Tag Archives: Explore

Back to Morocco (Maroc)

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Hello from Marrakesh (Marrakech for locals).  We tried to continue north from Spain but we had already booked airline flights to the States from Marrakesh.

Get this.  Our flight to the states is from Marrakesh to Paris then on to New York.  We called Delta to drop the Marrakesh to Paris portion and hop on in Paris for the next leg.  Nope!  It’s considered a “no show” and therefore cancels the rest of your trip.  Delta wanted $4,400.00 extra dollars to cancel the first leg and start in Paris.  Wow!!!

*click photos to enlarge or blue words to read a link

From the sky Marrakesh was a mirage in the middle of the desert.  We went from seeing all sand to lots of greenery and beautiful peach colored buildings.  It’s referred to as the “Red City” for the color of its facades but I have to disagree with that analogy.  Nonetheless it’s a wonderful contrast to all the white and beige buildings we have seen for the past three plus months.

So here we are. We started out a bit on the grumpy side when our hotel was under construction (not disclosed) making it noisy and not all services were open.  C’est la vie.  These moments are great lessons in the art of  zen.

We wandered the streets of the Medina where leather goods, rugs, sandals, slippers, stunning golden colored lighting, and trinkets lined the walls.  It was a sight to see.  A shopper’s haven. The colors and bling were eye catching.   I wish I had more patience than a fruit fly when it comes to shopping.  There were great opportunities.  All I could muster was the time it took to buy a tiny leather change purse.

When the alleyways become shoulder to shoulder and overcrowded the urge to get out of there took center stage.  We were deep enough in the maze that it took some time finding our way to a taxi. 

Oh, the Jardin Majorelle was stunning!  Yves San Laurent and his partner Pierre Berge purchased the garden in the 1980’s and turned it into a masterpiece.  The garden had been neglected and run down when they took ownership. It all started in 1923 when French artist Jacques Majorellle bought the property and spent the next 40 years (selling in the 1960’s) creating the garden.  It was so expensive to keep up that he opened up to the public in 1947 to make money to support its upkeep.  He used a brilliant cobalt blue (trademarked as Majorelle blue) as the decorative backdrop.  Its stunning and now has my wheels turning for my next project.

We left the 100 degree temperature and sand filled skies in Marrakesh for the fresh, clean air of the Atlas Mountains which separate the Mediterranean Basin from the Saharan Desert.  It was Bill’s 79th birthday celebration.

On the way out of Marrakesh new construction housing projects were popping up like bunny rabbits.  Billboard after billboard advertised new subdivisions and large sales offices dotted the streets.  Our driver told us that a lot of French people come here.  Perhaps that’s who’s buying these places.

It was enjoyable to see the new give way to old as we got further from town.  Building heights lowered and some homes/fencing were made with mud.   The effects of the Al Haouz earthquake were visible.  It registered 6.9 and happened in September 2023 devastating the area.  Nearly 3,000 people lost their lives.  They are still taking out the rubble and many buildings sit cracked and unusable.  Heartbreaking.

We visited the home of a Berbèr family where the 80 year old grandmother doctor, by familial training only, tended to an infant’s health.  She used her finger to rub the roof of his mouth and massaged his glands/throat under his chin.  The baby cried but we were assured that the baby was in good health and this was to make him stronger.  It was crazy to witness as I had just finished reading a book about a woman and her family from China, living in the 1400’s, who too were doctors having no official schooling but had the knowledge passed on for generations and were to called upon daily by the community to heal.

This doctor/healer’s son lives in this house with his two wives.  Their bedrooms are 12’ apart.  We were told that they are one big happy family.  Per our driver –  the husband works hard and is physically fit to support the family.  Three or four generations live in this home.  Traditionally the wife moves into her husband’s familial home.  He said country women are interested in finding a quality man while woman from the city only want money. These marriages end in divorce.

Moroccan tea is a thing.  It’s also known as Berber Whiskey (in name only – no alcohol) and the Water of Life.  We had no idea what went into making a pot.  It is given out in hotel lobbies, restaurants and for sale on the streets.  In this Berbèr home we had Moroccan tea.  The tea, also know as Gunpowder came from Japan (research shows it typically comes from China).  It was brewed with fresh absinthe (did’t know that was an herb), and another herb that I could not understand.  There was a long process of pouring the tea into two glasses and then taking the glasses and pouring the contents back in the pot  and then pouring it back out again.  It was repeated about 10 times.  Ultimately, our glasses were filled for the final time. Fresh spearmint was added to a glass the size of a juice glass and voilà – a perfect, mild and delicious tea. We drank it with homemade bread dipped in olive oil, butter and honey. The thousand flies were tough to ignore.

As we headed higher up the mountain the road became a unpaved, narrow and super curvy single lane.  To make way for other cars our tire was a mere foot away from the edge of a deep ravine.  I was so nervous that Bill had to tell me to get a grip.  I was making him nervous.

We stopped at a small restaurant (us the only diners) and enjoyed a roof top lunch of freshly raised food – vegis, fresh baked bread, eggs and chicken all locally sourced.  The only thing store bought was the bottled water.

Threatening storm clouds were slowly moving in and we made I back ahead of the impending rain.  

I had read that Marrakesh wasn’t about finding “sights” to see but more about taking it slow and embracing the colors and beauty.  We agree.

As I finish writing this we’re flying over France off the coast of Bordeaux on our way to Paris then on to the States where tomorrow we’ll be hugging on the family.

 

Hola España

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Not “feeling it” in Morocco caused us to leave earlier than planned to soak in the splendors of Spain right here in Africa.  Yeah – you’ve got that right.  In Africa.  A little over an hour’s drive from Tangier is the autonomous city of Ceuta.  Where tapas, cañas and copas de vino tinto were are at our beck and call.

*click on photos to enlarge

Ceuta from afar

The taxi cab dropped us off at the border of Morocco, pointed in a specific direction and said “That way”.  We walked to immigration and then through No Man’s Land to get to Spain.  Parts of it reminded us of shortened version of crossing into Palestine from Israel.  A narrow pathway between metal rails. Spain stamped us in without a word, quick and easy.

Ceuta’s 83,000 inhabitants live in seven square miles.  That’s approximately 5 miles long by 1.5 miles wide (not accurate – just an example).   It’s tiny but grand.  The rock of Gibraltar is a beacon on the horizon.

We stayed in its Parador (state owned hotels in historic locations) and soaked up all its historic sites.

It was just what the doctor ordered.  Clean.  Orderly. We spoke the language.  We gorged. Stayed up too late.  So perfect that we bought a ferry ticket and headed north to Algeciras, Spain where we hopped on a train to Ronda.

The scenery from the windows was whitewashed towns and acres and acres of land in production from olive trees to alfalfa to wheat.

It’s been about 15 plus years since we toured Ronda.  It was a great memory for its cliffside beauty.

We enjoyed our time here but it’s overrun by tourists.  Hoards of people.  Rightfully so because it’s breathtaking.  We stayed a couple nights at its Parador on the edge of the bridge/gorge and bullring but had to move across the street to finish off our stay since the Parador was booked.  Both hotels provided bookend views of the gorge.

We ate, walked, ate, drank, walked, ate, drank – never walking far enough to outweigh the food and drink.

After Ronda we headed, by train, to Malaga.  Train travel is so relaxing and the changing views help pass the time effortlessly.

Our hotel in Malaga was perfectly situated to explore the historic town center full of blooming jacaranda trees and the beach.  A little bit of everything.  We continued the eating and drinking fest but got to add some Italian and Vietnamese food in the mix.  We even hit our rooftop bar for incredible views, playing cards  and people watching. Adjusting to the late night meals seemed easier this time around. 

Muslim woman at the beach

On our last night we sat at a restaurant street side and I remarked how unusually quiet it was.  We weren’t paying close attention but before long the police showed up right next to us on motorcycles to lead a church procession. Several young men carried a heavy float depicting a female saint (I presume) and the trailing band played dramatic music.  We were quite lucky to be front and center.  As soon as they finished all the surrounding restaurants quickly set up their tables, our front row seats became the second row and hordes of people filled the street as was customary.

The Spaniards sure know how to enjoy the outdoors, long afternoon meals and living life in the slow lane.   

We soaked it all in as much as we could because we’re off to not so good food and a bit of disarray again.

Hello Morocco

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We had a late flight from Tunis, Tunisia scheduled to leave at 10:30 pm and arrive at 1:10 am.  The plane was delayed and by the time we got to the hotel it was 4:00 am. Having no plans it was no big deal.  After a few hours sleep we were ready to roll.

Casablanca – another name that rolls nicely off the tongue.  It’s the largest city and major port in Morocco.  Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman made this name famous to many baby boomers – so popular that a reproduction of Rick’s Cafe was built in 2004 and is now a tourist attraction.

We hit the Atlantic coast to see Hassan II Mosque and cruise the Medina.

After Casablanca north took an hour train ride north to Rabat, the capital and seventh largest city.  We hit up the UNESCO sites and walked the Medina which all are full of feral cats and started grossing out Bill.

Rabat:

How do they find anything?

To top things off my camera died.  Almost two years to the day my camera did the exact same thing in Uzbekistan.  Nothingness.  It goes black and the buttons won’t function.  UGH!  Now I’m carrying around a seven pound boat anchor.  So frustrating.

After Tunisia and Casablanca it was starting to feel like the movie Groundhog Day.  Get up, rinse and repeat. So we changed plans.

We hopped on a train to Tangier where we met a driver to take us to another country….

Nile Cruise

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After three nights in Luxor our private egyptologist, Safwat, picked us up at the hotel and took us straight out to see the first temple (I’ll list them later for all you amateur archaeologist).  Wowza!

The size and scale is hard to fathom.  As we learned the hieroglyphic stories from day to day – characters and symbols began to repeat themselves and we ourselves felt like pre-school archeologists!

*click on photos to enlarge and tap on the blue words to watch a video of the cruise boat and diesel soaked air

Crowds

Ra,  Osiris, Isis,  Horus, Anubis, Ramses II, Hatshepsut, Tutankhamun, Nefertiti, Nefertari…..  The stories are fascinating.  The Pharaohs’ and  the Queens’ egos  were humongous and their engineering mind blowing.  The colors are original.  Egypt does not repaint the antiquities.

Before the crowds
The crowds – we were told this is nothing compared to high season

After the visiting the first temple we checked into our “local” Nile cruise boat – 67 rooms. Over four nights we’d travel from Luxor to Aswan.

Our rooms were large and one up from basic.  Meals were buffets and sufficient.  The gin and tonics – perfect.

What we weren’t prepared for was the vast number of boats.  Oh my! They docked by tying up one boat next to another some six deep.  Unless you were the first boat tied up at shore you had to walk through the first, second, third boat to get to your own.

Our dirt boat on the outside but clean as can be inside

The air was gross and dirty. The result of 60 plus boats burning diesel fuel.  The way the boats honked at one another and playfully maneuvered around as if playing tag in the toxic cloud was rather amusing.

If you want to book a Nile cruise don’t waste your money paying for a balcony because when you dock next to another boat (which is the majority of time) your view is into the next room.  We went the cheap route and got a sliding glass door which was beautiful when we sailed.  However, we spent more time on deck than in the room.

The pace was wonderful.  Wake up, eat, tour, back to the boat for lunch, chill, back out to tour in the afternoon or evening, back to the boat, cocktails, dinner and bed.

We saw: Karnak, Luxor Temple, Valley of the Kings, Mortuary Temple of  Harshepsut, Colossi of Memnon, Temple of Edfu, Temple of Kom Ombu, The High Dam, Temple of Isis on Philae, and the Unfinished Obelisk.  After all this, in Aswan, we took a small boat ride to bird watch on the cataracts of the Nile and visited a Nubian village where Jonel and I got black henna tattoos.

In Aswan, to unwind and luxuriate we are staying three nights at the historic Old Cataract Hotel (built in 1899) on the bank of the Nile. It is decadent.  We are on our last night right now.

Agatha Christie wrote Death on the Nile while she stayed in her room 2 doors down.  Lady Diana and many dignitaries also spent time here.

We lounged by the pool and walked around town.  We even took part in our own death on the Nile by enjoying McDonald’s on the Nile.  We split a Big Mac!

Mark and Jonel stayed two nights and are now making their way back home first by flying back to Cairo and visiting the Pyramids in Giza.

And we’re off tomorrow for another quick plane ride…

Cairo to Luxor, Egypt

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Geez Louise have we been on a lot of flights.  A quick flight from Sharm el Sheikh got us to Cairo.  From the sky it was hard to see much green against the dusty, beige sand that is endless and coated on every building.

Look at these leaning buildings

Remarkably on the ground, there were trees within the grungy buildings.  It’s as if a gloom had set in the sky and the buildings reflect that sadness.

We only had half of a day to explore and we opted to see the brand new Grand Egyptian Museum.  It was their soft opening – July 2025 will be their grand opening. The artifacts dating back 5,000 plus years are unique.

Traffic was a bear from Cairo to Giza (home of the new museum) but at least for the most part they drove in their own lane – occasionally sharing their space with another vehicle but not overly crazy.

View from the museum

We tried to see the Saints Sergius and Bacchus Church built upon the site where Joseph, Mary and Jesus rested at the end of their journey into Egypt but it was closed by the time we got there.  The police guarding the area wouldn’t even let us take photos of the outside.  They would have had to let us walk down a short street but there was no convincing them otherwise.  Our driver also tried to no avail.  Had Mohamed from Sharm been here to convince the guards like at St. Catherine’s we would have not only seen the outside but the inside as well.

The following day we headed to Luxor.  There were two options to choose from – a really quick flight or a 10.5 hour train ride.  That was a no brainer.  We took the train.

Just trying to find the entry to the train station was like a game of Clue. Every door was incorrect.  “No, over there.” “No, over there.” That’s all I heard when I translated their Arabic in my head.

Finally, after several wrong doors a policeman guarding yet another door must have realized how stupid we were and summoned a man who grabbed some of our bags and led the way.  He got us to the correct side of the track where another train police kindly took over, had us wait in a particular place and then escorted us to our seats.

The train car interior was filthy.  The worse we’ve been on.  I had a couple Lysol wipes left over and a swipe on the arm rest rendered the wipe solid brown.  Every square inch was gross.  God only knows the depth of the cooties on the cloth seats.  Ewww.

Life beyond the window, in some respect, was filthier than the train.  Plastic garbage bags lay waste everywhere.  As we left Cairo city and got into the burbs people were tending crops between the rail and what appeared to be a tributary of the Nile River.  The only colors – laundry, green crops and riverbanks lathered and stacked with fading but colorful rotting trash.

The whole – 13 hour train ride – yes thirteen hours – not 10.5 (that was to encourage passengers) – the truth was 13 – was lined with either towns or farming.  Fields with deep green alfalfa and grain that were being harvested.

It appeared that most farmers have a donkey.  It was great fun watching children and adults bouncing on the backs of donkeys as they went from here to there.  Some have a camels and cows and an occasional horse.  Tiny shade structures are built in the corners of fields resembling mangers to keep the livestock out of the sun.  Today was 109 degrees.  As we got further away from Cairo the fields got larger and the garbage subsided a bit.  The buildings shrunk in size but the layer of dirt remained.

The train must have had no shocks.  As we gained speed the train car jolted from side to side.  So bouncy at times that I prayed we’d not bounce off the tracks.

It was 9:00 pm by the time we got to Luxor, the gateway to the next portion of our journey.  The second we stepped out of the train station the taxi cab drivers were on us like flies on trash. They were coming at us from every angle. We picked a kid who drove his grandfather’s Peugeot.

We spent three nights in Luxor and toured the “off the beaten path” places before we boarded our official, and local, cruise from Luxor to Aswan.  The people have been overly kind and friendly.  The hawkers can be a bit overbearing but back off after you say no with a palm in the stop position.

It is hard to wrap my head around the artifacts here.  The tombs are elaborate and some buried so deep. Sand and flooding upon sand and flooding has hidden dynasties.  The lack of oxygen has kept the original colors of the hieroglyphics so perfect it was like they were painted last week.

Mind boggling!

Colorful Kolkata (Calcutta), India

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A quick flight from Dhaka, Bangladesh and we were in Kolkata (Calcutta), India.  Bangladesh is known as Bengal and Kolkata is known as West Bengal.

Kolkata is the 7th most populated city in India and home to the Mother House aka the Missionaries of Charity’s Motherhouse where Mother Theresa selflessly tended the sick and destitute – her final resting place.  It’s still active carrying on Mother Theresa’s legacy in caring for others.

It’s a stop along the way to our intended destination so we only stayed two nights.

The hotel window overlooked gorgeous fields of crops all in various stages of grown (beyond which the dump burned day and night).  It was such a contrast to the concrete, smoggy city it felt as if we were looking at a painted backdrop.  The taxi driver toured the fields so we could admire the greenery at street level.  He referred to corn stalks as popcorn trees.

Kolkata is the only city in India that has the old classic Ambassador Motors yellow taxi cabs.  They feel solid as tanks.  The cabbies take off in second or third gear rattling our innards while the non- stop horn blowing rattled our brains.

We revisited the places we went 11 years ago to see if we had any brain cells left by recreating the paths we walked to see what had changed. Surprisingly, nothing had changed but the inclusion of cell phones.  Tap on this and that to see video of the Mullick Ghat flower market.

What’s up with this pink bird?
Is this real or dyed?
Check out his barber supplies

From Bill:  l had a message from his doctor to get an X-ray.  Paige decided that meant now. She called the desk.  The desk called the hotel doctor who drove an hour to see me.  The doctor read the records and wrote a prescription for an X-ray. The doctor drove us downtown to the clinic.  An X-ray was had and read in 20 minutes.  The cost for the X-ray was $7.00 – the cost for the house call and ride was $50.00.

The X-ray was clear and we exchanged a one hundred dollar bill for rupees because the doctor is planning a trip to Hong Kong and wanted a solid currency.

Onward…

Dhaka, Bangladesh

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Bill has wanted to go here for years.  It’s not an easy place to get to.   Only a few cities offer flights and lucky us, one was Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.

I was excited to ditch the uber conservative clothing and handle the heat like an American with my arms exposed.  While standing in line to board our flight I learned that Dhaka is Muslim like Saudi Arabia.  Are you kidding me?  I googled my heart out as I walked to the jetway to see what women tourist wear in Bangladesh. Phew.  Shoulders and knees should be covered.  I’m not looking up the tattoo part – wish me luck!

Dhaka is Bangledesh’s capital city and one of the most densely populated cities in the world.  I’ll bet you have clothing in your closet made here.  They are the second largest exporter of garments in the world.

I was prepared for Bangladesh to be India on steroids as far as cleanliness and crowding.  The cleanliness was equal and the holiday squashed the crowded theory.

The Bengalese were still celebrating Eid so many shops and businesses were closed.  I’m going to count that as lucky for us.  We don’t shop and it made what would have been utter gridlock more manageable.

The sky is blanketed in a thick haze like froth on a latte.

*Click on photos to enlarge. Click on blue words for a video or article.

People could not have been nicer.  Bill and I were movie stars when we got into “Old Dhaka”.   It was crazy how many people stopped us to take photos with them.  People were sneaking videos with their cell phones.  Some were clever enough to pretend to take a selfie and capture us the moment we stepped behind them.  Not many light skin foreigners touch down in Bangladesh, especially in Old Dhaka, and if they do they most likely stay in the commercial corridor.  My white hair and Bill, a giant by their standards, made quite a spectacle.

It was beyond hot and humid.  We dripped in sweat.  The first day spent exploring offered little shade and quickly wiped us out from walking in the hot sun.    

We explored the University campus and their art center.  The upcoming celebration of their independence had craftsmen busy.  The colorful art was made to sell at the event to help pay for the large animal displays made out of bamboo.

University bus

On day one we hit the flower market late and much of the flowers had been sold.  Weddings are a big event and even bridal cars are adorned with flowers.  Day two we went back a bit earlier in the day and saw the aftermath of a fire that took place in the wee hours of the morning.   The cause yet to be determined.

Rickshaws (electric and pedal), tuk-tuks, and people  fill the space between motorcycles, cars, trucks and busses like batter in a waffle iron.  The busses are not only scratched from top to bottom but the grooves run deep.  It is utter chaos.  Near-misses have to be in the gazillions every day.  Horn honking is a sport and rickshaw drivers raise a hand to the towering bus drivers demanding they make way.

It was thrilling.  The roads are filled with pot holes and the metal, suspension-less rickshaws jarred our spines like a chiropractor with a jackhammer.  The vehicle next to us so close that I wanted to high five the driver.

Everything feels neglected.  Bangladesh is currently run by an interim government.  A student run uprising in August 2024 brought down the authoritarian and tyrannical (per new articles) Prime Minister.  Our guide said half the country wants to become East Pakistan under Muslim rule and the other half wants to become part of India.  Newspaper articles say they want democracy like the USA. So who knows – for now their future is uncertain.

Down at the river, it was super interesting to watch a team of workers unload a huge shipment of watermelon by hand,  carrying heavy baskets on their heads across narrow planks and up a hill.  True beasts of burden.  The boat arrived on the highly polluted Buriganga River or the Old Ganges. The water is black as night, caused by industrial and human waste.  All the fish have died and it is considered to be biologically dead. 

Of course we learned the extent of the river’s death after we boarded a flimsy, flat bottom, seatless, wooden boat to cross the river to see their ship breaking yard so I could take photos.  I lost all interest in taking photos while the nothingness of our boat teetered on the wakes of passing motorboats.  All I envisioned was us getting splashed or worse, falling in.  I captured a couple quick photos – my lens not long enough and more importantly I wanted to be on land on the correct side of the river.  Get me outta here!!!

The shipyard is small compared to one in Chittagong , Bangladesh which employs 200,000 people and handles a fifth of the world’s ship breaking.  This yard employs approximately 15,000 workers earning about $5 a day to work this grueling job in the hot sun under hazardous conditions.

The trip was fascinating. And heartbreaking.  Colorful, dirty and chaotic.  It is so hard to believe that we can live on the same planet in such vastly different situations.

Paying for the storage of his shoes

Rwanda part two – Gorilla time

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***Warning – this posting contains a ridiculous amount of gorilla photos (click to enlarge) and videos (click the blue words).

We slept like babies after crawling into our toasty bed – water bottles snuck in by the staff while we ate dinner were a welcome treat.

Up at 5:30 am and breakfast by a warm fireplace. We’re ready!

I forgot to tell you that  before we checked into the hotel we went to the Ellen DeGeneres Campus of the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund to learn about Dian and the gorillas.

Did you know that we share over 98% of our DNA with gorillas?  Every evening the gorillas make a new a new nest – they never have to change the sheets!  Pregnancy lasts for 8.5 months. They’re vegetarians and eat up to 55 pounds of food per day.  They laugh when they play and boy oh boy do they play!

The first phase in seeing the gorillas was an orientation at the park headquarters.  Trackers keep an eye on the gorilla’s location and report back to the rangers.  They then form groups of eight depending on your age, health and physical fitness and assign you a group. The trek can last from two to seven hours depending on what group you’re placed in. There are three levels.  We’re able to “request” one of the three.  I will reword their levels.  Level one – old and not in great shape.  Two – great shape.  Level three – crazy and uber fit animal!

Guess what group we hiked with?

Our group contained three Brits, two Canadians and an American.  We headed out with our drivers to the next meeting point.

The morning was gorgeous however, we were told to not rely on that.  We had our rain gear as well as gloves to keep the stinging nettles off our hands.

Our group met up at the Volcano’s National Park 20 minutes away. At this point you can hire a porter who will walk with you, carry your gear and assist you getting up and down the mountain.  It is recommended that you hire one to help the local economy.  Their pay $10.00 or whatever amount you want to pay above that. 

And away we went….

Slow and steady went the old person’s group.  Did I mention how beautiful Rwanda is?  We walked through lush farmland and climbed the steep mountain about two hours before we met up with the Kwisanga  family of gorillas.

Since our DNA is so close we had to put a facemask on before we got close to where they were.  The rangers don’t want us making them sick.

I was a little nervous about the gorillas after seeing videos where they would run by a person and knock them over.  Any fear that I harbored melted away immediately .  Kinda like I don’t hear the Jaw’s theme music when I scuba dive even though I’m afraid of a shark attack.

The gorillas could have cared less that we were there.  Some were lounging and others played like little kids.  There was one silverback (male) and the rest were females.  One mama held her one week old baby and the four month old gorilla played like a five year old rolling around with the teenagers. They really do smile and I would say laugh as well. It’s so endearing.

The hordes of flies circle them like rotting fruit abandoned in the sun.  The flies left us alone.  We were allowed one hour with the gorillas.  At one point the silverback woke up from his nap and wondered off.  We followed him for a bit and got to watch him sit and eat before we returned back to the family at large.

It was incredible!!!

The sky began to weep minutes before we had to leave.  The timing was perfect.  It made a tough, super slippery and thrilling decent back down the mountain.  Our shoes were completely full of mud.  The rain ended just before we finished.

We returned to Kigali for one more night before heading out again.

Did I mention how beautiful Rwanda is?

Had to show you Bill’s shoes made brand new by housekeeping at our hotel.

Crazy how airport security differs.  Upon arrival at the Kigali Airport – Bill and I had to vacate the car while it was completely searched and go into a building and be body scanned before entering the airport property.

Hello Rwanda

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Land of one thousand hills.

Boarding time for our RwandAir flight started an hour before the flight.  While we were walking toward the gate from we heard our names over the loud speaker.  A bit strange as it was an hour before the flight. Lo and behold they boarded all of us early and efficiently and the plane departed 40 minutes  before schedule.

We arrived in the dark and what stood out were the lights from hordes of motorcycles resembling dirt bikes buzzing around and waiting in droves for the traffic signal.

*Click photos to enlarge. Click on blue words to see a video.

Rwanda is the third most densely populated country in the world.  A bit smaller than Maryland with approximately 13,700,000 inhabitants.

The country suffered mass genocide in 1994.  It lasted approximately 100 days and a million people were massacred.

Per Britannica (plus my snarky comment):  “The genocide was conceived by extremist elements of Rwanda’s majority Hutu population who planned to kill the minority Tutsi and anyone who opposed those genocidal intentions. It is estimated that some 200,000 Hutu, spurred on by propaganda from various media outlets (imagine that!!!) participated in the genocide. More than 800,000 civilians—primarily Tutsi, but also moderate Hutu—were killed during the campaign. As many as 2,000,000 Rwandans fled the country during or immediately after the genocide.”

Our driver, Kevin, said his family fled to Uganda during this time.  His family repatriated when he was 16.  He’s now 27 years old.   Their community in Uganda consisted of mostly Rwandans.

Rwanda is stunning!  Windy-turny roads, spotless clean, perfect sidewalks (even in mountain areas), no potholes,.  Trees line the streets in the capital.  Beyond is farmland and then jungle.

Poor Kevin must have heard me say “this is so beautiful” a thousand times.  One for each hill.

We spent time in Kigali, the capital.  It was safe to roam around anytime of the day.  Beautiful buildings interspersed with typical unattractive concrete structures.  Because the country is so well cared for those structures do not scream neglect like other third world countries.

We had a driver take us to the huge Kimironko market.  Jammed packed with local fresh food, home goods, hardware and miles of colorful fabric with seamstresses begging to sew you something.  If only we had room in our luggage!

Holding on

While walking in Nyamirambo, the Muslim neighborhood, we decided to sit at the most popular restaurant for a bite to eat.  Restaurant row was closed to traffic and offered restaurant after restaurant to choose from.  All but one was empty – hawkers tried to lure us in. Of course we choose the restaurant with clientele.  Mucoco must have had 30 employees all wearing t-shirts with their roles embossed on their backs – waiter, cleaner, supervisor, and protocol.  Security people acted like concierges.  A hard working lady adorned in an abaya and hijab also served meals.  Sweat ran down the brow of workers with the rate of hustle serving everyone.  I had the thickest, creamiest, heart attack in a bowl – their version of chicken soup.  It was delicious with local hot garlic chili sauce on it.

** I wrote this a couple days ago and it just now dawned on me that the reason all the restaurants were empty was because it’s Ramadan.  Apparently, our restaurant was full of non-Muslims.

We traveled to Rwanda to see the gorillas.  The drive was three hours long and pure eye candy.  I wish we could have driven slower for all the photo opportunities.  Instead I upped the shutter speed and snapped away.

Not only does Rwanda’s have 1,000 hills it includes mountains and volcanoes.  In this area the three extinct volcanoes range from 12,000 to 15,000 feet. Interestingly when this part of Africa was carved up one volcano went to Uganda, one to the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the other to Rwanda.

The single lane (one in each direction) road was used by huge 18 wheelers, cars, trucks, motorcyclists, bicyclists (ridden and used to carry heavy goods), walkers (carrying their wares on their shoulders or head), little children, goats, sheep and cows.  The roads are paved and in perfect shape.   Many areas had sidewalks, retaining walls, and street lights.

Holding on

Did I mention how beautiful Rwanda is?

There’s not much wasted space in the country. Tiered hills with rich, dark, volcanic soil are either full of crops or ready for the next planting – weedy – where some men but mostly woman bent over 90 degrees hoeing. Corn season is over and hangs drying in large open air buildings.  Banana plants are prolific and potato plants are growing at various stages.

Homes range from concrete to mud huts and there are no signs of trash anywhere.

We spent the night before our trek in the mountains.  I chose a budget lodge .  The cost of the park permit to see the gorillas was $1500.00 each so we conserved.  It was great.  It reminded us so much of places we have stayed in China.

We were greeted with a glass of fresh squeezed juice and two plates of snacks and fruit.  We were handed a typed sheet of paper and a pen to choose what we wanted for dinner.  There were two choices plus lots of side dishes.

The room  was not attached to the lobby/restaurant.  It was huge (the whole place bigger than our tiny house) and sparse with stone floors and concrete walls surrounded by jungle – which equated to no sunlight which equaled a frigid room.  Lucky, there was a plug-in heater and closing the door to the cavernous bathroom helped the heater do its thing.  The innkeeper said it would take a minute or so for the water to warm in the shower.  That didn’t matter to us. There was no way we were getting naked in that cold room plus the towels were still damp from being laundered.  Bill and I hopped under the covers until dinner time.

We learned we were the only guests.  A coal burning pottery stove was placed beside our table and a candle provided ambience.   The dinner portion was fit for a king and the food was delicious.  We were embarrassed to hand back our plates with only a portion of the food eaten.

By the time we returned to our room the heater had made the space toasty and the staff had put hot water bottles between our sheets.

Up at 5:30 for our 6:00 pickup to head to the gorillas.

To be continued….

A quick detour to Zambia

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Zambia – The size of Texas with 20+ million people.  Their official language is English with 72 tribal languages.

We knew we could walk to Zambia from Zimbabwe and reconnoitered the situation on foot the day before by walking across the old single lane bridge built in 1909 that is bordered by each country.

The bridge sits high above the Zambezi river that flows from the falls.  It’s not only one lane but only one vehicle is allowed cross at a time – not sure what happens when a train crosses. It’s was a bit creepy being up so high and thinking about the weight of a big rig crossing at the same time – there’s no way I’d cross with a train!

First we walked the falls on the Zimbabwean side and drenched by the spray we headed to Zambia for a look around.

Immigration was super easy and free of charge.  We hired a taxi to take us to Livingstone.

David Livingstone was a Scottish physician, Protestant clergyman, and explorer. He was driven to discover the headwaters of the Nile River, which he failed to do.  However, over decades in Africa he was an inveterate explorer, and discovered Victoria Falls on the Zambezi River.

Zambia was formally known as Rhodesia. Cecil Rhodes was a British explorer businessman and colonist who exploited the country. He created immense wealth by discovering diamonds and gold in South Africa and Rhodesia and Northern Rhodesia, which were colonies named after him.  He died in his 50s, very wealthy somewhat controversial because of his viewpoints on colonization, but created the Rhodes scholarship.

It was a small town with not much to offer.  Bill said it looked like a typical English village of one hundred years ago. We had lunch (the only two people in the restaurant – a sandwich and frozen pizza which took over an hour to prepare), snapped a few photos and headed back to our place for sundowners.

Hello Zimbabwe

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Family time back east went by way too fast.  The days were full and sleep was welcome “early” every evening.

Our flight from Atlanta to Harare, Zimbabwe (through Johannesburg) on Delta was uneventful.  It was super cool and a bit shocking to see flight attendants quite older than me.  One in particular was so sweet and had fun flirting with Bill telling him how handsome he was.   Most were cheerful and well versed in their jobs – absolute veterans.  Fortunately, only one must have been an old United attendant from the past.  I’m sure some of you know what I’m talking about.

We left Atlanta at 9:50 pm and arrived in Harare at 9:50 pm.  We virtually lost a day.

Zimbabwe (don’t you love the way that flows off your tongue – so exotic) is home to almost 17 million people living in an area the size of Montana.

There are 16 official languages and everyone speaks English.  They use the US dollar not trusting their local currency.  Wikipedia says their official unemployment rate as of 2022 was 80%.  One of our drivers said it’s more like 96%, stating that government expropriation of white farmer’s land was the cause.  Government expropriation makes people and companies fearful of making new investments. He was saddened that South Africa might be heading down the same road.

Most of the cars are Toyotas – ordered online and shipped directly from Japan.  A 30 day turnaround.  Not built to USA standards but more affordable than buying locally. New vehicles start at $9,000.

Many people asked us about Trump and brought up losing aid from America.  They were all glad and hoped it would make a difference for their country.  Hoping that the government would learn to make its own way.  I was surprised by the response.

Phew – didn’t mean to detour like that.

We had no plans for Harare other than a place to stay. We’d wing it.  I picked a gorgeous lodge 11 kilometers (7 +/- miles) and a half hour drive from the airport.

Wow! Even in the dark our lodge was an extraordinary oasis.  Beautifully decorated in a lush tropical jungle hidden behind tall concrete walls topped with electrified wires.  Robbers? Wild animals?

Mosquito nets draped the bed and the free wine called out my name.  I read the hotel guide book and decided a trip to an animal sanctuary the following day would be fun. Sleep came around midnight.

Apparently, visiting an animal sanctuary was the “thing to do” – there was no availability. The pros and cons of unplanned travel.  Obviously, leisure time at the lodge was in order and it was perfect.

The daylight version of the drive to the airport revealed tall walls topped by wires protected at almost all properties.   Concrete homes and businesses lined the streets and corn and beautiful, tall orange flowers grew in open fields.  People walked to and fro on the soft grassy shoulders and makeshift shops selling food and home goods lined the roads

A quick flight from Harare took us to Victoria Falls.  We stayed at the Victoria Falls Safari Lodge on the Zimbabwean side.

The main gathering area at the hotel was open air and overlooked an endless sea of green trees – luckily it’s the end of the rainy season and fall is just around the corner.  A nearby watering hole attracted a variety of animals from elephants to warthogs.

The restaurant rid their food waste by feeding frantic vultures at 13:00 every day.  (Feeding video link)  We marveled how Pavlov’s theory worked in the wild.  So accustomed to the feeding time, vultures started flying in to nearby tree an hour early.  It was like LAX.  Some would start to land and have to circle to find space on a branch.  

We were assured that the wire fence surrounding the property would keep the wild animals away.  Somehow the warthogs found away around it and were grazing by the front lobby.

Being the end of the rainy season, the falls were mighty and thunderous, nearly two miles wide.  Absolute power beyond anything we’ve ever witnessed. The spray literally rains on portions of the pathway – the sound almost deafening.

At the end of the falls is a one lane bridge to Zambia built in 1909.  Big 18 wheelers lined the roadside filled with coal that they’ll sell in Zambia.  In Zambia they get copper from the mines and sell in Zimbabwe.

People also walk back and forth from each county to sell goods.  Immigration is quick and easy.  I walked with a gal from Zambia heading to the Zimbabwean side to sell okra, soap and other trinkets at three times her cost.  She made an arrangement to set up in a restaurant.  Her mother passed away at 16 and she learned quickly how to fend for herself and siblings. Now she feeds her family.

We flew back to Harare and stayed in the city for a night.  Like most third world cities there was a mixture of beautiful old buildings and hideous concrete structures.  Traffic was crazy. The sidewalks uneven and broken, mini shops like a kid’s lemonade stand lined the sidewalks, bars protected businesses, people dressed for business walked with purpose but many men just seemed to be idly “hanging out” (the cost of unemployment). The Harare Garden Park offered a reprieve from the sun.

Zimbabweans were as sweet and kind as anyone could imagine.  They spoke in whispers.  Strangers even paused to say hello.

Zimbabwe – its sound so sweet….

And so it begins

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We’ve been back in the States for three months.  It’s been quite emotional for me – a lot has been going on.  

However, it was time for me to pull up my boot straps and get living this life we’ve been given.

First stop – kids and grand babies.

On a brilliantly clear day I made my way to Charlotte. Sleepy from a 2:50 am alarm and a days worth of travel that by 8:00 pm EST I crawled into bed and woke up refreshed and acclimated.

It’s been a whirlwind.  The boys now live about two hours away from each other – so much better than being 2/3 of the USA.  I’m super grateful – traveling between them is easy.

Bill kept down the fort at home for a bit and we’ll be together tomorrow. ❤️ Woot woot!

Monday we’re off to the second largest continent to pick up where we left off in December.  

Stay  tuned – it should be an adventure!

 

With Sadness – Walvis Bay, Namibia and Beyond

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We didn’t fall off the edge of the earth.  I stopped the blog as it seems so inconsequential compared to the devastating news that my stepdad passed away.

We (and the doctors) thought beyond hope that he would improve once he got “home”.   

Michael’s decline happened quickly and thank goodness we were in port when we got the news. With two hours notice we booked flights, packed and jumped ship. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived God had called Michael to His home.

We flew out of Walvis Bay, Namibia after a day of touring.

Situated just north of the Tropic of Capricorn.  It’s the second largest city in Namibia and was once part of South Africa – gaining their independence in 1990.

It is the driest country in Sub-Saharan Africa and considered to have the oldest desert (called the Namib Desert) in the world.  It was tribal until Germany colonized it in 1884.

Their primary language is English however everyone seemed to be speaking one of their 15 other languages.  89% of the population are Christian.

The town is clumped around the port and beyond that is endless sand and mirages.  It was remarkably tidy – zero graffiti.

*click on photos to enlarge

We went on a 4 wheel drive excursion to see “the desert”.   I had seen photos of The Namib Desert where humongous sand dunes kissed the shore of the ocean.  This is what I envisioned seeing.  Unfortunately, it was too far away.  With ship board excursion credits we opted for a desert 4 wheel drive experience.  The day was beautiful and it was just us and another couple – perfect size.  It turned out to be the “Chamber of Commerce” tour.  A drive to the Moon Landscape (similar to the Badlands in South Dakota) on graded dirt roads where all the 4×4’s stopped with a break to see the Welwitschia plant – referred to as a “living fossil”.  It is found growing in the nothingness of the Namib Desert and Southern Angola. Some plants are said to be between 1000 and 1500 years old.

Walvis Bay is home to gazillions of flamingos – white and pink.

It was fun being off the boat.

Namibia – the vast nothingness of sand was overwhelming as we glanced out the plane’s window on our way to Cape Town for our long journey to the States.  The wind etched windrow upon windrow patterns in the sand like waves in the sea.  Fog laid low over Atlantic Ocean greeting the desert shore.

We stayed over in Cape Town before the next leg of the flight back to Southern California – 37 hours from door to door.

Now we’re with mom.

Next year we’ll finish our trip…

May the spirit of Christmas shine in your heart and light your path.

São Tomé, Sao Tome

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If you get a trivia question asking what country’s capital is the same name as the country here’s your clue…

*click on photos to enlarge

We went to the capital city São Tomé located on the Island of São Tomé. This island country is located in the Gulf of Guinea and off the Northwest coast of Gabon.  Two islands make up the Democratic Republic of São Tomé and Principe.  Colonized by the Portuguese and once a trade center for the Atlantic slave trade.  Volcanic soil and its location by the equator made it a perfect place to grow sugar and cocoa. In the early 1900’s it was the world’s largest cocoa exporter and the islands were referred to as “The Chocolate Islands”.  Today 85% of its GDP is foreign aid and 90% of its food is imported.  This country of 200,000 gained its independence in 1975 and is mostly Christian.  The residents today are mostly decedents of the slave population.

It definitely reeks “island life”.  Humid!  Dilapidated but gorgeous, colorful Portuguese colonial buildings were closer to the shoreline and the heart of the city center.  Tin structures, rickety wooded homes and concrete structures dot the hillside.  Orange stain leaches up the sides of homes like Easter eggs dipped in liquid henna.  Everything in the yard is dusted in the matching color.

Bill referred to a couple of streets as “Rainbow Row” reminding him of the colorful homes that line East Bay Street in Charleston, South Carolina.

We spent lots of time exploring on foot. It was so hot and humid that by the time we returned to the ship our tops were completely soaked in sweat.

I was taking a photo of a motorcycle and this man put his head in front of my camera lens.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sekondi-Takoradi, Ghana

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Sekondi-Takoradi, Ghana. The capital of the Western Region.  Referred to as twin cities. 

Tall commercial buildings pierce the horizon while dilapidated colonial buildings dot the countryside.  

Gridlock traffic wreaked havoc to any sort of flow.  It took about 45 minutes to move out of the hustle and bustle as we maneuvered our way to a coastal fishing village.  The blurry photos are from the bus window – click photos to enlarge.  

The chiefs and village elders spoke to a crowd of cruisers while Bill and I chose to roam and visit with the locals.

Living conditions were rudimentary at best.  I needed to use the bathroom and was invited to a back corner walled area that was about 3’ x 3’ with a wet mosaic tile floor.  The floor barely slanted towards the edge of the wooden structure.  That’s it.  No running water, no drain, no trash – only two small buckets.  Imagine my confusion. Bucket? Floor? Bucket? Floor?

A fellow female cruiser approached me later and asked floor or bucket? I asked her without answering and she said she was told floor….  Ain’t life grand?

A few spoke English so we were able to converse.  We talked politics a bit.  Their election is coming up in a couple days and their “biggest” issue is compulsory schooling for children.  Some want it and others think it’s a waste.  We talked with two who had differing opinions.

The village children were delightful.  I taught them to fist bump with an explosion.  The first child warily and bravely humored me and then one child after another lined up to give it a whirl.  After a few minutes they were so animated that they acted like they were falling backwards with each explosion. Their smiles and laughter were contagious. 

A couple moms and big sisters asked to have their photos taken and I received a marriage proposal from a giddy young man.  HA!

In this particular village the fish are salted and smoked. 

The rural commercial fishing area was lined with long wooden boats, some with piles of knotted up used nets stacked high.  Left over piles lay on the sand waiting to entangle and cling to the shoes of daydreamers. 

People were hard at work weaving and stacking nets, cleaning fish, selling/buying goods and washing clothing.  A fishing expedition can last from one to seven days.  From here it’s not hard to imagine that the most common occupation in Ghana is fishing. 

My light skin and white hair had some stop me to say how beautiful I was.  Which, at my age and full of wrinkles felt like at any moment a camera crew would jump out to say “You’re on Candid Camera”. 

During such an event one woman, with her wares on top of her head, took both her hands and stroked my hair over and over – smiling from ear to ear.  It was so awkward but I reminded myself about curiosity and humanity.  We who can step out of our comfort zones get to actually embrace one another.

It dawned on me that only one boat had a shade canopy with a single man weaving under it. His partner sat four feet away in the sun, with a towel on his head, dripping sweat. In my best sign language I complemented the smart guy and tried to ask the other man why he was in the sun.  Encouraged by the complement, the shade man motioned for me to walk around the boat to his side to watch him weave. 

A school grounds visit was spectacular.  I can’t even express the sheer joy that I experienced.  There were hundreds of kids from all ages.

A group of mostly elementary kids gathered and I whipped out my phone with my FatBooth app open and ready.  I took a photo of a child and then asked them to wait one moment while my phone munched away and came back with a photo of her with a “fat face”.  They roared – laughing and falling all over one another – each egging the next on to see what they’d look like.

One of the girls asked me to play music so I put on Katy Perry’s “Firework” song and the dance party began.

Before we sadly had to depart I asked them to all jump for a photograph.  Craziness ensued. What a blast.  I could have stayed there all day.

My heart was full.  It was a good day!

Abidjan, Ivory Coast (Côte d’Ivoire)

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When we neared port the sky was heavy with fog and the burn off from the gas towers beaconed us like sirens on a rocky shore.

The Ivory Coast gained its independence from France in 1960.  French is still its primary language however 60+ languages are spoken.  This suggests it is still quite tribal. There are two capitals – Abidjan is the economic capital (where we docked) and Yamoussoukro is the political capital.

Today was our first shore excursion with the cruise line.

It was to be a panoramic drive to the town of Grand Bassam.  Abidjan is a large city with LA like high rises on the horizon.  The traffic was utter gridlock.  Two motorcycle police escorts guided two busses like Frogger through the congestion.  At times, they closed lanes on our side and when possible had us driving in the lane of oncoming traffic. The front row seat offered the perfect amount of excitement.

Photo ops had to found between the tour notices taped to the window, a broken windshield and rear view mirrors.  Our stops were a tiny museum and two craft fairs where hungry shopkeepers begged us to take a free look.  Needless to say we lasted about 20’ at the first market and didn’t enter the second.  Other than getting to watch “life” from the bus, the tour was a bust but we understand that developing countries like this are doing the best they can to entertain us weary travelers.

I love watching the constant movement of people.  Driving, walking, selling…. The world is a buzz.  Woman are skilled at carrying their “stores” on their heads – from food to sandals. Without business license rules/laws, others just take their umbrella, stick it in the ground and set up shop!  No rules.

American flag
Cassava

Interesting – babies are named by the day of their week on which they were born.  They are also given family names but their birth certificates list their weekday names.  Boys names differ from girls.

Away from the city the French colonial influence is quite evident.  The architecture of that era, the ubiquitous pale yellow paint combined with the latitude create a feeling of French Indochina.

65% of the population is Christian, 25% Muslim and the balance Traditional aka. Voodoo.  Be sure not to tick someone off or they just might make a pin doll with your image.

Melting metal
Endless satellite dishes

 

 

Banjul, The Gambia

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For all you prayer warriors out there please add my stepfather, Michael, to your prayers.  He can use a healing hand.

The city Banjul is located on St Mary’s Island (Banjul Island), where the Gambia River enters the Atlantic Ocean.

The Gambia (formerly know as Gambia) is Africa’s smallest country in the continent and is nestled in by Senegal.  The river runs the entire length of the country. English is their primary language. 
For those who watched Roots it’s Kunta Kinte‘s ancestoral home. Two-thirds of the population is under the age of 30.

Their economy is mostly dependent on peanut (groundnut) production and export.

Click on photos to enlarge.

We took a bus ride into town.   Trash was everywhere and the air thick with dust from dirt roads.  It is a Muslim country and being respectful I was completely covered, from wrists to shins, in the 94 degree temperature.

The people we encountered were super sweet and friendly.  A couple woman even asked me to take their photos.

Mindelo, São Vicente Island, Cabo Verde

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We docked in Porto Grande Bay.  310 miles off the coast of Senegal.  São Vicente is one of the smallest of ten islands (nine inhabited) referred to as Cabo Verde.  Even though the name means “green cape” the island is barren, receiving only 5” of rain per year.

Mindelo is the largest city in the archipelago and 90% of São Vicente’s 81,000 residents live in the city, half are under the age of 25.

Cabo (Cape) Verde was colonized by the Portuguese during the 15th century and gained its independence from Portugal in 1975.

The islands popped out of the ocean via volcanic rock some 40-50 million years ago.

Click to enlarge photos.

This portrait was chipped out of the concrete.

It’s getting warmer as we head further south.  On this bright day fishermen a long the shore line were busy cleaning and carving fish.  Each working with a different variety. This man below was scaling his fish using a tin can with holes poked through the bottom.  Genius!

The large open air seafood market was not real busy by the time we got there.  However, sidewalk vendors selling fish and small amounts of vegis seemed to gather a crowd.

From the turquoise water with bright white sandy shores to the candy colored buildings from the flats to the tops of the hills, this island was a pleasant stop on our way to Africa.

 

Arrecife, Lanzarote, Spain

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IFE, Lanzarote, spainArrecife – Spanish for reef – referencing the volcanic rock formations in the coastal water.  Part of the Canary Islands.  This one called Lanzarote.

Our last stop in Spain.  We’re west of Southern Morocco  on an island in the Atlantic Ocean and no where near mainland Spain.

The cruise write up about Arrecife – “The sights are scare yet interesting…. Its most notable quality is that it’s a working town that earns its living from something other than tourism”.  Sounds perfect!

The walk to town took us through a large marina full of sail boats and over lava rock bridges .  The tide low and little pongas tipped to their side waiting for the water to lift them up.

The volcanic rock is visible all around the shoreline – from the dark formations in the water to the bridges, steps and landscaping.

Most buildings suffer from benign neglect but the ones which received a coat of paint sure stood out.  The white walls and colorful doors pop. It’s a little part Greece, Mexico, the Caribbean and Spain!  Laid back and chill.

 

 

 

 

 

Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Spain

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After Cádiz we had a very windy day at sea.  So much so the upper outside decks were closed.

Next stop – Las Palmas – capital of Gran Canaria Island.  It rests about 93 miles west of the Moroccan coast.   According to a study by the director of climatology at Syracuse University, Las Palmas enjoys “the best climate in the world”.  High five to that.  It was the first day since we left home that it was warm and the sun was shining brightly!

We cabbed it to the historic town of Vegueta, a UNESCO World Heritage site, to drool over the beautiful architecture. Colorful buildings with wrought iron balconies lined the narrow cobblestone streets – a little Merida, Mexico déjà vu.

Surfers and sunbathers also enjoyed the beautiful day.

* Update on Notre Dame from and article that Bill read this morning.  The church is 860 years old. 2,000 artisans have worked on the restoration at the cost of $760,000,000.00.  The work is expected to be completed in 2026.