Let's talk about Mary

A couple of weeks ago, Olga came up to me with a burning question:
Olga: Do you think Mary had sex?
Me: Do you mean the Virgin Mary?
Olga: Yes, do you think she had sex?
Me: Yes, but not until after Jesus was born.
Olga: Really? You think Mary had sex! Then why is she called the Virgin Mary?
Me: Because she was a virgin when she conceived Jesus, and didn't have sex until after he was born.
Olga: How do you know that? Did Jesus have any brothers and sisters?
Me: Yes, one of his brothers was named James.
Olga: You know his name?
Me: Yes.
Olga: You really know his name!
Me: Yes.
Olga: But Catholics don't believe that Mary had sex, do they?
Me: No, Catholics have a different view of Mary. They don't like to think of her having sex.
Olga: In my religion, it is a bad thing to be a virgin if you are married. It would be a sin to not have sex with your husband.
Me: Well, I think she had sex with Joseph, but not until after the birth of Jesus. After all, she was a good Jewish girl, so of course she had sex with her husband.
Olga: Really? you believe she was Jewish?
Me: Of course.
Olga: Why do Catholics think different things?
Me: Catholics have a number of different beliefs about Mary, and I really cannot speak for them. Catholics pray to Mary, and protestants don't, because Protestants believe that you should only pray to God.

By this point, I had had quite enough of the sex life of Mary, so I tried to steer the conversation down a different path.

Me: After all, Christianity is a monotheistic religion.
Olga: I always wondered about that. How can that be? I don't think it is monotheistic.
Me: The Trinity is still one God.
Olga: I don't understand that.
Me: It is like the Shema in Hebrew.
Olga: What do you mean?
Me: You know, "Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad." In Hebrew, the word 'echad' doesn't mean 'one' like when you count 'one, two, three'.
Olga: No, it means one like a group.
Me: Exactly. That is the Trinity. One like a group. That is why Christianity is a monotheistic religion, because it is explained in the Shema.
Olga: I never knew that.

From the sex life of Mary, to Monotheism, in one simple step. Of course, any attempt to define the Trinity risks introducing new (or old) heresies, so lets hope that the orthodoxy police aren't reading my blog.

My friend Olga

At work, I sit next to a woman who is about the most opposite personality you can imagine. I'll call her Olga. She is pretty and fashionable, and wears low cut blouses, and high heels. I'm practical and like casual, comfortable clothes, and only wear flats. She is from Russia. I am from the U.S. She is Jewish, I'm Christian. Religion is significant to her merely for it's traditional or cultural elements -- she is just as likely to refer to herself as an Atheist. I'm a born again Christian.And to top it off, of all the Christian churches in the world, she has a particular antagonism to the Vineyard (my church), because a friend of hers was converted to Christianity by a missionary in Siberia. A missionary from the Vineyard. Truth is really stranger than fiction -- even in a soap opera this would seem implausible.

Of course, it took a while for all these differences to reveal themselves, but apparently our co-workers were were waiting with some amusement to see how it would all play out, since they expected the religious difference to cause sparks to fly.

And yet, we seem to be becoming friends. I'm not doing anything special, just allowing her to be herself. I merely make a point of saying 'Good Morning', and I allow her to say confrontational things without jumping down her throat. And most of all, she knows she is allowed to tease me. This amazes her. Sometimes I think she lays in bed at night thinking up things to say to me.

Olga: Religion causes most of the problems in the world!
Me: You think so?
Olga: Oh, now you will think I am terrible. You must be so offended at what I said. This is why people hate me.
Me: I might not agree with you, but you have a right to your opinion.
Olga: Really? you will let me say that?

Now that we are getting to know each other, and she is no longer afraid of me, I'm finding out that she also has quite a sense of humor. She is sometimes like a kid, teasing me just to see what I'll do. The other day she was sitting with someone at her desk, and suddenly spoke a little louder (so I could hear, of course) and said, "Oh, I hope Ann didn't hear that!". So of course I ran over to her desk, and shook my head, and said with exaggerated sadness, "Olga, Olga, have you been saying bad things?" Whereupon she turned to her visitor and explained: "This is Ann. She's very religious, but she's not uptight."

She has been going through the stresses that working mothers experience, and often refers to herself as a terrible mother. And then I protest and say I don't think she is a terrible mother at all. And she is always surprised, because she expects me to reprimand her lack of perfection. I finally said that I thought she was a much better mother than I would be, and she was astounded.

Then there was the day she was sitting at my desk, sharing a story about her daughter. I didn't want to interrupt her, so when my phone rang I briefly answered, and simply said, "Sorry, I'm in a meeting, I'll call you back." She was touched that I had valued her conversation enough to hang up on the other person, but was appalled that I had said I was in a meeting. I asked her:

Me: do you feel that I lied?
Olga: (very primly). That is between you and your Lord and Savior!

Tanzania: Arusha

We meet in the parking lot to get in the land rovers for the last time. Ali, the other driver, gives a very simple but eloquent speech, thanking us for visiting, and reminding us that everything we spend helps the economy, and that most of the staff are supporting families who also benefit from our trip. It is somehow very honest and appealing.

We arrive at the airport. YIKES! I don’t do small planes. That’s why I didn’t choose a trip with flights between camps. And yet here I am. Instead of tarmac, I see a dirt road, which is apparently the runway. What if a zebra wanders across at the wrong time? If a couple of geese can bring down a jet, what would a wildebeest do to a Cessna?

There is actually not room for our trip leader with us on the plane, so he departs on a scheduled flight at 9, and the rest of us take the charter a little later. I need the gap in between to find a restroom, because I’ve finally ended up with a bit of a GI upset, and I’m needing hourly bathroom runs. Our plane arrives, and we wedge ourselves on it. There isn’t even a proper aisle between the seats, just a little slot. I find myself wondering what happens if someone tries to get on whose hips are too wide. Do they have to sit on the duffle bags in the back? I see a zipper above my head, and am momentarily disconcerted to think that the plane zips together, but then I realize it is only the lining. Once we take off, I stare at the instrument panel as if my concentration is somehow keeping the plane aloft. We pass ngorongoro and everyone leans over to look out the window. I try to look without leaning too close, subconsciously afraid I’ll tip the plane over. Luckily the plane and the pilot are oblivious to my silly fears.

We land uneventfully, and find vans and drivers ready to take us to our day room at the Arusha hotel. The hotel has a lovely peaceful garden, but most people are eager to spend every last minute (and dollar) shopping. I prefer to stretch my legs and see a bit of the city, so our trip leader arranges for a hotel staff member to take me on a walk. Emanuel suggests going to the market, which sounds great to me, so we set off. I’m curious about his name, and ask him if it is from the Bible. “Yes”, he says. He is a Lutheran, it turns out.

We stride down the street at a good pace. I’m so glad to have a chance to get my blood moving before the long flights home. When we arrive at the market it is hard to see how big it is, because there are multiple sections, and it is sort of like a maze within a maze. At first I wonder why I’m instantly recognizable as a foreigner, and then I realize that my white skin is immediately eye catching.

Even though most of the vendors don’t really speak any English, they greet me with ‘hello, hello’. The excitement wanes as I murmur a ‘tafadhali’ as I squeeze by, or an ‘asante’ as they move aside. I would love to photograph it all, but I prefer to blend in (as much as I can with my white skin), rather than causing a commotion. Occasionally Emanuel tells me I can take a picture. I’m not sure why he stops at those particular spots, but it gives me a chance to take a few shots. I try to be quick and inconspicuous, and we move on, stepping over people and occasionally crossing ditches that are spanned by uneven wooden slabs.

Some of the people are eagerly desperate. Some are hopelessly apathetic. Both are depressing, and make me feel vaguely guilty, simply for living in a situation with more privileges.

The market has close packed rows, with vendors sitting in the narrow aisles. Boys rush up offering plastic bags to induce me to buy. Vegetables are piled high: tomatoes, carrots, bananas, beans, pineapples, coconuts, cassava. We turn a corner and are in the butcher section, where I see hunks of mysterious meat hanging in the dark, covered with flies. Emanuel identifies hunks of goat for me, and then something dark and shapeless, which is the stomach, which people buy because it is cheaper. I notice a faintly rotten scent and I’m glad when we move on to the next section: rows of plastic jugs of cooking oil; woven baskets in all sizes and shapes, some four or more feet across; containers of cheap colored plastic; huge flat wooden spoons (nothing like the intricate carvings in the curio shops). Then we are back in foodstuffs: grains, some identifiable like rice, some indistinguishable. Some of the grain is piled in huge pyramids – I wonder how you take any without causing a collapse of the structure. One pile is called millet, but it doesn’t look like the millet I’m familiar with – there are lots of little hairy fibrous tendrils. I wonder if that is the source of the awful bitter hot cereal I tried at one of the lodges. I see piles of herbs and spices, which intrigue me, but I don’t quite dare to buy any – it is clear that Western concepts of hygiene are non-existent here, and I don’t really want to bring home a souvenir that keeps giving in the wrong way.

The odors change in each aisle – piles of tiny dried fish are less stinky than I expect, but still make their presence known. The fruit aisles are warmly aromatic, and the baskets and bowls have a clean woody scent.

This is yet another face of Africa. We’ve seen luxury hotels, innumerable curio shops, dusty game reserves, and exotic native villages, but I suspect that the market represents the people who are not supported by the tourism industry. There are way more vendors than there are purchasers, so I wonder who ends up buying the products, or whether they simply sit there day after day.

And finally it is time for a quick dinner, and our trip to the Kilimanjaro Airport. I re-pack, rolling my bottle amarulo in my inflatable seat cushion in the hopes that it will survive the trip in my duffle bag. Our group finds seats together and waits in the heat. Every time there is an announcement, we hope it will be time to board, but it is hard to understand what is being said. I’m amused that the chimes that sound to get people’s attention are tuned to the notes of an old western song, so I teach it to my travel mates:
I’m going to leave old Texas now,
They’ve got no use for the long horned cow.

Finally we embark, and take off for our flight home. My mind keeps recalling miscellaneous thoughts of Africa: the schoolchildren with the brightly colored uniforms – but why do they wear those comical zebra socks? The intersections in Nairobi without stoplights – how does anyone know when it is their turn to go? The incontinent woman in the Maasai village – was this a complication of FGM? Is there any chance she’ll get surgery? Esau (my delightful guide at Gibb’s Farm), teaching me the Jambo song as we hiked; The lame zebra – will it’s leg heal before it turns into someone’s dinner? The lame lion – who has a better chance because apparently the rangers may actually arrange for veterinarian help for him; The crocodile who was so frustrated trying to eat that impala – did he finally manage to dismember it? Esther (my porter at Sweetwaters) saying “African women are STRONG!” And a small boy who was begging alongside the road – his sad face and pleading gesture haunts me still.

Tanzania: Northern Serengeti

Today the plan is to drive north as far as we can, to try to catch the edge of the migration. Normally we would go on a morning and afternoon game drive, but the plan changes so we stay out for the day, to cover more territory, and drive north towards the border.

It is heartbreaking seeing the dry river bed. I know there has been a drought, and that this is the dry season, but somehow the dry river bed brings it home.

A vulture catches Roman’s attention, and we take anther look. And hidden in the grass in the shadowed depths of the dry river lurk the lions, waiting for an unwary visitor to come naively looking for a drink. We can’t decide if we want to see this happen or not, but the situation doesn’t come up, so it’s not up to us anyway. So the vulture is waiting for the lion, and the lion is waiting for the wildebeest, and meanwhile we see the monkeys running away. At the beginning of my trip, I was surprised by how little the various animals seemed to interact with each other, but now I’m learning different things to look for, and there is more interplay than I noticed at first.

We see zebras, wildebeest, Thompson’s gazelles, hartebeest, topi, grants gazelles. Then some male and female lions under a tree, with another male on a rock, all dozing and raising their heads occasionally to look around, and then falling back asleep, with sinking heads and drooping eyelids.

Our boxed lunch today is an improvement from the previous ones. Thank you mbuzi mawe!

After lunch the van ahead stops by a candelabra tree. We can’t figure out why they stopped – we’ve seen those trees before. But we have not seen a lion in a candelabra tree before. I still can’t believe that the guide saw this –Even when I take a picture with the camera zoomed all the way (12x), there is a tiny patch of brown, but that’s it. How in the world he saw this while driving on those rough roads is a mystery.

Finally we reach the edge of the migration, crossing the Grumeti river. We are at a distance, but can see the wildebeest climbing up the bank, and can hear their grunts. In addition, we also see dik dik, bushbucks, cape buffalo, giraffe, elands, warthogs, elephants, steinbuck, klipspringer, ostrich, hartebeest, and guinea fowl.
As we approach the northern border between Kenya and Tanzania, the size and density of the herds increases – massive, endless herds of wildebeest, interrupted by zebras and buffalo herds. We continue until we get to the gate 10k from the border.

As we turn back from the border we are surrounded by wildebeest. There are processions on either side of the road, and another parade up the hill, interspersed with zebra again. In any direction you look, you can see more and more. They seem endless. Earlier in the day they were clustered under the trees or just milling about. Now they are moving purposefully along, near the Golongonja River.

The road here is not nearly as bumpy as the one in the Ngorogoro crater area, but we are traveling faster because of the distance, so the dust is impressive. One of our ladies politely confides that the advantage of having a mastectomy is that you only bounce on one side, and she wishes her sister were here, because as a double mastectomy survivor she wouldn’t bounce at all, so she could sit in the back seat all the time! She definitely wins the ‘when life gives you lemons make lemonade’ award.

When we get back to camp, most people gravitate to showers, naps, drinks (or all three). A few of us eagerly try another sunset walk. This time we end up with a woman whose private guide courteously includes us. I’m not used to having such an entourage, since we also have the camp staff and the guard. The guide (working for Roy’s) is a Maasai, who shares his personal experiences in a vivid and appealing way. We stop by a sodom’s apple bush, and he relates a story from his childhood. The children had to walk 10k to school, and one day one of the girls was complaining of a stomach ache. It got worse and worse until she couldn’t walk. They tried to carry her, but they were too little and it was too far.

“She was crying, and we were crying too, because we didn’t know what to do. Then we encountered a group of warriors. They asked us what was wrong, and suddenly they disappeared. But they weren’t going away, they were looking for this plant--sodom’s apple. They pulled it up and took the outer layer from the root and forced her to eat it. In a little while, maybe 20 minutes, she was better. This I know, because I saw it.”

We are all a little wistful over dinner – it is our last dinner together in Africa. I’m not ready for my trip to be over. In fact, most of us admit that we would enjoy staying on if our schedules (and money) permitted. A couple of people are clearly ready to go home, however. They are the ones who weren’t that interested in the trip themselves, but were accompanying someone else. I keep thinking: our last dinner; Our last night in a tent; Our last lion.

Tanzania: Mbuzi Mawe

We go on a short game drive on the way to pick up the ballooners. Wildebeest, impala, warthogs, thompson’s gazelles, vervet monkey, maribou stork, olive baboons, and lions. A male and female wait under a tree while a second female investigates the vehicles. I can’t help but laugh as I realize that she’s too close to get a good picture. I lean way out of the hatch to try to get a better angle, and don’t realize until later that maybe it wasn’t too smart.

We pick up the ballooners at the wilderness lodge. They are bubbling over with enthusiasm over their experience. I’m glad they had a great time, but I don’t regret not going – it would be too scary for me. At the lodge, the rocks are dramatic, and there is a comical sight because a rock hyrax has positioned himself at the base of a huge rock, and it looks as if he is holding the whole thing up. We also stop at the little museum that has the wildebeest walk – a self-guided tour that explains the migration. There is also an opportunity to stay and watch a movie about the Serengeti, but as one of the guys says “I can watch movies after dark – now I want to see animals!

And then on to another game drive on the way to our next camp. We go back to the Seronera river. The zebras are there again, still running in and out. Now we see hippos at the same time, but they don’t seem to bother the zebras. But a huge herd of buffalo approaches and the zebras run out and wait on the far bank. As we drive through the herd, we revise our estimate upward, from 500 to 1000. We see lots of topi, as well as elephants.

We end up at the wonderful mbuzi mawe tented camp. Dennis asks if we can take a walk and I’m excited to join – I didn’t even know it was an option. The camp arranges it for us. We set out with Ivan and an armed guard. Ivan is actually a physician’s assistant, but does a fine job for us describing the trees and wildlife signs that we pass.
He is deceptively casual when he points out the lion up on the rock. We’ve seen lions much closer, but now we are on foot, with nothing in between us, and it feels totally different. The lion is just a flash of tawny brown against the rock. “Are we ok here?” we ask. Both guard and guide are alert but unconcerned. But then the stakes mount – there are three little cubs! You can barely see them without binoculars. I’m torn between wishing we were much closer, and thinking we should be much farther away. The lion disappears, and I have visions of her circling around us. Ivan tries to be comforting. The last security guard who died was killed by a buffalo, not a lion. I’m not quite as reassured as I’m supposed to be. In actuality, we’re really very far away, but I just don’t have the experience to know what a safe distance is.

In the middle of all this, we are experiencing a glorious sunset. I keep pivoting around to watch the sunset, and then back to see if I can still see the cubs. What an amazing walk!!!

The tents are wonderful. Other than the fact that they have canvas walls, it seems quite a misnomer to call them a tent. Imagine two four poster beds (to hold the mosquito netting), 2 nightstands and lamps by each bed, a ceiling fan, desk, coffee table and 2 chairs. Let’s not forget the bathroom, accessible via a canvas zippered opening in the back: flush toilet, 2 sinks, and a solar heated shower, that was not just warm but truly hot.

The food is very good, and is also nicely served. Luckily they got the baboon out of the dining room before we came to eat.
My bed was comfortable, with a really warm blanket and lots of pillows. But I was roused several times by my roommate loudly snoring. She didn’t do this before. I wonder if she’s sick. It sounds quite odd and uncomfortable. At 6:15 I get my wake-up call – a friendly good morning, with a delivery of hot chocolate. I sti in my 4 poster bed, drinking hot chocolate, and think that I could get used to this.

Day 17 – Oct 26
Over breakfast everyone excitedly comments on the lions that roared all night. I suddenly realize that my poor roommate was innocent of those noises! Good thing I didn’t accuse her! And how amazing that a simple shift in perspective changes the situation from annoying to appealing and exciting. I’m pretty sure there is a philosophical principle to learn here, but I’m eager to get going on our game drive, so I defer philosophy until later.

Today is our last game drive. I don’t feel as if I’m ‘done’ at all. I still have animals to see. I still have skies to appreciate. I’m even ready to breathe more dust and swat more flies, and eat more boxed lunches. Oh, and on the topic of flies, it’s been rather odd. I’ve had a few bites, but I’m basically not getting stung. What’s especially strange is that for my whole life I’m ALWAYS the one who gets stung. Whether it is mosquitoes, or black flies, or no—see-ums, or yellow-jackets, or wasps, they all make a bee-line (no pun intended) to me and bite, even when no one nearby is bothered. And this time it’s reversed. While it is true that I’m taking precautions, I’m still not sure why the bugs suddenly don’t like me. For 30 years I’ve refused to join my family in the Adirondacks because of the bugs and the long car drive, and yet here I am in Africa. This doesn’t make ANY sense to my friends or family, and I can’t really blame them.

As far as the bugs go, I wear neutral (not blue) clothes, and I treated just the collars and cuffs with permethrin before I left home. I’ve been washing with eucalyptus soap, and have been using controlled release deet (but only occasionally). The tse tse flies land on me, give a little nibble (I feel a small prick) and fly off without really biting.

Meanwhile, my roommate is being eaten alive. She has bites on her neck, hands and ankles. The ones on her ankles have turned into huge blistered infected sores. Last night I encouraged her to ask Ivan (the physician’s assistant at the camp) to take a look. He confirms that they are tse tse fly bites, and that the ones with the unbroken skin should be treated with an antihistamine cream, while the open ones need an antibiotic ointment.

Tanzania: Central Serengeti

We weren’t planning on asking for a room change – it is fine as it is (even though it is not the ‘best’), but ‘H’ wants to be helpful, and told us at breakfast that we are being moved, so we have to rush back to our cabin to repack so they can move us while we are on the game drive.

The morning game drive starts slowly. For some reason, there is very little game near the lodge – you have to travel about 45 minutes until it gets interesting. Finally we start seeing a wonderful variety: dik diks, water buck, Maasai giraffe, impala, vervet monkey, warthogs, zebra, white backed vultures. We see a lion with what appears to be a broken leg. About 50 yards away vultures are eating something. We can’t tell if the lion already ate, or if he is hoping for vulture leftovers. We don’t see how in the world he can hunt with that leg.

We see a maribou stork, and then silver-backed jackals chasing vultures off of a different kill. And another maribou stork, this one flying, looking for all the world like a hang glider. A banded mongoose, Topi, rock hyrax.

Every morning, I tell Roman that I want to see a leopard, and every day he says “maybe – we’ll try”. I finally decide that the problem is that I’ve been asking in English, and perhaps the leopards only speak Swahili, so I practice my request until I can say “I’d really like to see a leopard” in Swahili. Half an hour later we come upon a gathering of vehicles, and see a tail dangling from a tree. Then we see a couple of legs also dangling down. Because of the many branches in the tree, it is really hard to see anything, even though it is close. I try looking out the side window, and standing up looking out the top, but a branch is always in the way. Finally I figure out a better angle crawling on the floor, so I can look under the branch instead. My travel companions ask what in the world I’m doing, but when I exclaim that I’m willing to crawl to see a leopard they all want to crawl too! I manage to see a bit of the rump and an ear. I’m wondering at what point it counts as a sighting! As the vehicles jockey for position on the road, sometimes the view is better, and sometimes worse. One of our party is impatient and wants to leave, but now we are hemmed in. I’m glad, because I just want to stay and watch. She fumes, and I keep my eyes trained on that dangling tail. Finally he stands up on the branch.
He is much bigger than I thought. I’m so glad we were ‘stuck’ here and couldn’t move! Suddenly the leopard leaps across to another branch. I try to photo him, but he is too quick – I succeed only in getting the landing shot: a rump and tail flying in the breeze, silhouetted against the sky. It’s amazing to see something that big jump that fast.

Finally we move off, and continue viewing other game. We enjoy a large herd of elephants – 20 in one family. Then a cheetah hiding under a tree, followed by 4 cheetahs sitting under another tree. The tree is a little ways away, with tall grass in front, and we joke that our photo captions would have to be very specific: “This is the grass that is hiding the cheetahs”. Then we see two lions (a male and a female) under a tree. The lion has a rich red-gold mane. He gets up and walks over to another tree, grandly looks around and returns to the first tree, where the female is sprawled in an ungainly heap. Then another herd of elephants, ‘only’ 9 this time, including a 6 month old baby.

We find a watering hole with oodles of zebras – about 30 are in the water, with others continuously walking in and out. At one point the approach and exit are so orderly it looks like people lining up to receive communion. The water is incredibly muddy. The zebras in the water are churning up the water and making lots of noise just by wading back and forth. Meanwhile some of the zebras on land are ‘barking’, and one is sort of hee-hawing, like a donkey.

Then a family of elephants approaches, and the zebras fly in a panic, only to turn right around and go back into the water. The elephants drink at one end and the zebras at the other, as if there is a line drawn, separating them. Then we hear trumpeting and the zebras rush out again, with mad splashing and flailing and excitement. There is a second herd of elephants on the other bank. The zebras don’t want to be caught up in an elephant fight. One of the elephant herds backs off a little, and the zebras return. Every minute or two, one of the zebras panics and starts a stampede, and then they turn right around and come back. They don’t actually seem very smart. Often the ones galloping out pass the others already lined up to go back in. When the 2nd family of elephants finally enters the water, then all the zebras gallop off, in a flurry of muddy splashes.

The second elephant family decides to eat the vegetation on the far side of the pond, and now they won’t let the first family out of the water. There is clearly some one-upsmanship going on. By the way, I’ve been calling this a pond, but apparently it is actually part of the Seronera River. The interplay between the zebras and the two elephant families continues.

Afterwards, we see vervet monkeys, another lion under a tree on the left, and yet another under a tree on the right. I can’t believe that I’ve lost count of how many lions we’ve seen. I’m sleepy, achy, dusty, hungry, and am dealing with a sinus infection and a bit of a sore throat, but I definitely have my happy face on!

We get back to the lodge for lunch. When we get our new key, we find out that our bags have not been moved, so I go back to reception again and ask them to have the bags moved, as well as the laundry hanging in the bathroom, while we’re at lunch. We’ve packed everything else, but I didn’t want to pack the laundry since it was wet. After lunch I ask at the desk if they’ve moved the bags – I’m not even sure which key I need at this point. They aren’t sure which key I need either. I start getting impatient – we still haven’t washed up after the game drive. They finally send a porter with us, and we find that the bags are in one room and the laundry is in the other room. So I collect the laundry and the porter leaves, and I think we are set. But then I find we have no hot water. I don’t mean it is lukewarm, I mean that nothing comes out of the tap at all. So I go back to reception. They explain that it is a generalized problem in the camp, not our room, and it will be fixed by dinner.

The afternoon game drive is not as exciting. We see a yellow throated sandgrouse, Maasai giraffe, dik diks, Thompson’s gazelles, zebras, fiscal shrike, impala, and a hippo pool with a crocodile.

We return from our afternoon game drive, only to find that we still have no hot water. We go to dinner grubby and sweaty and dirty, only to find that everyone else has showered – in hot water. So I guess it wasn’t a camp-wide problem after all. Our leader assures us he’ll speak to the management and have it fixed while we are at dinner. After dinner we are escorted to our cabin. I enter the bathroom and find no hot water still. I figure that my roommate (as patient as she is), will kill me if this isn’t fixed soon, since she has to rise at 4:15 for the balloon ride, and this is sort of my fault, since I commented on the room. Luckily I suddenly realize that the room has a phone (what a novelty!) so I call reception. Finally the guy comes and works on it and fixes it at around 10:30 at night. At last we are ready for our showers, however now we see that we are missing a washcloth, and have no hand towels at all. At home that would not be an issue, but here you really need something to wipe the dirt off with!

I let my roommate shower first, and then I take mine. I’m hot and dusty and dirty and sweaty and smelly and cranky. But while I’m taking my wonderful hot shower I remember what a marvelous day we had. Who cares about these minor glitches when we had an incredible game drive!

4:15 in the morning comes too soon. My roommate is really, really quiet getting up, but I still hear her alarm clock and the wakeup call. But I figure that it all comes out even, since she has treated me to an extra half hour sleep each morning. I fall back asleep, and then I get up at 6:15 to see the sunrise, since this room finally does have a nice view.

This lodge is a bit inconsistent. The staff have the trademark Serena courtesy, but they are not very competent. I know that things can break even in the best run establishments, but it really shouldn’t take 3 separate requests to get something as basic as hot water fixed. Even in the dining room, a request for tea might take ½ hour, or might never happen at all. We did have our best game drive here, but it takes about 40-45 minutes to even get to the good game viewing area. Meanwhile, the huts look appealing, but are also stiflingly hot.

Tanzania: Oldupai Gorge and Serengeti

Leaving Ngorongoro we get a few more views into the crater. It’s really amazing. I can’t imagine that the Maasai walk up and down to graze their cattle. I also can’t imagine the female elephants walking up and down. I’m beginning to see an Africa pattern here: the Maasai women carry the water and build the huts; the lionesses kill the prey; the female elephants lead the herd. Women in Africa seem to work extremely hard, regardless of the species!. On the rim, we see impala, grants gazelles, secretary birds and zebras. The road is extremely bumpy, and we pass broken down trucks frequently – luckily they have managed to pull to the side enough to not obstruct traffic. I wonder what they will do to fix their trucks.

We stop at Oldupai gorge. We all thought that it was Olduvai, but the guide corrects us. It is named after the oldupai plant, a member of the sisal family. We see the different strata in the gorge. The varying colors of the alternating red and gray help pick out the layers. In the first layer the ‘nutcracker man’ was found, with a massive jaw to grind hard seeds. The formal name was something like australopificus boise, but I have no idea how to spell it. That is dated at 1.8 million years ago. It’s hard for me to take these dates seriously – are they sure it wasn’t 1.9 or 1.7 million? They talk us through each layer, and also give us a great piece of trivia. ‘Lucy’ (found elsewhere, I believe), was actually named after the Beatles song ‘Lucy in the sky with diamonds’. The little museum is quite interesting.

The other members of my group are very self-congratulatory about their sophistication compared to the stupid and ignorant Christians who believe in the Bible story of creation. It doesn't seem the time to tell them that they have a spy in their ranks, but later on I actually get a chance to talk to one of the women who is struggling with the different beliefs in her family. I tell her that being a person of faith and being intelligent are not incompatible, and discuss Genesis with her.

Now on to the Serengeti. It truly is an endless plain. The dust is unbelievable. Every time a vehicle passes us we have to close the windows. But this is our hottest day so far, so we really need the air. So we get really good at sliding the windows open and shut again and again. In the wake of another vehicle, the dust is so thick it is actually like a white-out, with severely obscured visibility. In broad daylight, the wise drivers put their headlights on, to make it easier for the other vehicles to see them. My buff kerchief is working great! All my travel companions start asking me about it.

‘H’ had promised us great bathrooms at the entrance to the Serengeti, and I wonder what planet he is coming from; they are Turkish style ‘squatters’ with broken flushers, and are stopped up with an accumulation of toilet paper and bodily waste. After trying in vain to flush by pulling the cord, I notice a water handle on the wall. I hopefully turn it only to find out that it was a SHOWER! Not what I was hoping for. I walk out sprinkled with water, and realize that I now look as if I’ve somehow got driblets of pee all over. This trip is good at getting rid of any false pride.

We are all sick of those Serena boxed lunches – a dry sandwich of mystery meat (ugh), a piece of roast chicken (usually pretty good, but sometimes covered with congealed fat), a slice of pound cake (ok), an orange drink (ok) , a bottle of water (ok), a container of yogurt (suspiciously foaming and bulging), and a little piece of fruit. We are getting really expert at separating what we don’t want so it can be given away (rather than nibbling at everything and then throwing it out). The picnic area features large, colorful lizards. Not my normal eating companions, but they don’t actually approach us, and don’t bother anyone.

Finally we get going again, and have a game drive on the way to the lodge. The highlight was watching a crocodile trying to eat an impala. It was sort of a tease to watch it, since most of the action happened underwater. Occasionally the croc would rear up with a portion of the impala in its jaws, but it wasn’t managing to tear it apart so it could eat it.

I was still anxious to see a leopard so I looked carefully in every shady spot (since it was now the heat of the day). I had one false alarm which was actually a reebuck hiding in some grass under a bush, and another animal which was in deep shadow a distance from the road – too far and dark to tell what it was. Then I saw a head sticking out from behind the trunk of a tree – I had high hopes, but it was actually a hyena. What a letdown! I think it was my third hyena spotting. The crew in my vehicle was split over whether I should get spotting credit, or a demerit. ;)

All of a sudden we see a big male lion, close to the road. He is lined up so his body is exactly aligned with the shade cast by the trunk of the tree. He lies with his head up, but his eyes closed, breathing heavily. Then he flops over like a baby who has decided to sleep. We see his ribs go in and out when he breathes. Then he sits up again and this time he looks around, but his eyes are so heavy that they keep closing. It makes us tired to even look at him! Something about those drooping eyelids is contagious. Meanwhile, a giraffe grazes on the other side of the road. She hasn’t seen him yet. The lion is so tired he can barely be bothered to look. When the giraffe finally notices him, we see her ears flare out immediately. It looks like a cartoon depiction of surprise. She wheels around to walk off briskly – not panicked, but clearly wary.

We finally reach the hotel – Serengeti Serena. We are so glad for those damp washcloths at the entrance. I can’t believe how dirty I am. We are all tired and achy and hot and dusty and cranky. The hotel is an appealing design, with individual huts.

Tanzania: Ngorongoro Crater

We wake up to find that it is totally clouded-in, and still drizzing. I hope we will see some game, and not skid of the cliff! As it turns out the road down is steep, but not as scary as I feared – there was always a little bit of earth between the edge of the road and the abyss, so even I with my fear of heights didn’t think we were going to fall off the edge after all. I was certainly glad when we made it down, however!

Once down on the crater floor, it’s not as cloudy as it was above, and the drizzle has stopped. We see a couple of lions in the grass, but it’s really a tease – they are so camouflaged that we can barely make them out. I hope we’ll get a better view later. We stop to view some birds. I’m impatient – I have cats to see! Roman says that morning is the best time to see cats, and I really don’t want to waste time on yet another weaver or bustard. So I get sneaky and say “let’s go” in Swahili: “twende tafadhali” [sp?], and it works! Roman starts the engine and we move on. That was even better than learning how to say ‘where is the bathroom?’

We see a cluster of vehicles ahead, and head toward them. It’s the modern equivalent of watching for vultures circling. And indeed, we see 2 lions eating at a kill, with jackals waiting at a distance. A couple more lions are nearby, and finally we notice the big male off on the right. As we focus on the scene, we realize there are more and more lions: 5,6,7,8! And then off to the left, another female guarding a second kill. Every once in a while she looks over at the rest of the pride, as if to say: “dinner’s ready!” The other lions slowly start walking that way, so we shift our position to the second kill.

As more and more lions amble over, they crowd in until there is a veritable pile of lions obscuring the kill. They are not that hungry, having already feasted at the previous kill. Two quickly go in search of an after-dinner drink – a small mud puddle right in front of the vehicle ahead of us. From our angle, all we can see is 2 tails stretching out from the side of the land rover. There are still a few lions at the kill, and suddenly the male appears from the rear – we get a great view of him. He approaches too fast for me to un-zoom my camera, so my last shot is an extreme close-up (which has been very satisfactory at scaring my friends at home :o ). Then he proceeds to wend his confident way up the line of vehicles, spraying the tires as he goes. He makes it clear who is boss.

Another lion starts to cross the road, then lies down right in the middle, effectively blocking traffic. We can’t help but think he is disdainfully amused. More and more vehicles congregate. The scene rays out from the lions in the road, surrounded by the various land rovers, with the kill slightly off to the side. Then I suddenly notice that the other lions have now circled around us --we are surrounded by lions! It’s a good thing they are not hungry. My face keeps alternating between open-mouthed awe and sheer happiness. My roommate calls that my happy cat face. She gets that way when she sees elephants.

Eventually the lions disperse and we do too. After seeing more wildebeest (a darker color than we have seen before) we also see a zebra parade, and a handful of warthogs.

We head over to a curve in the road where a few vehicles have assembled, and try to figure out what they are staring at. Their heads are pointing in the direction of a trio of warthogs, but we can’t imagine what is so fascinating. Roman is the first to spy the cheetah hidden in the tall grass. At first I can’t see it at all, but it raises its head, which helps. Once I get a fix on the position, I see the spots faintly through the grass, even when his head disappears again. But then I stare so hard I’m not even sure I’m seeing anything.

Luckily we get a better chance later, as Roman spies a cheetah seated in the grass. I couldn’t see it at first, so he told us to look for the stick. Then I saw it – it really did look like a stick, or a long neck poking up from the grass. I couldn’t figure out how that shape could be a cheetah. I wasn’t familiar with those narrow shoulders and long lean body. Finally I got a closer view through my binoculars and realized I was looking at his whole torso. It’s funny how much you have to train your eyes to see the animals.

We go to the picnic area for lunch and bathrooms, eating in the land rover because the kites are attracted to food, and can actually be dangerous. I’m getting antsy again as time passes – we don’t need to spend so long eating a dry little sandwich and cold chicken leg. We could be seeing animals and instead we are just milling about. But that’s just my NYC impatience talking – I’m very task oriented, and right now my agenda is to see game. We get going again and all is fine.

Later in the afternoon we get a real treat, with an exquisite performance by two cheetah brothers. They walk up the road, approaching us with casual unconcern. We watch with delight, and whisper our desires – “oh, I wish the back one would hurry up so I could get them both in frame (done). I wish they would cross over there so we could see their profiles (done). I wish they would turn their head so I could see their face (done). I wish they’d walk to the top of the hill so I could get a silhouette (done). Never has a subject posed more obligingly. They watched some distant gazelles, but unfortunately we had more interest in a chase than they did, so nothing happened.

After the delicious tension of the cheetahs, we turned to comic relief at the hippo pool. The hippos are crowded side by side, with a couple further away at each end. We are amused by the splashing, which happens via no visible cause. The hippos off by themselves at the end have a tendency to roll instead of splash. I take a picture of one with a foot sticking up in the air, and realize that when I get the picture back I’ll have no idea what it is.

As we approach the exit and wind through the forest area, we are all looking for an elephant for Idelle – it is her favorite animal (other than gerenuk) and it is funny that we have seen a single one in the crater (except for one far in the distance, which doesn’t really count.) Just as it is almost too late we pass one under a tree, about 20 yards from the road. His tusks are huge, as long as his trunk, and the guide figures he’s about 60 years old, and probably on his last set of teeth, with only a short lifespan left to go. We stare soberly as he says that, realizing that there is no way to delay the normal process of nature.

The full list of animals we saw included golden jackal, wildebeest, lions (including a pride of 9 at 2 different kills), greater flamingo, lesser flamingo, Thompson’s gazelles, Egyptian geese, cheetahs, kori bustard, hartebeest, rufous tailed weaver, ostrich, black rhino (in the distance), warthogs, spotted hyena, grants gazelle, silver backed jackal, cape buffalo, sacred ibis, hadada ibis, hippopotamus, grey heron, crested crane, secretary bird, elephant, olive baboons.

The trip back up to the rim is steep and bumpy, but again not as bad as I was afraid of. But the cumulative effect of these bumps has taken a toll on my back, and I’m in some pain after we get to the hotel. I stop by reception on the way in and schedule a massage. I really need to do something or I won’t be in shape to go tomorrow. So after the excellent massage I take a hot shower, and pop some aleve, and apply some bio-freeze, and then join the group for cocktails. 5 muscle relaxants in a row has to be a record, and it works. I’m ok in the morning.

Tanzania: Road to Ngorongoro

After pouring all night, the rain does not let up this morning. I’ve totally misjudged the weather on this trip. It hasn’t been as hot as I expected (although I will find that the Serengeti is hotter), and while I expected a couple of showers, I didn’t expect this pounding unceasing rain – isn’t this the dry season? We ask about the rain, and they confirm that it has not rained in 3 months, until now. I try to be happy with them.

We leave Gibbs farm and go to Karatu, the nearby town. The original plan was to see the market, but the rain washes that out, so instead we travel around doing a couple of errands for people. Faye is looking for a disposable camera (to replace the one she lost in Nairobi), and Idelle is looking for Amarulo liqueur. We are clearly in a local part of the little town now – suddenly the signs on the shops are all in Swahili rather than English, and when we find a liquor store it won’t accept dollars (and while we had gotten Kenya shillings, we didn’t get any Tanzania shillings). We drive around some more and end up at a nearby lodge, hoping to find a camera for Faye. While we are there, we are treated to yet another welcome dance, this time by the Iraqw tribe (no, not the same as Iraq!)

We get back on the road and stop briefly at the little museum at the entrance to Ngorongoro, however after killing all that time in the village, now we are in a hurry. Because of all the rain, the big trucks have been forced to wait at the entrance (so as to not block the way) but now they are being allowed to proceed.
We want to go ahead of them rather than behind, in case they get stuck, so we jump back in the land rover and set off. I can feel the tires slipping. It is scary enough here on the rim, and I’m more and more anxious about the road down into the crater tomorrow. The roads are amazingly bumpy, but I suspect it is because there are basically no locals -- the Maasai walk, and everyone else is either a tourist or working at the hotels.

When we arrive at the lodge, ‘H’ hands us our keys. I ask him if he has given me one with a good view. He assures me ‘yes, the best’. We go to our room and find that while the room is beautiful, it is clearly not ‘the best’. It’s on the lower level, and the grass and brush obstruct the view, so you can look out across the crater, but you can’t look down, while the second level has grand vistas. I’m a bit annoyed. I’ve had specific talks with him explaining that my priority is a good view, and he keeps yessing me, but ignoring my request. I totally understand that everyone cannot get the best room all the time, but it bugs me that he looks me in the face and tells me my room is the best when it is clearly not. At lunch, he asks how our room is, and I tell him I would prefer one with a better view, on the second floor. He says he will try, and after lunch appears with a new key. I can’t help confirming:
“Does this room have a better view?”.
“Yes”, he replies.
“Is it on the second floor?”.
“No”.
“Then why are you saying it is better?”
“I thought you just didn’t like your room and wanted a different one.”
So then we say we want to keep the old room, because it is not worth the hassle to move if the view will not be improved. So now he thinks I am irrational and hard to please. Sigh. I’m not sure whether I’m just paranoid, or whether there is really a pattern that single women get the worst rooms.

On the other hand, none of the rooms here are bad. The room is beautiful; with every amenity you could ask for, so I get over my snit and decide to have a good time. Everything is really working out perfectly, time after time. It’s just that this one detail about a view has rubbed me the wrong way.

I find the observation porch, and am enthralled looking through the telescope. I see zebras, wildebeest, elephants, and a rhino. Occasionally someone else stops by and I step back and invite them to take a look. They always seem surprised that I’m relinquishing my spot, but I don’t understand why anyone would refuse to take turns. As it is getting chilly, I run back to my room to get my fleece, only to find that the briefly clearing weather was just temporary, and the rain and clouds are back with a vengeance. I’m worried that even if it clears tomorrow, the road with be too muddy to traverse safely.

Most of our group seems to spend the afternoon either napping or in the gift shop. I’m glad I at least spent some time looking into the crater. If it doesn’t clear up that might be my only view of it! I realize that I was so worried about my unknown roommate before the trip, that I spent my energy praying about her rather than the weather. I have to admit I got a good deal out of it, because she has been a terrific roommate, so I can’t complain.

This evening we were supposed to have a walk by a naturalist at the hotel. As it turns out, the naturalist was not there, but a guide took us. It was chilly and damp and muddy, and I was surprised that our whole group went. Our guide was Maasai, and explained the tribal custom that had knocked out his bottom front teeth. In the past, there were so many cases of tetanus that they developed this idea to prepare for lockjaw, so a patient could be fed through a cow-hide straw. I asked him whether they would accept vaccinations if they were made available, and he said yes. I though it was heartbreaking that children’s teeth are being knocked out by their loving parents in an effort to protect them, when a safe vaccine exists.

After the walk, our feet had a huge build-up of mud (probably mixed with various dung). I scraped and rubbed my sneakers, and was amazed that the layer was still almost an inch thick! I’ve never had to work so hard to clean off my shoes, in fact, I was sort of getting foot claustrophobia! After scuffing through gravel and abrading it against cement steps, and shuffling through puddles, finally it was just messy in the treads. Now I grasp how it works when the Maasai build their houses and smear them with mud and dung. This stuff just refuses to wash away or to disintegrate. Our leader arranged for the hotel to wash all of our shoes for us overnight. I couldn’t believe when I saw my sneakers in the morning. I had intentionally brought ones that weren’t clean and new, and miraculously they ended up much cleaner than when I had started my trip.

Tanzania: Lake Manyara and Gibb's Farm

Lake Manyara! Suddenly we are in a lush jungle instead of the arid grassland. It’s hard to describe the difference in the air – less dusty, of course, but also with different subtle aromas. Subtle, that is, until we pass through a veritable dung collection. But I’m so happy to be here that even the dung smells good to me.

We stop for a picnic lunch. While it was clearly put together with great care, the meat in the sandwich was curiously bi-colored, and the yogurt containers bulged suspiciously. I’m pleased to be traveling with a group that doesn’t whine about it. We variously comment, and then move on, packing the untouched items into a couple of the lunchboxes, which our driver hands out to some locals near the edge of the park.

We are nearing the end of our Lake Manyara drive, when the driver calls out “Simba!” I was so excited I gave a little shriek (oops!) and jumped out of my seat like a jack in the box. The lions were sleeping under a tree, relatively close, yet in such dark shade you could barely see them, much less photograph them, although I tried, of course –it kind of worked to overexpose the shot. At first I saw just the one on the left, whose profiled head showed a recognizable silhouette. Then I saw the white stomach of the one on the right, and the stretching foot of the one in the center, curled around the tree trunk. Finally we realize that there are actually 2 in the middle and 2 on the right – 5 in all. An enduring memory from Lake Manyara.

The flamingos were only seen from a distance, looking like shimmering pink quartz on the shore. The hippos lumbered in and out of the water. We got a good view even from the distance. Other game included blue monkeys, olive baboons, zebras, wildebeest, vervet monkeys, warthogs, spoonbills, great cormorants, impalas, lesser flamingos, pale chanting goshawk, joves thunderbolt, grey heron. And we also enjoyed seeing some of the various trees: mahogany, fig, tamarind, and wild bush mango.

After we leave Lake Manyara, we ascend the ridge to get to the Ngorongoro region. We stop at more shops, of course, and I finally buy a pair of candlesticks and a salad knife and fork. Then on to the T shirt shop. While we are all amused by the ‘endangered feces’ shirt, we reluctantly leave it behind, realizing that we might not really wear it once we’re back home. I see a package of Maasai cloth for sale, and enjoy the irony of the washing instructions which warn not to dry it in the sun. I guess thousands of Maasai all over Africa never read the instructions, LOL ;)

We arrive at Gibbs farm in the afternoon, a veritable oasis [pictures]. The gardens are lush and colorful, and our room is spacious and comfortable, and even has a fire place, although it is not quite cool enough to use it.

I’m really looking forward to a hot shower, but can’t resist afternoon tea served on the lawn, surrounded by flowers, sitting under a jacaranda tree. The best cake and cookies we’ve had in Africa. The cookies are made with their own macadamia nuts. Yum!!!

Dinner was outstanding. They grow most of their own vegetables, and even the non-vegetable lovers among us enjoy them. Carrot and ginger salad – unusually spicy, but delicious. Arugula soup – dark and creamy, but a bit too bitter for my taste – the only non-winner of the evening. Green salad with a lovely light dressing, with just a hint of sweetness. This is the first green salad I’ve dared in Africa. The manager here specifically discussed the vegetables, and insisted that since they grow their own and manage the entire process from field to table, they can control the hygiene. I decide to believe him. We’ll see. Let me not forget the spinach – the best version of creamed spinach I’ve ever eaten – tender with just a hint of nutmeg, and creamy without being too rich or gummy. Curried vegetables for the vegetarians, and a pork dish for the carnivores. Only the ugali has no taste, but I gather it is not supposed to. Finally a marvelous lemon meringue pie for dessert --- the best I’ve had in 30 years, tangy and creamy at the same time. We all cut ourselves polite small pieces, hoping to stretch it to the 14 seated around our table, but are pleased to savor seconds when we see a second pie appear.

I’ve also treated myself to a Tangawizi twist – a drink made with ginger beer, tequila, a surprising amount of fresh ginger, lime juice, and who knows what. It is served with a salt rimmed glass and tastes like a fresh ginger margarita. Yum. It’s so good I have the same thing the next night.

After dinner my roommate reminds me that we were going to try the amarulo (remember that tree we passed?). We adjourn to the lounge with our drinks. It tastes like a combination of Harvey’s Bristol cream and frangelico – nutty, creamy, and slightly sweet. I would definitely try it again.

I give myself the treat of just lazily falling into bed without bothering to set out my clothes for the next day, since I’ve decided to skip the 6:30 birdwalk.

Today is sort of a vacation from our vacation. The day starts with the sound of buzzing bees outside our room. I’m still half asleep, and can’t figure out what the sound is at first. It’s not one or two bees, it is a convention, but they don’t bother anyone—they’re just busy sipping the nectar from the flowers. I luxuriate in a truly hot shower, and give my hair a good lathering. Then on to a delicious breakfast.

I’ve already had passion-fruit, pineapple, tree tomato juices at other camps, but this morning there is a new option: rhubarb! It was pretty good, although actually a bit too sweet. I also have my usual one-egg omelet, and a bowl of fruit and a muffin. Not only the vegetables but also the baked goods are better than usual here.

After breakfast we watch a coffee roasting demonstration, and then have a chance for a hike. ‘H’ describes it in a way that sounds excessively strenuous, so I say I want to go just half way. The lodge manager is totally accommodating, and offers to supply an extra guide so I can turn back when I want to. On hearing this option, Faye and Idelle ask if they can join, so we have a party of 4. We set off with Esau – he pronounced his name ‘Eh-SOW’, so it took a minute to get it, and then I said: ‘from the Bible?’ and he said yes.

We went slowly, to accommodate Idelle’s knee, and the adjustment to the altitude (5,700 ft). Esau attentively gave a hand at any steep parts, and pointed out footprints of dik dik, buffalo, and elephant. I politely responded to his overtures by trying out my few Swahili words, and he was delighted every time I came up with something appropriate. Whenever I tried a new word, he got so excited he gave me a high five. With that kind of encouragement, one could really improve at this language thing! We stopped frequently so Idelle could catch her breath, and he taught us to say ‘twende’ (let’s go) when we were ready to move on. We plan to try that on our next game drive if we stop for too long looking at birds.

Esau showed us a plant he called Maasai toilet paper. It has surprisingly soft leaves. Later on he took pains to identify a nettle, and tell us not to touch it. I couldn’t help but comment that it was important to not confuse it with the toilet paper plant. He really liked that. I think he doesn’t usually understand American jokes, but he definitely got that one.
We actually turn around shortly before reaching the waterfall. As it turns out, I think I could easily have made it all the way (unless the very last section is dramatically harder), but we got to a steep part and didn’t want to overtax Idelle’s knee. We were close enough to hear the waterfall. It did somehow take the gloss off of ‘H’s self-aggrandizing story about having to carry a tourist on his back for 4-1//2 hours back to the lodge (considering that a 77 year old recovering from a broken knee-cap did the return trip in just over an hour).

On the way back Esau teaches me the Jambo song. Luckily I had already downloaded it onto my ipod before the trip, so I had the sound in my head. We stride down the hill singing together, with him directing so that I’d do the proper antiphonal echo on the ‘hakuna matata’ part at the end. He takes great pains to make sure that I remember to insert ‘Gibbs Farms’ in the right place (instead of ‘Kenya yetu’).

Lunch is a buffet, but much fresher and more appetizing than we have had anywhere else. The salad has fresh avocado (from their own tree, of course), and I enjoy the pumpkin soup and the beef salad served with their own home-made chutney. I went up for seconds, but was diverted by the desserts: a perfect rhubarb crisp, a creamy rice pudding, a chocolate pudding/cake, and that’s not all, but it is all I’ll admit to trying! Definitely the best desserts we’ve had in Africa, including at the fancy Stanley Hotel in Nairobi.

After lunch, I have trouble getting details from ‘H’ about our itinerary. I’m trying to figure out how to fit in a garden tour and medicinal plant walk as well as the school trip and home visit. I finally get frustrated. When I ask him if it is possible to do the trip and also the garden walk he says “if there is time”, but that is exactly the problem, I don’t know if there is time. Finally I realize that I need a break from him regardless of the itinerary, and I decide to stay back. I gave ‘E’ the colored pencils I brought for the school, and went to the reception desk to ask about the medicinal plant tour and the garden tour, only to find that the ‘doctor’ is off today, so the medicinal plant option is out anyway. Actually, I overhear that he is actually out sick, which doesn’t bode well for the efficacy of the medicinal plants anyway.

The staff here is so accommodating. They were apologetic that it took them a whole 5 minutes to arrange someone to take me on the garden walk. I was expecting to have to make an appointment, and they basically asked a gardener to drop what he was doing to serve me. I think his name might be Lazarus, but with the pronunciation from Swahili, I’m not sure. I have a wonderful time with him. He is friendly, and is amazed that I know many of the vegetables. He started quizzing me on each one – ‘do you know what this is?’ and was truly thrilled every time he could show me something new. At one point I thought he was showing me something quite unusual when he pointed out ‘rose berries’ but he finally explained it was like a strawberry and all of a sudden I got it – raspberry!

He was excited if I could answer anything in Swahili. He stopped at one point to take a brief phone call, and profusely apologized. When I answered ‘hakuna matata’ he gripped my hand with fervor, and forgot to let it go. And his ecstasy knew no bounds when I got the verb right when he asked where I was from. Unatoka wapi? Ninatoka New York! But then I over-reached myself by trying to echo back ‘two children’ in Swahili when he told me about his family. I did ok saying I had no children, but didn’t get the agreement prefixes right when I tried to say two children. He seemed eager to explain, but I’m not sure I’ve got it – I think it turns to watoto wili. I was trying to say mtoto mbili. ( Swahili has this really complex grammar, which I was basically able to ignore, but it is much more highly inflected even than Latin. In preparing for my trip, I had bought an introductory Swahili book and tape, of which I reviewed the first chapter before I gave up and settled for the “In flight Swahili” CD, which was much more my speed, since it just teaches you a few simple things to say right away. )

And now I’m sitting on a lounge chair in the garden writing my journal, and listening to the various birds. I’m looking forward to afternoon tea. This break is great. Gibbs farm is a wonderful place, and I’ve truly enjoyed my day of respite. The gardens are lush and green, with colorful flowers and abundant birds. It feels like a different planet compared to the dusty roads.

Although I’ve appreciated NOT thinking about work, or being in touch with anyone from home, I decide to send one group email to my friends and relatives, just so they know that I’m safe and happy. I assumed the computer would be in an office, or something, but actually it is a laptop with a wireless connection, so they ask me where I want to use it, and I end up in the garden, typing while overlooking the coffee plantation, and listening to the birds. It all feels sort of unreal. Africa is a different world from being at home, but Gibbs farm is yet a different world from everything else we’ve seen, sort of like a really good dream.

Today, tea includes fresh peanut butter cookies and pound cake. It appears as if by magic. Again, we eat in the garden, serenaded by birds. We see a red bird with a long, long tail. We are interrupted by a shower, so I grab our tea tray and run up to the patio which has large sun umbrellas which will also work as rain shields. The staff is busy running around and rescuing all the seat cushions, and are almost amazed that I figured out how to carry the little tea tray all by myself. ;)

After the tea, you wouldn’t think that I would have an appetite for dinner, but you would be wrong, because dinner is again delicious. The waiters have an unusual and appealing serving style. Each waiter carries two large bowls of food, and offers you each bowl in turn, while holding the bowl in the opposite hand up at head height. It is sort of a combination of a dance and lifting weights. Again, each dish is excellent.

All night long we hear rain pounding on the roof, interspersed with the sound of animals running back and forth. It sounds like a convention overhead. Running footsteps, growls, squeals, and chatters. Later we are told that it was probably bushbabies on the roof (we had seen one near the reception desk).

Tanzania: Tarangire

We leave Amboseli and drive to the border between Kenya and Tanzania. In the immigration office I see a funny sign on the wall: “No man can serve two masters at ago”. I think it was intended to be a Bible verse that was quoted in British English and then written down phonetically.

We say goodbye to our drivers, and switch vehicles. As usual, everything works like clockwork. The new drivers and vehicles are waiting for us, and the luggage is transferred without our having to lift a finger (except for our carry-ons). Finally the road is blacktop, but that is almost worse, since we go a lot faster and thus the bumps are spine-cracking. By the time we disembark near Arusha I’m nearly crippled (which is a little embarrassing, considering that I’m almost the youngest on the trip). Meanwhile, our oldest traveler who is 89 shows off the fact that she can touch her toes. When my travel mates see what bad shape I’m in, they graciously switch places so I’m no longer in the back, which has the worst jolts. Other than that, the new vehicles are impressive. Instead of the minivans we had in Kenya, these are stretch land rovers with a pop top. The vehicles feel sturdy and reliable, and there is a decent amount of room, since it is arranged that we each have a window seat.

We spend some time in Arusha so as to delay our arrival in Tarangire until the tse tse flies die down. We are a little intimidated to hear that they can bite through cloth, and aren’t really repelled by DEET.

We finally arrive at Tarangire. The hotel lounge is open to the outside, with a beautiful vista. We’re eager to see our tents, complete with sink, shower, and toilet. Dinner is good, but not nearly as good as the Amboseli Serena. This camp is not fenced, so we get an escort from dinner back to our tent. The tents have electric light until 11pm, but are very dim even with the light on. We go to sleep early, and I sleep like a log.

Morning comes at 5:13 when I hear a cacophony of birds. I doze for a while, but get up to watch the sunrise. There doesn’t seem to be any hot water yet, so I’m not going to take a shower. In spite of the fact that I’m loving my Africa trip, a cold shower is a little too close to roughing it for me to enjoy it. ;) At 6:15 I get my gentle wake-up call – a visit from a room steward carrying a pot of hot chocolate. Heaven! I sit in front of the tent sipping hot chocolate, listening to the birds, and taking occasional pictures of the sunrise.

Breakfast is our least inspired meal so far, but the view from the lounge and front patio is marvelous, overlooking the Tarangire river, and with animals roaming within sight. During our stay here, we see both dik diks and elephants within a stone’s throw of the tent. At night we hear birds and jackals, but are a little disappointed to not hear anything larger.

The morning game drive starts at 8. We are told that the animals here are active a bit later. Who knows? We’ve heard so much buildup about the tse tse flies, but are blessed with a cloudy day, and literally only see one fly, which ‘H’ kills to show us. People were so afraid they were blasting the whole land cruiser with bug spray – not the kind you use on your body, but the kind you blast a room with and then leave the area. I’m afraid we will be poisoned so I stand up so my head sticks out the hatch and I get some fresh air.

On the drive we see some dwarf mongoose, white backed vulture, ostrich, red billed weavers, yellow necked spurfowl, red billed quelea nests, yellow collared lovebirds, dik dik, white headed buffalo weaver, hamerkop nests, spotted hyena, lilac breasted roller (a beautiful bird even to those of us who are not particularly bird watchers), impala, zebra, vervet monkies, elephants, crested francolin, warthog, magpie shrike, hadada ibis, Maasai giraffe, cape buffalo, waterbuck, white bellied bustard, ground hornbill, tawny eagles, and of course baobab trees (I know they are not game, but for a newcomer they are an indelible part of seeing Africa).

I thought breakfast was our least inspired meal, but lunch surpasses it in mediocrity. But it is edible.

The best animal viewing from the lodge is actually in the early afternoon, when the wildebeest form a parade, crossing the Tarangire river and pacing north to better grazing land. The parade stretches on and on as far as the eye can see, with only small gaps, sometimes interspersed with zebras.

The afternoon game drive is a little disappointing – we see lots of the common animals, but nothing new, and spend an inordinate amount of time in one place just looking at birds. I wouldn’t be so antsy, except I really want to see some cats. We see osprey, violet wood hoopoe, waterbuck, wildebeest, zebra, elephants, white browed coucal (or something like that!), rufous tailed weavers.

If I thought lunch was disappointing, dinner was worse. Maybe it wasn’t really that bad, but it was truly cold. I wasn’t too happy about the safety of food that had been sitting on a buffet so long it was totally cold, so I just picked at mine. I would have been happier with a hot plate of ugali and goat stew.

After dinner I ask where the ladies room is. I didn’t realize that I need to specifically say ‘toilet’ , and so they don’t understand me. I finally attempt to ask in Swahili and comprehension dawns. You see, my plan of learning 10 words works! This is my theory about learning languages when traveling. It is too intimidating to think of actually learning the language, so most people don’t bother to learn anything. But I set myself a goal to learn 10 words (and usually end up learning a bit more once I get interested). It’s amazing how much you can communicate with Hello, Goodby, Please, Thank You, Yes, No, Where is…, and maybe a few other chosen phrases.

We hang around the bar waiting for our escorts to our tents, but no one appears. We finally ask at the reception desk and they seem bewildered. Finally the woman at the desk picks up a flashlight and says “come”. We feel a bit stupid – we’re both taller than she is, and she clearly does not have a weapon, so we feel as if a little girl is bravely leading us through the dark.

I skip a shower again, since the water never seems to get hot (although some people in the other tents say theirs was warm). I’m glad I brought some damp wipes, which will have to do, for now. We leave the tent flaps open for the full experience, and hear some more animals in the night – probably jackals.

The next morning I rise early enough to watch the sunrise, sitting on the front porch of the tent drinking my hot chocolate. Some of my traveling companions never got their wake-up call, or got it at the wrong time, but mine is just right, and the hot chocolate is a treat.

Leaving Tarangire we see a yellow collared love bird, elephants, wildebeest, guineafowl, warthogs, white bellied go away bird, zebras, and an amarula tree, which gives rise to a conversation about the liqueur, which we enjoy later in the trip!

Overall impression of Tarangire:

The food was cold, the showers too,
But boy oh boy, look at the view.

Kenya: Amboseli

In the shower this morning, I realize that I need to do a bit of attitude adjustment about those millipedes, or I’m at risk of turning into a whiner. After all, they aren’t hurting anything. I decide to channel my energy into writing a rhyme a la Dr Seuss.

BLACK MILLIPEDE:
I do not want you on the floor.
I do not want you by the door.
I do not want you by my bed,
Especially not by my head!
I do not want you on the ceiling
(It gives a creepy crawling feeling)
I do not want you on the wall,
I do not want you here at all!

I was fortunate that my roommate didn’t mind rising early, so I got to sleep ‘late’ until 5:45 – no wonder I was hallucinating about millipedes in the shower! The early start was so we could go on a morning game drive. Within the first few minutes we see wildebeest, common waterbuck, zebras and warthogs. We enjoy learning the difference between the common and defassa waterbuck. I’m amazed at the variety of animals that are in view at one time: 4 lions, a herd of zebra and wildebeest, a few elephants, an ostrich in the distance, and a crowned plover.

With that scene as a backdrop, we notice off on the side a lone Thompson gazelle, oblivious to a solitary lion nearby. The lion approaches. We are silently urging the gazelle away, but he actually moves nearer to the lion. “Go away!” we want to shout, although no one speaks out loud. We are aware that we are only observers, and are not intended to be participants in this drama. Suddenly the gazelle notices the lion, and bounds away. The lion gives chase. They arc back around, and we expect a kill. The lion gains on the gazelle--the handwriting is on the wall. Some of us are excited and expectant, and others are resigned. Suddenly the gazelle goes into hyperdrive and escapes effortlessly, outdistancing the lion within seconds. It reminds me of something from Star Wars. The show is over. We don’t understand what we’ve just seen. Stephen explains that the lion was slow, and seemed to be limping a little (not that I noticed), which enabled the gazelle to outdistance it. But even if the lion was slow, I don’t understand how the gazelle put on that sudden burst of speed.

Then we watch a herd of elephants as they amble across the road. 5 adults and 3 children. It’s fun watching animals so large, because the relative ages are so apparent. A one year old is much smaller than a 5 year old. We also notice a tawny eagle, a vulture, and Maasai giraffe – at Sweetwaters we were seeing reticulated giraffe instead. I can’t tell them apart– I know the markings are different, but I just don’t ‘see’ it yet. Also warthogs, Thompson’s gazelles, guinea hens, Eland, black backed jackal, a pregnant wildebeest, and an olive baboon.

We also visit a Maasai village. We are greeted by Wilson, the chief’s son. Our group tries to greet him with Jambo, until he explains that we should say Sopa/epa in Maasai. We are surprised to see him wearing a blue and red plaid, instead of red.

Then they do a traditional welcome dance, the men on one side, the women on the other. They invite us to dance with them, and I see where pogo dancing comes from. I bet that adolescent Americans think they invented it, but the Maasai are much better at it. The men jump higher and higher to show off their strength. Then they include us in a traditional prayer. We are asked to crouch, bow our heads, and respond ‘nai’ during the prayer. I’m praying my own prayer under my breath, and wishing I knew what we were assenting to, but all is revealed shortly. “That was a traditional Maasai prayer”, Wilson explains. “We are Catholic. We asked a blessing for your journey.” I know these visits are somewhat staged, but I was still touched.

Then we see hunks of goat roasting on a tripod of branches over a fire, and a pot of blood. One in our group asks about the different colors we see them wearing – lots of blue or black rather than purely red. He explains that they are wearing the true Maasai color, and that the people we see elsewhere wearing red are probably Kikuyu who are dressing up to look like Maasai, and don’t know how to do it properly. Ironically, the Masi Mara Maasai (who wear red), feel that these Maasai have sold out to civilization, and are not authentic.

They offer us some of the roasted goat, and most of us try it, but not me. I’ve been eating the food at the lodges (except for the lettuce and fresh greens), but some of the meat looks not cooked well, and I’m not sure about the cleanliness of the guy’s hands who is cutting it, or the knife for that matter (even though we saw them rinse from some dubious containers of water). After all, at home I don’t even use the same spatula for cooked and raw hamburgers. The others try it, and seem to enjoy it. And I don’t hear about anyone getting sick afterwards, so I guess it was ok after all. Maybe next time I’ll try it. [Note to self – did you notice how casually I said ‘next time’, as if I’m already thinking of going again?]

The village has 4 families, with 252 people. So far we’ve actually been outside of the village proper. Now we enter the village and see another welcome dance. The guys pogo – the higher they jump the more appealing they are to the women. The chief’s son says he has been married 3 days. He shows us his wife. She is beautiful, but does not look as happy as he does. We find out later that this village still practices genital mutilation, so we can’t help but wonder if this is part of her unhappiness.

Wilson speaks excellent English. We ask where he learned it, and it turns out that he went to college in Tanzania. But he made it clear that his place is here, home with his tribe. Wilson explains some traditional medicines, including the one for men with many wives. As he speaks, I try photographing the tall man. For some reason I’m having trouble focusing – I’m not sure if it is just too backlit or what. The man is very patient and waits for me, posing until I get it. Finally a Maasai teen politely taps me on the elbow and suggests “lens cap”. Was I humiliated!

Then they show us how they start fire, first spinning a stick, then adding dried grass when it smokes, then twigs. I’ve seen laborious Boy Scout attempts, but this is amazing. We can’t believe how fast the whole process was. The fire is made every morning, and then shared house to house. Wilson is curious at what I am writing in my journal, and asks to see my notebook, and reads aloud: “They show us how they start fire.”

After the fire, we watch them playing mancala. Today they are gambling for goats. I notice again that it is just the men who play. The observers are very aware that we want to watch, and duck or fade away so we have a good view, but the players are quite serious. They don’t want to risk their goats! The women on the other hand are responsible for building the huts – they are framed with acacia wood and cisle, and smeared with cow dung, which ends up waterproof, and is also termite proof.

After the tour of the village, we ‘shop’ at their open air market, with their wares spread on clothes on the ground. It is uncomfortable how they do it – we get separate escorts who take us from cloth to cloth – slowly – as the merchants reach out and wave items at us, trying to catch our attention. Then they split us up and take us out back to pay. I’m so uncomfortable I pay the asking price instead of bargaining. I think it’s probably about 3 times what the actual value should have been. At first I’m pleased to simply consider it a donation to support the village, but when I find later that they are still practicing the genital mutilation I wish I had bought at the Maasai school instead, even though I didn’t like their necklaces as much.

Back at the lodge again, we see more vervet monkeys, of course. I had worried that we would be pestered by mosquitoes here, given our rude buggy welcome, but they aren’t a big deal. Yesterday, we must have arrived just at the worst time, at dusk, and they disappear during the day. We have a good lunch (in a curiously dark dining room), and then have an afternoon game drive.

The afternoon game drive is our least interesting so far. We see the top half of a hippo, looking like a beached whale, and lots of birds. That was part of the problem – once ‘E’ started observing birds, we actually sat in one spot for 45 minutes while she tried to identify each one. For some reason, the guide didn’t have binoculars that day, so each bird had to be discussed at great length. The rest of us got bored. In any event, we saw African fish eagle, blacksmith plovers, Egyptian geese, white pelicans, white necked cormorant, African jacana, sacred ibis, glossy ibis, cattle egret, spur winged plover, little egret, crowned crane, kori bustard. The Kori bustard engendered one of the running jokes of the trip. For some reason, in an African accent it sounds like bastard. Although we didn’t see a lot of animals, we got a special treat at the end of the drive, when we saw a rainbow.

Tonight they served us a 7 course bush dinner. It was fun eating outside, but with full amenities such a cloth tablecloths. After dinner we were treated to a Maasai dance. One of the Maasai came over beforehand, clapped his hand on my shoulder, and announced that he wanted to marry me, and this was a wedding or courtship dance. I replied by asking him how many cows he would give, and he said 10. I said it wasn’t enough.

We knew from our morning Maasai visit that the pogo dancing was intended to impress. This time it was actually thrilling, because they each jumped in front of me in turn, higher and higher, then ran forward lunging at me and yelling. As the youngest female in our group, I was clearly being courted. It was rather startling, but all in good fun.

As I lie in bed writing this, I can hear the frogs chirping. They sound like persistent birds.

In the morning we again have those strange black millipedes in the room, on the walls, ceiling and the floor. I chant my Dr Seuss rhyme as I get dressed. They don’t seem to be harmful, but it is weird. All in all, I'm getting fewer bug bites than in the Adirondacks.