Tag Archives: Travel

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….

Tunisia

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I’ve had an immense fear of flying (crashing) which has improved a lot in the past few years but it’s always there.

We’ve been flying Egyptian Air while in Egypt because they are the only game in town.  Their safety record isn’t that good (4 out of 7). 

We needed to get from Cairo to Tunis, Tunisia and the only direct flight was on Egyptian Air.  Four hours.  I couldn’t do it so instead we flew Royal Jordanian Air (7 out of 7) from Cairo to Amman, Jordan to Tunis flying east to fly west adding an additional five hours of flight time to the day.  Poor sweet Bill…

My mother and sister had a cruise stop in Tunis right after 911.  While my mother was looking at trinkets the shopkeeper said to her “Death to America”.  So for 24 years that’s all I’ve known about Tunisia.

Warranted or not before I was a tiny bit reluctant about going.  Perception is reality, right?

Tunis felt  like a European city – especially after all the countries we just explored.  It’s the capital and located in Northern Africa bordered by Algeria, Libya and the Mediterranean.   

Carthage adjoins Tunis and was a powerful city in times of antiquity.  In the mid-2nd century they fought many wars with Rome.  Rome destroyed the town of Carthage and ruled for next 500 years.   The Romans just moved further up the hill above Carthage, and the typical amphitheater and wee-preserved villas remain.  In the 7th century the Arabs converted the Berbers to Islam and in the late 19th century it became a French colony.  The country gained its independence in 1956.

I tell you this because they seem to inhabit these cultures.  They speak, Berber, Arabic, Tunisian Arabic, and French.  English is not on their radar and only some hotel workers speak it.  Arabic is their primary language with French spoken on the news and in their government.

It’s interesting to me, after coming from more stringent Muslim countries, that for a country that’s 98% Muslim women’s clothing ranged from abayas with hijabs to no head covering, tank tops and shorts.

We toured what’s left of Carthage.  Now just ruins and a UNESCO World Heritage site.  History runs deep here.  In the classical world it was one of the most affluent cities and one of the most important trading hubs in the Mediterranean.

Lucky for us and unplanned, the Medina (another UNESCO site) was closed for their traditional Sunday holiday from work.  A few shopkeepers and cafes were open but we got to stroll unburdened by crowds. Feral cats and trash covered the ground while exquisite doors and beautiful bougainvillea garnished the walls.  It was great fun getting lost within the narrow alleyways.  We need our GPS to find our way out. It’s full of shops, mosques, palaces, cafes, restaurants, homes and madrasas.

Counter to the quietness of our Medina visit was the overcrowded (rightfully so) and beautiful seaside town of Sidi Bou Said, reminiscent of Greece with white washed buildings with blue trim and doors.

Tunisia was a welcome contrast to the countries we’ve visited so far. It is quite first-world, but seems tenuous and iffy.

Off to our next and final country…

Cairo, Siwa and Alexandria – Egypt

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Another supposedly quick flight from Aswan back to Cairo.  Let me clarify.  All these Egyptian Airline flights are hailed to be one to one and a half hours but they never leave on time, they circle for a half hour before landing and this time the luggage took 45 minutes.  Ultimately not so quick.

Yes, we too freaked out about checking our luggage but Egyptian Airlines is a stickler about the weight of carry on bags so we’ve had to check our “carry-on” suitcases.  Thank goodness nothing was lost.

The plane was supposed to land at 9:20 pm and it wasn’t until 11:45 that we were in bumper to bumper traffic heading to our hotel.  It was in  both directions.  We assumed there was an accident but learned that it was normal.  The only times there wasn’t traffic was from 4:00-6:00 am.

We had a day to hit the areas missed on the first visit weeks ago.

Cairo- named the city of a thousand minarets and for a good reason.  They are everywhere.  The country’s population is approximately 75% Muslim and 25% Christian (referred by the name Coptic Christian which means Egyptian Christian).   We’ve been told many times that they all live together peacefully.

We hired a great driver who spoke very little English but it was his mission to get us safely to all the correct places.  He was so happy because he was recently divorced and didn’t have to listen to blah, blah, blah anymore.  He even mocked her tone and mentioned his new found freedom many times.  I wonder if his wife is singing the same song?

This time Saints Serguis Bacchus Church (one of the oldest churches in Egypt – 4th century) was open. Famous because the Holy Family (Joseph, Mary and Jesus) stayed at this site during the reign of King Herod.

The Cave Church – carved out of the side of the Mokattam mountain seats 20,000 people. 

The church goers and inhabitants are Zabbaleen people and reside in the adjoining area referred to as Garbage City.  30,000 inhabitants live and work there.  The community, approximately 90% Christians, are trash collectors.  It’s crazy – they collect and sort trash!  It is everywhere – loose on the streets, down the alleys, in the buildings, in the back of trucks – everywhere.  The driver freaked out a bit when I asked him to stop so I could get out the take a photo. It’s fascinating.  Click HERE to read a quick article about them.

More photos from Cairo:

The following day we drove 10 hours to Siwa, an oasis in the western desert and which gives true meaning to the term BFE.  We made a short stop in Marsa Matrouh to see the stunning colors of the Mediterranean Sea and where the Egyptians are building hundreds of thousands of homes and resorts from west of Alexandria all the way to Libya.  It’s called Al Alamain.  Someone remarked that it will be like Dubai.  Dubai doesn’t have a trash problem and unfortunately Egypt does.  They’ll have to work on that one.

We had four military stops and saw a missile site on the way.  Apparently Egypt doesn’t trust its neighbor to the west.

Siwa is 30 miles east of Libya.  They have 230 underground springs, too many date palms to count and Siwa Salt Lake but more like individual ponds with a salt destiny 95% compared to the Dead Sea which is 34%.

Salt

Siwa mines and sells salt to the world.  The salt trucks command the road to and from town and the sides of the highway glisten with what looks like broken glass but in fact it is the spillage from the trucks.

Already famous, Alexander the Great visited the Oracle of Siwa and thus began his legendary story.  It’s worth a quick read by clicking HERE.

From sunsets to the Dead Mountain, from the oracle to floating in the salt lake, this trip was really worth the long drive.

Many homes are made with limestone bricks
Sade, our driver
One of the many springs

It took seven hours to drive to Alexandria, our last city to tour in Egypt.  I think after being here for just shy of a month we were Egypted-out.  We caught some of the highlights and after a night here we headed back an airport hotel in Cairo to head to the next country.  Along the way at a rest stop this lion cub (six months old)was sitting on a man’s lap and after petting him for a bit he asked if I wanted to hold him –  all 66 pounds.

Some tidbits we picked up along our Egyptian journey:

When the call to prayer starts it’s like Row Row Row Your Boat. Each Mosque starts about a second or two apart.

Muslim men can have four wives.  They divorce and can marry a girl as young as 16.

When a plot of land is purchased a building permit is bought and depending on the lot size the house can range from four to nine floors.  The first generation builds the first floor and then their children build the next floors making a family compound.

Women can drive but it’s unusual.  In Siwa women do not drive.

Donkey carts are still a form of transportation.  Tuk-tuks – either the kind that carry people or the ones that have a truck bed are widely used.  You see both in the cities but lots in the countryside.

The people are over the top kind and friendly.  Their customer service and concern for our welfare was immense.  At first we thought it was fake but learned it’s their way.

There are lots of road police check points out of the cities.  Being American seemed to create a small fuss.  Many drivers told us that they paid more attention to Americans because they worried about our government’s retribution if something should happen to us. At one check point the driver told the police we were from England so we could drive on by. It felt more like they didn’t trust us. Who knows?

All monuments, temples, museums, etc. are guarded by police, military and/or undercover (not so much as their weapons revealed) agents and were armed with pistols and/or AK 47.

Shopkeepers, taxi drivers, and hawkers are relentless.

It was interesting the response we got from people when we told them we were from either America or Canada.

Young Chinese tourist flock here and seem more interested in taking photos of themselves than seeing the sites.  The girls are beautiful (their outfits a bit revealing). They pose for photos and then look at their images in the camera and pose again.  I asked Grok about it and in China they have two apps similar to Instagram and it has become a thing to travel to foreign places to take photos and post them to their social media accounts.  They were oblivious to everyone around them.

It seems like every man is named Mohammed and if not it’s Ahmed followed by Saed.

If a home/land owner digs on their property and finds ruins it’s a nightmare as the government would seize their property.  So putting in a swimming pool might be risky.

There are plenty of explanations for how all the pyramids and temples were built but regardless it is hard to wrap our heads around it.  It’s beyond what we can imagine.  There is so much more to discover.

Heading East to go West…

 

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!

New Delhi, India

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Another quick flight to New Delhi, India.

We’re just killing time waiting for friends to meet us in a couple of days.

I had forgotten about all the trees and beautiful parks in New Delhi – so refreshing.  Our hotel was full of Westerners (our first noticeable exposure of this since we left home) and Indians.

New Delhi is the federal capital of India and quite metropolitan.  29,500,000 million people live there.  India is now has more inhabitants than any other country – beating China in 2023.

Last time we checked things out on our own.  This time we hired a local guide to show us around.  The temples/mosques built 500 plus years ago are stunning – a mixture of stone and marble with intricate carvings and honeycomb windows.

We have generally used Delhi in the past to make connections to somewhere else. This time we saw some of its history and chaos. Most of the meaningful historic sites were built during the Mughal or British occupation.

Bill had to cover his legs in the Mosque

*click on photos to enlarge and click on blue words to see videos

The architecture and attention to detail is unparalleled.  The juxtaposition in a modern city really is jaw dropping.  Out of nowhere stands these structures that have withstood crippling growth and hundreds of years of wear and tear.

We also ventured into Delhi – the old part of town has its own version of utter chaos.  Kinda like Dhaka and Kolkata but unique by its offerings.  It’s wedding central.  Indian weddings last days and are elaborate.  People come from far and wide to buy garments, costumes, decorations and the whole shebang here in these narrow streets.

The fumes from the adjacent spice market brought on uncontrollable coughing.  As we ventured in deeper we had to cover our faces to keep from choking to death. You can hear others in this video.  It felt like a dry form of waterboarding!  Are the shopkeepers immune or dying a slow death?

I felt troubled watching our peddle driven rickshaw driver, no bigger than me.  He either pulled or peddle three adults through the bumpy, overcrowded streets.  Often times having to pull us backwards so the the puzzle pieces of chaos would fit.  He’s in white with a blue collar in some of my pictures.  I snapped away as we tried to maneuver – capturing everyday life.

It was a great detour.  The food was spicy and oh so delicious.  Throughout India we told the restaurant staff to “bring it on” letting them choose our meals.  It’s not for the faint of heart (palate).

Gorakhpur, India to Lumbini, Nepal

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After two days in Kolkata we hopped on a plane north to Gorakhpur, India.  Our gateway  to Lumbini, Nepal to check another item off Bill’s bucket list.  First Dhaka, Bangladesh then Saudi and now Lumbini, Nepal.  One would think it’s Bill’s birthday.

We stayed one night in Gorakhpur, India and hired a taxi to drive us to Lumbini. Google maps said it would take three hours.

As we waited for the car to arrive it began to pour buckets of rain and the loudest thunder we’ve ever heard crashed down around us.No way – not again! The last time we went to Nepal we drove down from Tibet and it was pouring down rain like the skies were grieving.  The ride to our hotel was treacherous. The muddy, cliff hanging event is still deeply embedded into my anxious brain.  Fearless Bill even speaks of it.

Soooo, this day did not start out well for me.  Poor Bill. The grief this man has to tolerate.

Here rolls in a tiny four door sedan – like a golf cart on steroids. Only the driver’s windshield wiper worked.  I sat on the passenger side and the windshield was a blur.  The car had a quarter tank of gas – visibility was about zero. Whoopee!  It certainly cleared the roads of motorcycles.  We drove with the hazard lights on.  I put my window down about four inches to take a photo and it was if someone threw a glass of water into my face.

There was lots of agricultural land on the drive. Some fields had been cut and cleared but unfortunately there were many fields with piles of newly cut and stacked grain absorbing the rain like a sponge.  

Little shops out of carts and motorcycles that wanted out of the rain parked themselves under the overpasses.

I had read one report on the internet about a woman complaining that they got a new taxi driver who didn’t know the way to Lumbini and took a longer route then necessary.  Yeah well he wasn’t the only one.  The same happened to us. The driver, Saied, was so kind and shy. He drove perfectly and with utter confidence but his path didn’t match my GPS and he had never been to the border.  No problem.  We weren’t in a hurry.

A good portion of the ride bordered the construction of a new Indian highway.  It’s a massive project.  Unlike America’s eminent domain where your home is purchased and ultimately destroyed.  Here they chomped off the fronts of buildings that were in the right of way – leaving the jagged edges of the brick buildings with the remaining rear portion still intact.  Some appeared abandoned but remarkably many were still being used.

There were no flag men or orange cones directing drivers.  The main road would run out with no warning and we’d take the diversion that was carved out of the dirt along side the road.  This was continuous throughout the construction area.  We even drove into oncoming traffic when a tractor was blocking our side of the road.

This seems so foreign to us but appears quite normal to them.

At some point it stopped raining.  Our 3 hour trip turned into six but we made it safe and sound.  Thank God.   

Immigration added to the long drive.  The border crossing went something like this:  Drive there to that tent, wrong, you need to drive back 800 meters in the direction you came from, get an Indian stamp out of the country, now drive over there and show your Nepal visa, not this window, go over there, no sorry, your visa is not correct, wrong entry gate, fill out a new form on computer, no problem, take photo of the screen, no problem, go over there to that window, pay, what no Nepalese money, go change money, over there, no problem, I wait, come back, pay, now go over there to that window, get receipt, go inside to another window, pose for photo, get visa, go back to original tent, get Nepal stamp, good to go!

The muddy border was full of trucks, motorcycles and people crossing on foot.

We got about 100 meters into the Nepal side and Said (our driver) pulled over to get his visa papers squared away.  This took an hour.  A woman immigration officer walked up to my car window and saw Bill’s backpack on my lap and demanded that I empty every item out of it for no other reason than she had the authority to do so.  With grunts and moans she instructed me to open certain bags to see what they contained and then with a wave of a hand she walked away without a word.

Our hotel in Lumbini was only 40 minutes from the border.  It was a huge one story hotel built by the Japanese 40 years ago.  We stayed two nights and virtually had the place to ourselves.  We dined alone and briefly saw one other family.

Lumbini is a Buddhist pilgrim site.  The birth place of Buddha.

In an effort to save time here is the Wikipedia version:

“According to the sacred texts of the Buddhist Commentaries,  Amaya Devi gave birth to Siddhartha Gautama in Lumbini in c. 624 BCE. Siddhartha Gautama achieved Enlightenment, and became Shakyamuni Buddha who founded Buddhism.  He later passed into parinivana at the age of 80 years, in c.544 BCE. Lumbini is one of four most sacred pilgrimage sites pivotal in the life of the Buddha.

Lumbini has a number of old temples, including the Mayadevi Temple, and several new temples, funded by Buddhist organizations from various countries.”

We hired a tuk tuk and visited all the temples.  It was two days after Buddha’s birthday.

All the foreign temples were elaborate.

Our new friends from Delhi
Bill thought he was funny when he he read the sign literally. Everyone else put their shoes by the entry.

The one marking Buddha’s birth place was plain but gathered the most people.

There are a lot of improvement projects going on within the master planned temple area – roads are being paved and sidewalks are being installed.  They seem to be preparing for future tourism.  It will lose some of its rugged charm but will be nice for pilgrims.

Our road trip back to Gorakhpur was on a partly cloudy day.  Thank goodness the rain was gone. Our driver this time came from Gorakhpur so he to get up early to pick us up in the morning.

He went to the border on the quicker route which was quite pleasing to us.  We pulled up and were literally 100 feet from India but hit a quagmire to which one worker consulted with a colleague and then called his boss who perhaps called his boss. A crowd gathered.  After much to do we were informed that our entry visa was from the “other” gate and we need to exit from there. So we turned around to go home the long way!

The driver started showing signs of being tired about two hours from our destination when the craziness of the road slowed for an only a few minutes.  He quietly closed his eyes and tipped his head forward falling asleep.  I yelled his name and touched his shoulder.  He woke with a frightful look on his face and thank goodness did not jerk the wheel.  I motioned for him to pull over and with my hands together, snuggling them in the side of my face, suggesting he needed to sleep.

He pulled off the road and bought chewing gum from a road side vendor and insisted he was fine.  We made lots of noise and opened our windows hoping to keep him alert.  Thank goodness the traffic picked up – regenerating him.

The following morning we were dropped off at the airport. Literally- on the edge of the two lane road – by a gate manned by armed soldiers surrounded by a tall concrete wall topped with concertina  wire.  Come to find out the small airport building is on India’s Air Force Base.  When we landed we thought the armed guards were for the official looking people in the official looking cars that were waiting outside the building not knowing it was a base.  Go figure!

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

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia – Gateway to Mecca

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Our flight was virtually empty.  No more than 40 people on board.

I was a bit nervous about this one.  I had read that if a woman was discovered to have a tattoo the punishment was time in the clinker.  It’s not mandatory but women should be covered from head to toe and in loose fitting clothes to be respectful.

I purchased a used polyester dress that fit the bill in the market in Rwanda and a hijab from a tiny Muslim shop in the same country.  While in the shop this kind gentleman off the street helped the shop keeper translate for our transaction.  When my purchase was finished the man asked me if I was Muslim and then asked me to convert when he wasn’t satisfied with my answer.  We had a pleasant exchange and he tried to persuade me one more time before we said our goodbyes and left.

I put on my new outfit before our flight so I’d fit in as best as I could.  I knew in advance that I was going to be in major trouble wearing polyester but I figured the car, airport and airplane all had air conditioning so what the heck.

It was like someone had wrapped me in cellophane and set me by a campfire.  Chemicals from the polyester rose like smoke signals.  I’m not sure what was worse – a menopausal hot flash or heat stroke from polyester sauna.

When we arrive at the hotel the front desk clerk didn’t have on a hijab so off came mine.  Off came the dress the second we entered the room and never left the closet.  We’ve left the country and the dress stayed behind.

My cotton and linen clothing was much better.  It helped by absorbing sweat but didn’t keep me from being drenched in the 97 degree temperatures.  Holy moly the women here have more endurance than the crazy people who hiked to the top of the volcano to see the gorillas.

Jeddah is Saudi’s second largest city with a population of 3.75 million people.  It’s located on the Red Sea west of Mecca.  In 646 it became a port for pilgrims crossing the Red Sea.

Saudi Arabia has always been closed to non-religious tourism. However, in September 2019 they changed that and opened up to international travel from 49 countries aiming to cut their economic dependence on oil.  Soon after COVID hit and they closed again for 18 months.

We spent all of our time roaming the old part of the city called Al Balad in the historic part of Jeddah. It is beautiful, reminiscent of the crumbling buildings in Havana, traditional Hijazi houses are adorned with wooden Roshan windows and balconies.  Most of them have serious structural issues and are abandoned. In 2019 the crown prince announced a huge multi billion dollar restoration project where now the new and old reside side by side.  An ongoing project.  I hope they don’t restore everything.

The cat population was hefty in Al Balad

The first day the streets were empty.  People were celebrating Eid Al Fitr (breaking the fast) which started the day after the end of Ramadan. The endless shops were all closed as were the restaurants.   I wished we got to see it full of people and Bill said he’d rather imagine it full of people and stroll in the quiet!

I wanted to see Al Balad in the evening when all the lights would be on.  On day two, we ventured back in the afternoon and walked until dusk.  About 4:30 people started coming out bit by bit.  A few shops were open and a couple cafes.  Coffee is big here.  This too was a holiday.

The warm glow of the lights added softness to the evening.  Every so often a breeze would add a moment of relief from the heat.

After our little visa fiasco needing a visa for Kenya you would think we’d be smart and check all the up coming countries we wanted to visit but oh no that would be too efficient.  Our next stop required four days minimum to be approved for our flight that was in three days that had already been purchased.  No getting around it.  So we pivoted.

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 longer detour to Botswana

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Oh my goodness.  Four countries that touch each other – who would have known! HA!

Ok – I knew about Zambia but I didn’t know Botswana was right there and then while in Botswana we learned that Namibia was right across the river.  We were in Namibia in December and noticed this long flag pole portion of Namibia going east from the desert portion that we visited.  It turns out to be Zambia’s attachment to the Zambezi River.

When we learned Botswana was only an hour away Bill and I giggled like we captured a leprechaun.

I did research online and used safaribookings.com to find an operator who would take us on a safari to Chobe National Park the following day.  This time a last minute plan worked out!

Warning: there are way too many elephant photos.  *click to enlarge and click on blue words to see videos.

We had a 7:00 am pickup by Brian, the owner/operator of the tour company who drove us an hour to the border between Zimbabwe and Botswana.   There he left us in the good hands of Cobra aka King our safari guide – funny and fearless.

Had to soak our feet to not spread foot and mouth disease

It was a heart pumping morning as we had two different elephants charge our vehicle.  One towards the hood who wanted to play chicken on the road and the other who came running, down an incline, off the side of the road, closest to me, like he was going to t-bone us.

This one headed for us

The encounter on the road stopped when Cobra turned on the engine.  The sound was enough to frighten the elephant and stop the charge.  We were told they have terrible eye sight and really couldn’t see what he was heading towards – he just sensed the threat.

The is the one who swerved. Phew.

The next elephant, by the grace of God, swerved before hitting us.

In between these incidents word got out in the radio that there were lions in the bush.  Mr. Fearless driver decided he should be to one to find them.  Sure enough a pride of lions lay in the shade under the drooping branches of a wide tree deep in the bush. Sleepy, they showed no interest in us beside the one who got up and walked away (to where?).  I’m snapping photos and Bill tells me to be careful and look for the lion that walked away – concerned that he could circle around us.  I teased Cobra that he was safe in the cab and then asked Bill what was I to do if the lion decided he wanted to eat us???

The drivers are constantly on the radio informing each other when they find game.  As other vehicles approached Cobra had to back and forth it in the bush to turn us around to leave.  Kudos to Cobra.  He had bragging rights this day.

We lunched at the Mawana Lodge on the edge of the Chobe River and then headed for an afternoon boat ride. Maguna, our captain.

Cruising in the river was marvelous.  Botswana rested on one side and Namibia on the other.  In the middle was a narrow island that has been the cause of friction between the two countries for years.  Both sides claim ownership, each calling it by different names.

Hundreds of elephants and African cape buffalo grazed on the island and Namibia side.  The river was narrow enough that we got to go where the action was.  It was peaceful and thrilling.

This guy was mad at the boat

We witnessed a herd of elephants with their young traversing the river.  It was remarkable how they stayed together and kept the babies afloat.

We also saw giraffe, a monitor lizard swimming, and very big crocodiles on our afternoon cruise.

Immigration was super easy and Brian waited for us so he could drop us back off at the lodge in time for Sundowners.  What a day!

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lomé, Togo

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Located on the Gulf of Guinea.  Until the early 19th century it was a European slave trade outpost where Togo and surrounding areas earned the name “The Slave Coast”.

One of the least developed countries in Africa. Germany controlled Togo until the end of World War One at which time rule was transferred to France – they gained their independence in 1960.

Their official languages is French however many “local” languages are spoken. The kids learn both French and English in school.  

Like the Ivory Coast and Ghana babies are named according to the day of the week in which they are born. Their dads are also allowed to choose an independent name. The weekday name must be on their birth certificate.

It exports coffee, cocoa, copra and oil palm kernels.

We didn’t do much here.  Our walk around the town wasn’t exciting.  Old, dilapidated, ugly concrete buildings lined the streets.  The bit of a giggle was the Hotel Palm Beach that must have been something special in its day – now abandoned.

When we first started our walk a young man captured Bill and tried to sell him a used (Bill had no idea) pair of shorts.  Surprising Bill took the bait (on purpose) and purchased the shorts for 5 euros.  I think the gentleman was generally surprised.  The interaction was priceless.  He didn’t have change so he asked Bill to wait while he danced down the street to break the 10 euro bill. 

Out in the distance an old, decrepit pier caught our eye.  My favorite thing to photograph.  Something with a past, declining, fraught with mystery.

The beach, long and silent was virtually deserted.  The accumulation of trash a clue that we were the only fools out in the heat of the day.

*found this on TripAdvisor about the pier: