Onto Edinbourgh and the Festival Fringe

We are now in Edinbourgh and the Festival Fringe. The Fringe started as a modest festival in 1947, with eight different venues. Or maybe it was just eight performances. Now there are hundreds of venues and over 3000 different performances. What was originally the Fringe of the International Festival, has over time become the main event. I was here in 1970, between my two years of college in Paris. I came by myself. I don't remember much of it at all, except that I stayed at a b&b with a couple. The man was a butcher. The breakfasts were large and featured a lot of meat. I thought at the time it was due to his being a butcher. But in retrospect it was a typical Scottish breakfast, similar to the ones on this trip. It seems like a dream, or a different lifetime. 

  Yesterday we watched one of the many street performers, a man who played on five gallon plastic bins, as well as on damaged cybals, and "his mother's pots." He went around the audience playing on fences and various things in the environment. I held out my walking poles and he played on those. It reminded me of the only performance I remember from my visit here 55 years ago. That was a group called Stomp. I have never figured out if it is the same group that has become famous and played around the world. I thought it must be, but never saw a reference to the Fringe on their info. I'll have to check again with better resources now. I told the drummer. He was American but apparently travels the world making his living as a street performer. All the street performers made the same speech, saying this is their job and livelihood, and asking for donations if you liked the performance. They suggest 5 lbs, 10 if you are a family, and that they'd appreciate 20. We gave each one we saw 10. I asked the drummer where in the States he was from. He grew up in Queens. I told him that I grew up in the Bronx. 

We saw a number of street performers over the days. There were singers, jugglers, fire eaters, other kinds of performers. I would guess most of them were from Britain, but can't say for sure. The first one we saw was an overweight man with a huge belly. He was very funny, Loring's favorite and maybe mine too. He had quite the repartee.  He, and all the performers, recruited "volunteers" from the audience. He started with asking a man to hold the end of a rope stretched tight. He eventually got up to 8 men and it still wasn't clear if he was going to balance or do anything on it.  Then he stripped down to a thong, making some lewd jokes while he sat on the rope. The Scottish sense of what is family friendly is obviously a little more lenient than ours. He also had a tennis racket, without strings, around his neck.  Eventually he did balance on the rope, and finally pulled the racket down over his shoulders, torso, and legs, stepping out of it while still on the rope. It was impressive but the best part was his ongoing gags throughout the show.  My other favorite was the last one we saw, yesterday. She was just setting up as we arrived. Her name was Steph. Not sure where she was from. There were several facets to her act. She had two members of the audience put her in a straightjacket and chains, and escaped within two minutes. She also had a puppet, and was a  ventriloquest. She put masks on the same two volunteers, and then, throwing her voice again, had them sing and act silly, pumping the mouths on the masks open and closed with hoses attached to the masks.  I had never seen a ventriloquist do anything like that. It was very clever and funny. 

In all, we went to about ten paid performances over the five days. it's difficult to choose because there are a zillion choices. Twice we went to shows based on someone at home's recommendation, and both were terrific. We first saw a one woman show called the Golden Hour. That was recommended by a friend of our friend Yvonne, who was in Edinbourgh and had seen it. Before the show a woman asked me how we'd heard about it, and I told her it was via a friend at home who'd heard about it from a friend at the Festival. She was impressed that word of mouth had traveled so far. Turns out it was the performer herself, not an usher as I'd thought. She was just great. It was about an educational theory in Scotland to detract free "golden"  time from kids who had misbehaved or not done well, at the end of each week. It's an actual theory, created by a woman who discussed it on a video that was part of the show. The actor had experienced it herself in school,as had many in the audience. She had very briefly been a teaching assistant who sympathized with a kid who was kind of an outsider. She got fired after a short time at the school, and now works bringing  different programs for children to schools(and doing a one person show, at least at the Fringe, and hopefully at other times as well. ) 

The other recommended show was also one-woman show, recommended by our sister-in-law Jill, who has heard the performer on a podcast they listen to. Her name is Ria Lina. She is a British actor of Filipino heritage, who has an American accent. (she lived in the US for some time.) She has written and performed several shows, this being the latest one. She talked about many things, including her heritage as an Asian woman, her marriage, children, and divorce. and the fact that she and her ex husband still live together, and how that works. 

The other shows I picked mostly by reading descriptions and reviews. The first night, when we had just arrived, we went to a cabaret. We came in a bit late and took the last two seats. They had stopped collecting money.  It was basically a burlesque show, hosted by a man who was not very funny. There were about five acts. All except one were drag queens who stripped down to tassels and not much else. The other was a thin young woman. One thing - I assumed they were all men, they were all pretty large and had masculine looking faces. But, they all had female breasts!  Loring thought they were all women, because of that.  I was puzzled; they looked pretty real, maybe had had top surgery to get them?  I definitely do not understand the intricacies of drag. And in retrospect,  the one attractive young  woman may actually have been a man or trans man or non binary per w2son.  In any case, we both thought the show was dreadful!  Luckily, we hadn't paid anything for it.

It fascinates me how crucial it is in our society to identify people by gender, from the time a baby is born. We don't even have gender free language to use. Maybe the use of the word "they" as a singular form will eventually take hold in the general population but I doubt I will ever get comfortable  using it. I wish there could be another new pronoun that didn't sound weird to  older ears like mine. 

For the other shows, I leaned toward choosing musicals. The first we chose was  play, called How to Win Against History,  based on a true story of a marquis in the 19th century who was gay, and chose to live his own life. The acting was great and the direction tight, with not a false moment. I have to look into the true story. 

Then, another musical called Jaffa Cakes. I'd read a review from earlier in the festival. There are many many people reviewing various shows, newspaper reviewers from Scotland and abroad, and various individuals. You can only take one reviewer's opinions so far, since so much is a matter of individual taste.  Speaking of taste, Jaffa Cakes was great. It is also based on a true story, a court case in the 1990's to determine if the popular Jaffa Cakes are a cake or a biscuit. A biscuit in Britain is what we call a cookie. The case mattered because biscuits are taxed and cakes are not. It's complicated. The show was very clever, with five actors playing multiple parts. People we talked to were surprised that we Americans weren't familiar with Jaffa Cakes. Apparently everyone in Scotland, and probably all of Great Britain, grows up with them. Of course, on the way back from the play to our apartment we had to stop to buy a package of Jaffa Cakes. I quite like them, Loring not so much. They have a slightly spongy base, an orange flavored center, and a chocolate top. I ate most of the package but still have a few in my backpack. They may not make it back to the US. 

The show called Luigi caught my attention for two reasons: it had sold out audiences in SF, where it originated, and because the subject was three criminals who all had been in the same prison together, Diddy, Sam Bankman Fried, whose mother I'd gone to high school with, and Luigi Mangione, who shot and killed the health care CEO on the street in Manhattan. The play was controversial because some thought it gloried Luigi, the main subject of the play. The actors were four comedians who'd written the show together. They denied that they'd glorified him, ony wanted people to think about the fact that so many have. In any case, the show, in both of our opinions, was  terrible. Too bad, because the concept was fascinating. But the script, and the acting too, was sophomoric.  

We attended one show that was not part of the Fringe, but part of the original International Festival, which over the years has been superceded by the Fringe. That play is called Faustus in Africa. It's not a new play, it's over 30 years old, created and performed by the Handspring Puppet Theatre of South Africa. It had been highly reviewed. I had seen, over a decade ago, their much heralded play WarHorse, also performed by large puppets, at Lincoln Center in New York. This show was at the Lyceum Theater, a beautiful large theatre a little outside of the central Fringe, but still in walking distance from our apartment. The tickets were much more expensive than the Fringe shows, which are all an hour an all cost about $20. They were also hard to get. I got what I believe was the very last ticket for the last performance, before we left home. Our hope was that more tickets would be available close to the day of the performance. And indeed, a few were, including, amazingly, the one next to mine! So we were both able to go. Unfortunately, both of us were kind of bored by the play, and we both dozed off. The puppets themselves are very impressive, and it's wonderful to watch them with the puppeteers in view. But the play was very dry, we both thought. And the theatre was very warm, which didn't help. All the venues were too warm, and none have air conditioning. Scotland is almost never this warm, and so they aren't prepared for the heat. It was beautiful weather all the time we were there, but everyone local commented on how unusual it was. 

The Fringe venues vary in size and are in all kinds of spots. Some hold only about thirty, others are much larger. For many, you have to go through a bar or restaurant and up a flight or stairs, or several. The shows are booked back to back so one audience has to exit for the next to enter, only about 10 minutes before the show. And the actors break down the sets themselves, immediately after they take their bows. 

Yesterday morning was the only day we saw three shows. We are sure that many people do much more, but this worked out well for us. In between shows, we walked around, ate at retaurants or grabbed a pasty or croissant on the street, went home and took a nap, etc. 

  We started the day yesterday before noon with Truman, a one-man show depicting Truman Capote. The actor was great. A few days earlier someone had approached me at one of the beer gardens with a flyer for the show. I told him we already had tickets. I'm not sure he believed me. He said, "Oh ya do, do ya." In retrospect I think it was the actor himself. It was a small older man, unlike the majority of the flyer hander outers who are young. In any case, the actor was great. He greatly portrayed what I remember of Capote. I also am sure that I understood a lot of the references that nobody else in the audience did, like the Black and White Ball he created in New York in the 60s. (He did explain the references.)  It was the combination of the New York setting and the time period, which much of the audience didn't live through. But many seemed to know at least who he was. 

A couple of hours later, after a walk around town, we attended the 360 All Stars, in a large stadium-like theatre, the largest venue we'd attended other than to see Faustus at the Lyceum. It was a hip hop performance, consisting of two djs, one a drummer and the other a keyboardist, each up on a platform above the stage.  They were both very good.  The woman was terrific.  She came down from the platform at a couple of points to rap and dance with the others. think she was from the US. The drummer was the creator and was, I believe, Scottish. 

The other performers were four men, the all star champions of various competiions, each with his own specialty. They each performed individually and then together. One was a bicyclist, one did a hoop performance that was mesmerizing and graceful, one was a basketball artist who did various things including juggling, with four of them. And one was a floor dancer, who was from New York. The others were from different countries, one I think from the Netherlands, one from Hungary, and I believe one was Scottish. We found out afterwards there had been a fifth performer who had been injured in an earlier show. The rest of them had to rechoreograph and rehearse it to perform without him.The audience for this show was quite different from the others we attended, large and with many kids attending.. 

Our last show, yesterday night, was called Falling in Love with Mr. Dellormand. It was another I'd read positive reviews of. It was a campy musical with five performers. We'd gotten over our hesitation about sitting in the front row, which I'd still not do in a comedy or interractive show. In the small theatre, we were incredibly close to the actors. I don't think I 've ever sat nearly that close to performers. The show was described as a gothic musical. It was five actors, Mr. Dellormond being the owner of an isolated inn who invites the others to a party. The premise is that no one can help falling in love with Mr. Dellormond. It turns out that he is the Angel of Death, who kills all his victims with a kiss. The whole thing is very silly and campy, and all the characters are totally overdrawn. And they are all very good singers. One additional thing, the musical accompaniment is by a musician playing a theremin. an unusual instrument that is played without touching it. It has an appropriately eerie sound, and is played with gestures above it, which melds wonderfully with the rest of the performance. 

The Festival was a great experience, despite the streets being crowded wherever we went. We knew they would be, and that's just a part of the event. And although the restaurants were also crowded, we never had a real problem finding a place, usually outdoors, where we wanted to be. There were a few times in the evening that places said they were finished serving food when we got there at about eight pm. which surprised us at a time when the streets were still crowded.  But we always found someplace we liked after a couple of tries. We tried to eat Scottish foods as much as possible. My favorite may have been Cullen Skink, a soup with smoked haddock, potatoes, leeks, and cream. Richer than I'd eat at home, but I'm going to try to make a less rich version. Loring liked the baked meat pies, and had bangers and mash, traditional sausage and mashed potatoes.  Many restaurants had delicous sides of vegetables of various sides. A couple of nights we just did that, for a tapas-like meal. We both tried the traditional haggis, which seems to be on every menu. It tastes ok but I couldn't get over the fact that it's all innards ground up, although if I didn't know it I am sure I would have liked it. They do make a vegetarian version with lentils, but we didn't try it. We tried fish and chips, because it seemed we ought to, not expecting much. But it was delicious, with a light batter resembling tempura. If we were there longer, I would have had it again. We didn't have black pudding or sausage, which is made from blood. Although I had had it many years ago and thought it was delicious when I didn't know what it was. 

Last night we had our last meal at an outdoor cafe in the same square we'd eaten mussels at a different restaurant a few nights before. When we sat down we found out that the kitchen was closing but if we ordered right away they could do it. And they did. I had a fish stew that was described as Irish, but was similar to the traditional Scottish soup I'd had before. The couple next to us, who were Scottish, started talking to us and we chatted for quite a while. I'm not sure where they lived but they were camping in a tent outside  town, for a week, and taking a bus in each day. They were very friendly, and we could understand much of what they said! Some people have accents so thick that it isn't easy for us to understand. 

We're now on the plane home, about halfway there, and I think I've come to the end of this saga. Hopefully nothing eventful will happen before we get there. 

It's been a great trip, to all three locations. And even if we didn't get to see much of the countryside without driving, I am perfectly happy to have visited the town of Pitclochry and the two cities. I expect many of the other locations, like Loch Ness and Loch Lomond, and the Harry Potter and Outlander locations, are touristed more than we prefer. 

So I'll end here unless anything worth reporting on happens in the next couple of hours. It will be about 2pm when we arrive home, but 7pm on Scotland time. 

I hope you've enjoyed reading this. I write primarily for my own benefit. It's amazing how much I forget without rereading about it myself! But I am always happy when I know that others have read and enjoyed reading about our travelling adventures.

Next chapter, Glascow continued

Sitting on our delightful balcony at the Native Glascow. Native is apparently a large organization with many properties in Greatl Britain.  Ours is a former shipping building, of the Anchor Company, that was converted to a hotel at some point. It's in a great central location, and the apartment is wonderful. 

This will be our fourth of five nights here. Each day we've chosen one or a couple of destinations. The first day we visited the Hunterian Museum. All kinds of art plus the recreated MacIntosh house. The museum itself is free, but the Macintosh House, though connected, has a 10 lb. fee, We decided to save that for another day, and plan to go there tomorrow. It must be privately funded, whereas the museum is part of the national museums. MacIntosh was an architect and artist who has been described as the Scottish Frank Lloyd Wright. There is defintinitely a similarity in their aesthetics. Lots of architectural angles, stained glass, although I doubt MacIntosh, or even Scots in general would be pleased to have him compared that way. His wife, Margaret MacDonald, was also an artist and architect, and they often worked together. But it seems that she doesn't get quite the recognition that he does. Sound familiar? 

I'll know more, and write more about them in a subsequent post. 

 The museums are on the campus of Glasgow University, and it was interesting to wander through the campus on our walk.  Graduation must be later in the year here than at home, because there were several people in gowns posing for pictures, and  I saw ads for graduation parties at the restaurant downstairs here at our hotel.

Today we visited the Tenement Museum. Fascinating. It is the preserved residence of Agnes Toward, a  woman who lived there in the early 20th century, first with her mother, and then on her own after her mother's death, until 1965. She lived another 10 years, hosptitalized, until her death in the 1970s.  She bequeathed two chairs to a friend from her church. The house remained unoccupied until the 1980s, when it was scheduled to be demolished. The 

Moving on on our Scottish sojourn

We are now in Edinbourgh, the last stop on our Scottish sojourn. When people ask me if I've been here before, I answer with a qualified yes. I have been, but it was 55 years ago, then, like now, for the Fringe. My answer is qualified because it hardly seems real, my memory of being here. If feels more like a dream or something from another lifetime. Which in a way, I guess it is. The Fringe began as an adjunct to the International Festival. But over time it has evolved into a much larger event, and the original International festival now sits in its shadow. There are thousands of events, some for the entire three plus weeks of the Fringe, some just for a single performance or several. And anyone who wants to perform can, if they can find a venue. I will write much more about the Fringe, but first let me take you back to Glasgow, where we spent the previous five days after our first stop in Pitlcochry. I oringally had the idea to stay in Glasgow, rather than Edinbourgh, because the lodging here is so expensive during the festival. And it's only a 45 minute train ride. As it turns out the accomodations in Glasgow, at least the ones we found, were as expensive as here in Edinbourgh. But I am glad we went there, and now are staying here. Both have been wonderful experiences. Our Glasgow stay was at the Native, which is part of a group of accommodations across Great Britain. I am not sure if they are all in restored buildings but ours was, in what was the old Headquarters of the Anchor Shipping Company. Not much remains of the original interior of the building, save for a beautiful fireplace in one of the first floor rooms, and the original safe in one of the others. And our room, one of the penthouse suites, was actually built upon the top of the original building only eight years ago. We had a corner room with large windows, and a balcony, with a great view of the city. It seems that there are numerous buildings where modern additions have been built atop Victorian era buildings. Our location was very central, something we had looked for when choosing accomodations. We didn't rent a car, so wanted to be near sites of interest and also walking distance from the train stations, in which we succeeded quite well in both Glasgow and here in Edinbourgh. The architecture in Glasgow is quite varied, even in the center of the city. It's a mix of many Victorian buildings, some maintained or renovated, some derelict. Mixed with modern construction of different decades. In many places the contrast of new and old side by side is striking. A man stopped by us as I was taking a picture of an ancient looking steeple and a tall crane. I think he originally thought we might need directions but then shared his own enthusiasm for architecture. He was from Glasgow but no longer lived there, and said he appreciate the architecture much more now. He gave us a few areas and squares to check out. We visited several museums in Glasgow, including two on the campus of the University, One was the Hunterian, named for its founder, Mr. Hunter. The other was Kelvingrove. In the same building as the Huntarian was a recreation of the Glasgow apartment of famed architect and artist Charles Rennie MacIntosh, Glasgow's pride. The space is recreated because the University tore down the original building some years ago to make room for new iveconstruction. So the interior is all the work and furnishings of MacIntosh and his wife, Margaret MacDonald. She was an artist in her own right and they worked together. But she, as seems often the case is given shorter shrift in the annals of art history. An interesting fact, Macintosh and his friend Frasier (I think) married two sisters, Margaret and Frances MacDonald, all of whom were artists and did some work together. I wonder how common it was at the time for women to keep their unmarried names. The most famous work at the Kelvingrove is the Dali portrait of Christ on the cross. It is certainly different from any depiction of Christ you've ever seen, as one might expect of Dali. The view is from above, looking down at Christ. It was controversal at first, seen by some as sacreligious. Don't know if anyone feels that way anymore. I liked it, it felt like Christ was being lifted from above, rather than being martyred. There is an organ recital every afternoon at the Kelvingrove which we stayed for. It was great to watch the organist, as well as video images of his feet and foot pedals, and close up of the multiple keyboards and knobs. I loved the combination of the folks like us sitting and listening, with people coming and going through the museum lobby. A few small kids responded to the music as they walked. Most especially were two young girls, probably sisters, dancing delighting, and followed by whom I assume was their mother, dancing too, although a bit more sedately than the children. Most interesting to me was the Tenement Museum. Although there is a museum with the same name in New York, this is a little different. First of all, tenement doesn't have the negative connotation here in Scotland, but just refers to an apartment building. The New York Museum is one of my favorites, and I think this one in Glasgow is now another. It is a preserved dwelling rather than a recreated one. The woman who lived here for many years, Agnes Forward, lived here first with her mother, after her father and sisters had all died when she was young. After her mother's death she continued to live in the apartment until elderly, when she became sick and spend her last 10 years in a hospital. She had lived there from the late nineteenth century until 1965. She preserved nearly everything, from theatre tickets to tins of mustard. So the home is an apartment frozen in time with much documentation of her life and the times. Tour guides are young volunteers who point out things like the jam jar with literally preserved preserves. Ms. Forward only brought in electricy near the end of her life, in 1960. She could have afforded it, but thought it wasn't necessary. So the house is illluminated with actual gas lights and facsimiles of gas lighting. The house was slated to be torn down, but a woman, whose uncle had been gifted two of Agnes' chairs, saw the apartment when she and her uncle went to retrieve the chairs. She subsequently bought the apartment and lived there for several years herself, protecting its contents, before turning it over to a trust to preserve it as the museum it is today. The home had a full bedroom as well as two closet beds, which were common at the time, built into niches in the wall. Apparently, Forward and her mother slept in the same closet bed and rented out the bedroom to a lodger. I didn't read how Forward supported herself in the years after her mother's death The mother had been a seamstress. But she seemed to live comfortably, attending theatre performances and traveling. My grandmother was also a seamstress after my grandfather died young, and in virtually the same time period. The museum occupies the first two floors of the building. The last two floors were marked private. I first assumed they were offices. Actually, they are privately owned and lived in. I supposed they are a bit more modern than Ms. Forward's preserved apartment. There is a Gaudi designed apartment building in Barcelona that is also a house museum but also retains a private apartment, under slightly different circumstances. There, heirs of the original owners were allowed to live there until no heir was left or wanted to. I wrote about it a couple of years ago. Imagine living in a building that is also a museum. One more museum, that we visited on our last day, was the modern art museum. It was actually just around the corner from our apartment, but I had somehow missed it in my scouting out. I think that was because there was another art museum that was temporarily closed.The museum's elevator was out of order, which they emphasized on their website as well as at the door. I'd been doing quite well with my hiking poles, better than I'd expected, so took on the challenge Glad I did.

Scotland chapter two

I am nearly finished reading the first Outlander book, hence my thinking in chapters.  We watched several episodes at home and liked it, and I then picked up in the book where we'd left off in the show. I have mixed feelings, will have to see if I want to continue with either the books or the show. It's a little too romantized for me, but I love the details of 18th century life.  

We are now ensconsed in our Glasgow penthouse, this is our third day here. The apartment is great, with a few annoying quirks.  One, you can't open the fridge if the door to the living room/kitchen is open, which is more frustrating than it might sound. But in general the space is wonderful. We have a balcony with a great view of the city. And plenty of room to relax. The building was originally headquarters of the Anchor Shipping Line, and much of the artwork is related to that. Apparently many or most of the rooms have vestiges of the original building. But the penthouse level was built on top of the original building. I plan to ask the reception if we can look into one of the apartments after checkout time to see what they are like. 

To finish up on our time in Pitlochry: 

We went to a play at the beautiful local theatre, which performs a number of productions in rotation. We went to a performance of The 39 Steps based on the Hitchcock film. It was performed by four actors playing a large number of roles. It was very clever and well done. The place was originally a tent theatre, like the North Shore Music Theatre at home, and the Cape Cod Music Tent, and others. It is now a highly regarded venue. I imagine some folks come from other locations for a day or more partly to attend shows. They have a new director who will take over next year. It's the well known actor Alan Cummings. I actually remember reading about it at home.  He's from the area originally. I believe he proposed himself and interviewed for the position.  

We ate at a different restaurant each night, including the Coach House, the Old Mill. McKays, the Aulde Smitty Inn, and on our anniversary, on August 14th, at Fern Cottage.  They were all fine, but the Fern Cottage was by far the best. If you're going to Pitlochry, I highly recommend it as well as our B&B. 

The train from Pitlochry to here in Glasgow was about a two hour ride, but the train was over a half hour later. It didn't matter much to us, but there was at least one person who was a bit panicked (oxymoron?) because they were catching a plane in Edinbourgh and had two switch trains to get to the airport. On the train, there was an announcement apologizing for the delay, ( due to the heavy rains the day before) and explaining that  we were all due for a refund because the train was over a half hour later. Loring did it while we were in the train and we received the refund before we even reached Glasgow. 

SCOTLAND

Writing while riding the train. We are enroute from Pitlochry, where we've spent the last four days, to Glasgow, where we will spend the next five. 

Pitlochry was charming, though overly touristed. It  seems like everyplace is these days. But its charm came through, at the b&b where we stayed, the restaurants where we ate, the people we met, and the street lined with shops. They were mostly aimed at tourists, with the usual knickknacks and also full of tartan and mock tartan products, at least four  ice cream places, usually with lines, and oddly, three thrift shops, each supporting a different charity. One was run by the Red Cross, one by a children's charitiy, and the third, by the Scottish cancer organization.  

I spent one morning browsing those and some of the gift shops, while Loring took a couple of hour hike into the hills. 

To backtrack a bit:  We arrived in Edinbourgh after a pleasant enough six hour flight from Boston. It's always a pleasure to go someplace that has a direct flight. We arrived in the morning and were picked up by our pre arranged driver for the two hour drive to Pitlochry. We had chosen not to rent a car, mostly due to the driving being on the other side, and aside from the original drive, planned for train trips, the two hour one we are now on, and the one from Glasgow to Edinborough, under an hour, in another five days. 

Every Monday night in Pitlochry there is a drum and pipe performance, and fortuitously, we arrived on a Monday. It happens at the town recreation field, or, in the case of rain, at the city hall. The field is about a fifteen minute walk from our lodging. Many people had cars and drove, but many others walked. Hard to know who in the audience was local and how many were visitors. It was a great introduction to the country and the town. There were two bands, plus a group of  young local dancers. The emcee was very funny. He asked where people were from, indicating he'd greet each in their own language. There were many from England, Scotland,  a fair number from other European countries, one person from China, a group of Australians, and very few Americans, probably no more than a half dozen. The mc actuallly greeted every group with "bonjour" except for the French visitors, to whom he said "willkomen."

One band was local. The other was a prize winning band from Australlia who had last been there six years ago. I assume they have different guest groups each year, or perhaps even each week. 

The bands performed in precise formation, very pleasing to watch. Even Loring admitted that they sounded good. He's not a big fan of bagpipes. I never before noticed that not all bagpipes are in the same key.  

The dancers were young girls and young women. They danced to traditional music except for the last one, a single dancer who danced a more  ballet- like dance to more modern music.    

One dance featured two pairs, two girls and two boys dressed in sailor suits. In retrospect, the boy characters must have been girls, especially as there hadn't been any previous boy dancers. In any case, very cute. They then invited members of the audience to learn the dance. A large number of people came onto the field from the bleachers. Many of them clearly already knew the dance. Others had never done it before. It reminded us of the contra dances we used to attend, for many years, and where we met many of our long term friends. 

There was a female singer who performed two songs between the other performances, Unfortunately the sound system was terrible and her voice did not sound very good. Near the end, she and the mc sang a song together. He had not sung before, and it was a nice surprise to hear the two together, despite the mediocre sound. 

The performance ended with the two bands and all the other performers parading around the field, followed by most of the audience.

Wow, and that was only the first night. 

Tigh na Cloich, our B&B, was delightful, as were our hosts. The breakfasts were more than ample, and excellent. They held us over with maybe an ice cream midday, until supper. There was fruit, yogurt, cereal, croissants, and that was just the first course. Then a choice of omelettes. various kinds of eggs, bacon, baked beans, hash browns in little triangular cakes, tatties, which are more of a potato pancakes, , broiled tomatoes, toast, probably something I'm forgetting. 

The scrambled eggs were the fluffiest and most delicious l've ever had. I asked for the secret and they gave me the recipe. It includes cream or milk, and butter, as I'd suspected. Stephanie asked me to send her a picture from home of us cooking and eating them! 

On our second day we walked down to the dam on the river and the salmon ladder.  It helps the salmon make their way back to where they were born, to spawn and then die. That is, if they don't get eaten by eagles or bears, as we'd seen in Alaska and on a live webcam respectively. Don't know if anything gets them here, aside from their natural death. There was a live cam  at the visitors center, but we only spotted one fish through the very murky water. The visitors' center mostly focussed on the building of the dam in the early 20th century. There were recorded recollections of workers and residents, and info about how many had originally opposed it but later came to appreciate it. 

Some final thoughts, observations, anecdotes

We are home now, after a 16 hour flight from Cape Town to Atlanta, a layover, and a last two hour leg home. It is Delta's second longest flight, the longest being from Johannesburg, not much longer. It wasn't as grueling as we had expected. With meals, movies, writing, sleeping, the time seemed to pass. A few things that I neglected to write about before: The Maasai We passed a number of Maasai villages in our drives. The typical houses are small, with cone shaped thatched roofs. We frequently saw Masai people along the road and in the fields, men, women, and children. Many times they were herding cows and/or goats, men and also teenage boys. They wore typical clothing, bright colors and a cape-like material tossed over one shoulder. We also encountered them at the rest stops along our drives, often selling souvenirs and jewelry, or, especially the women, offering to pose with us for photos. We also saw them at the lodges, where the women were making and selling beaded jewelry. At one lodge, I marvelled at the skills of two Maasai women making a basket. One woman strung tiny gold seed beads onto a wire from a pile in her lap. The other one coiled already threaded wire into a basket. I had already purchased a beautiful basket at another location, and have been trying to limit my buying and even letting go of some of my collected handicrafts and oddities. But I of course bought another basket from the women. Beaded handicrafts are found everywhere we went, and are also common in other African countries. I know of beaded jewelry from a number of places. In Tanzania we saw jewelry, baskets, coasters, animals, much more in hotel and rest stop gift shops. At the airport yesterday I saw a life size Nelson Mandela made entirely of beads, very impressive. And also a not quite life size but also impressive giraffe. In the crafts market in Cape Town, the same crafts were available and many more. Many were the same as the ones we saw in Tanzania. I am not sure if they make the same crafts in both countries, or if some are imported from other countries. There were clothes, wooden carved masks, animals, furniture. And a variety of stone carved items. And paintings, none very appealing to us, that we guessed might have been made in China. (Loring read a book a few years ago about the industries in China producing art and crafts for foreign countries.( ie paintings of Paris scenes) And much more than I can describe. One shop had a vast quantity of beautiful African beads like the antique clay trade beads. I was tempted but resisted. I asked and was told that they came from Ghana. One shop had designer clothing both in stock and that could be custom made. I saw on their website that they had pop up shops yearly in Berlin and New York. I tried on several and was told they could be altered in a few hours, but didn't find the right one. And they were two or three times the price of clothing I'd seen in other places. On our last day, I did purchase a tunic made specially for me from material I chose, with the vendor assuring me that he could have it done and delivered to me in two hours. (we were leaving then.) I gave him a deposit and then had second thoughts about how wise an idea that had been. But true to his word he delivered it to our hotel only five minutes late. And I love it. There was one huge shop and gallery in Tanzania that we stopped at two different times, obviously arranged for the tourists. They had a vast array of many kinds of art and crafts, much of which liked, mostly quite large. They assured us the works could be removed from their frames and rolled up to be able to be carried home. But my concern was more the lack of wall space at home to display anything more than what we already have collected over the years. I think I was pretty reserved in what I did purchase, although not as much as I hoped to be. A couple of baskets, the towels with recipes I already described from the museum in Cape Town, gifts for the kids and two year old Julian. Carolina had requested, jokingly, an elephant and a warthog. We got her a small beaded elephant. Warthogs were harder to find, probably because they are ugly. We did find a bottle opener with a handle made of a warthog tooth. I think she'll like it. We got a set of wood nesting bowls for M and M. Julian gets a T shirt from Tanzania, and a shirt with a safari truck and elephants from South Africa. Loring bought a shirt with with an African pattern, probably the only clothing item other than t shirts he's ever purchased in our travels. I had wanted to buy something with a tanzanite stone, a gemstone found only in Tanzania. But I had no interest in a fancy expensive piece of jewelry, a good thing since tanzanite is very expensive. Most pieces ranged in the thousands of dollars. What I found is a silver ring in the shape of the African continent, with a tiny tanzinite stone marking Tanzania. The perfect souvenir! A few words about clothes, the ones we brought. We were told to wear neutral earthy colors, browns and beige and green. Supposedly bright colors attract the animals' attention. (But didn't we want to attract them?) And no blue, because that attracts the tsetse flies. Tsetse flies, shit. I was worried enough about mosquitos, to which I have a bad, sometimes allergic reaction. One of the first days on safari, I was bitten about a dozen times by insects that looked like house flies. I asked Nixon, our guide, what tsetse flies look like. He said these were tsetse flies. I felt sleepy for a while but think it was all in my mind. And sleeping sickness has a lot more symptoms. We rarely encountered any mosquitos, and hardly any tsetses after the first day or two. All of the lodges had mosquito netting around the beds, romantic but unneccesary. We were also told to bring our things in a duffel bag, I am guessing because they are easier to cram into the vehicles. We did, and fit everything into ones that are carry-on size, the way we like to travel. But ours were by far the smallest bags in the group. And some people were staying for less time than we did, and not going to a city in addition to the safari. What do people bring, unless they bring a separate outfit for each day of a trip? One more thing: let me describe some of the names of groups of animals we encountered, in addition to a tower of giraffes. A group of zebras is a dazzle, one of hippos is a bloat, a group of elephants is a parade, and one of flamingoes is a flamboyance. This is not something I learned on our trip, but something I learned about long ago. I don't know if these words or their equivalents are used in Africa or anywhere beside the United States. One more thing to research. But I have long thought of writing a children's counting/alphabet book that uses these group names. Maybe this trip will inspire me. I think I will end this account here, although there is so much more I could tell. I write this blog first for myself, as a journal I can look back on to remember where I have gone and what I have done. But I am pleased and flattered when others read it, so thank you. I hope I have entertained and informed you. And now, time to start thinking about my next adventure.

Around the Cape of Good Hope

One of the most popular excursions from Cape Town is a nearly daylong trip around the Cape of Good Hope with several stops along the way. Many people do it by bus tour. We decided, not being big fans of bus tours, to hire a guide for the day. The hotel referred us to Franklin. It was interesting just to ride with and talk with him during the drive. I told him we'd been to the District Six Museum. He said he lives in the district. He drove us past his apartment building. Much of the area had been rebuilt with business buildings after the desecration. And some new houses had been built to rehouse and recompensate people who the government had displaced years earlier. There have been some reparations made, but not nearly enough and it sounds like a complicated process. I am not sure whether Franklin's building was part of that, but don't think he had been due any recompensation. We drove through a number of townships and towns, some poor, some affluent, and in at least one case, one of each on facing sides of the road. Although actual apartheid ended decades ago, the contrast and inequities between races is striking. Whites comprise 7% of the population, and more than 90% of the wealth. Some of the towns close to the city are extremely affluent, with large fancy houses built into the cliffs facing the ocean. And then there are literal tin shanty towns. One of the many forms of local art consists of little tin houses made from soda cans, with a painted background. They range from about 6 inches square ( I bought one, of course) to huge works of art with incredible details. I asked Franklin if the elite neighborhoods welcomed black neighbors. He laughed and said that money talks. It sounds like money is more important than race in determining acceptance. Franklin was frank(haha) about thoughts about Mandela. He said that many South Africans do not consider him a hero because he didn't go far enough in demanding and implementing equal rights. But he himself did admire Mandela. He talked about many things, including his daughter, who is autistic and non verbal. That came up when he showed us his favorite beach, which he prefers to take his daugher to because it is quieter and a little harder to access than most of the other, more popular ones. We stopped at another spot famous for its penguin colony. We could have paid to enter at one spot for a supposedly better view. But Franklin indicated that we could get virtually the same view for free. We saw a few penguins, just at the side of the path, and they were neat to see. Maybe we were jaded by all of the wildlife we had seen the week before. My feelings about the tour in general were that I am glad we did it, just to get more of a sense of the area. But the stops were all overtouristed, although I can't really complain as I am one myself. It is a shame to have to wait in a short line to take your picture of the Cape of Good Hope sign. And we opted not to take the gondola to the top of Table Mountain, which provides and impressive view of the city. But it is not far from the city, and on a sunny day when there is a view, it is overrun with visitors. Their website gives a wait time for the trip up, and the trip down. It was over an hour each direction. We decided to wait and perhaps do it on another day on our own. But in the end, although we did have another sunny day, we decided to forgo it. Overtourism is not an issue just here. We have encountered it frequently in recent years, in places as disparate as Vietnam and Bar Harbor, Maine. It's partly due to the rise of the internet and influencers, and then those influenced, needing to document and share the perfect image of themselves. We've seen people posing and preening on beaches, for hours in some cases, and also sometimes narrating their experiences outloud as they pose. It's not just the influencers and influenced, I know, but the internet has certainly changed the way we travel. I did thoroughly enjoy Cape Town, although the typical tourist parts were the least of it. Franklin did take us to one neighborhood that was famous for its artists and its colorful houses. The story was that Bo Kamp householders painted their houses once they acquired ownership, to indicate their pride and achievement of ownership. It was touristed, too, but less so, and I found it more interesting. Partly due to the art, I'm sure. The center of the city is more visually attractive than I expected. There is a variety of architecture, including that influenced by the Dutch and the British. (the British fought and kicked out the Dutch.) There are a number of Victorian style buildings from the turn of the 20th century, including our hotel. Many are decorated with gingerbread adornments, and many are also painted in bright colors. The waterfront area, another tourist destination, is very modern and still growing. Lots of construction. It is where most of the large modern and chain hotels are located. There are also many large apartment buildings that are probably condos. It is not what I'd consider a neighborhood, and I am very glad we didn't stay there. All in all, an interesting city, one I am glad to have visited, despite my reservations about overtourism.

Cape Town continued

There were several places we knew we wanted to visit in Cape Town and the area. One was Robben Island, another was the District Six Museum, and Loring particularly wanted to do the all day drive around the southern part of the country to the Cape of Good Hope. We did visit all three and more.

Robben Island is probably the most well known location in Cape Town, at least for visitors. It houses the prison where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for over two decades, along with many other political and criminal convicted men. This includes what in South Africa is known as colored, people of mixed ethnic heritage.  I don't believe that includes mixed white people. Whites were not imprisoned there. 

It is about a twenty minute ferry ride to the island, The boat holds over 200 people. Like a number of locations around the world, it is visited by more and more tourists, and reservations are necessary. 

We waited  about an hour, partly because the previous ferry had been delayed.  There was a video about the prison on the way, and another on the return trip. The visitors were more white than black, and mostly tourists. But there were also several school groups of local black high schoolers. I wonder what they learn and think about the struggle to abolish apartheid. 

On the island, we took a bus around the place before going to the prison itself. There were numerous buildings,  a neighborhood of sorts that had housed the prison workers and their families. The video showed a few accounts of people who had grown up on the island whose parents worked at the prison. They recalled an idyllic childhood,  wandering in the fields,  never mentioning the prison itself. I wonder how much they even knew about it. The video certainly implied the irony.

There was even a church that is still privately owned, by Methodists if I remember right. And people still get married there. I asked the guide why anyone would want to get married there. Her answer was there were a variety of reasons, but she indicated that the main one was the novelty. 

Our guide through the prison was a former prisoner, which I found intriguing. He had been sentenced to five years, when he was nineteen, tbu had been released after four. He mentioned being asked by prison officials at some point if he had any remorse, and he answered honestly that he didn't. His crime had been burning some records that implicated people in resistence.  He introduced us to two other guides, also former prisoners, who were 17 and 15 when imprisoned. I would love to have heard more about their experiences.  

The highlight ( I say ironically)  of the tour was the cell in which Mandela had been imprisoned. It, and all the others, were furnished with a mat (not a bed) and not much more.  I don't believe the prisoners were allowed to have books. Our guide made clear that conditions were slightly better when he was a prisoner than when Mandela had been. 

We were shown a copy of a menu of the meals prisoners were served. They were different for the black prisoners from what the colored prisoners were served, less quantity and not all the same variety. 

The previous day, before our trip to the island, we visited the District Six Museum. It is not nearly as visited as the prison, but I found it especially interesting. It was housed in a former church that had been a haven for political protesters during the District Six removals of the 1970s.  District Six is an area of the city whose black population was forceably evicted by the goverment, followed by the bulldozing of virtually every building in the neighborhood.  It was then declared a whites only area. 

A portion of the museum is an exhibit documenting the memories of women who'd lived in the district.  Their recollections were accompanied by recipes written in the women's own hands and embroidered with illustrations.  In the tiny gift shop I found dish towels printed with some of the recipes. They were folded on a shelf where only a portion was visible and it wasn't clear what they were. I bought several as gifts, and if you visit I encourage you to check them out. I wish they'd been displayed better so more people would notice them. I may write and suggest that. 

The man in the shop said the towels were produced by a women's collective supported by the museum and that the money went to them.  That made them all the better. 

From District Six we went to another museum, the Iziko South African Gallery.  It is one of a consortium of museums. Iziko means hearth. There, we happend upon a retrospective by South African artist Sue Williamson, now in her 80s.  She has worked in a variety of media, including photography, printmaking, mixed media, installation art, more. This exhibit, called "There's Something I Must Tell You" documents the contributions of various women anti-apartheid  activists, whose names and stories are not as recognized as Mandela and many of the men. There were a number of women who were also convicted and imprisoned for their activism. 

At the waterfront, near the Robbens Island ferry, we had noticed another contemporary art museum, the Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa, (MOCAA)  housed impressively in a converted waterfront granary building. It was already closed for the day. We went back by taxi the following day. There were a variety  of exibits, some  by South African artists, others by international ones. One exhibit was by a Vietnamese American artist. Most impressive, though, was the building itself, and how it had been converted from a granary. If you do go there, make sure to visit the bottom level, the tunnels, which house the school program. And maybe the best of all were the bathrooms, Each stall in the women's was tiled in a different color, with corresponding toilets and sinks. Loring was equally impressed with the men's, featuring urinals in all the colors. One of the neatest bathrooms I've ever seen, rivalling the industrial themed ones at Mass MOCa at home in Massachusetts, also in a former industrial building. 

On our last day in South Africa, our flight didn't leave until evening. We asked for a late check out from the Granddaddy, for which they charged us the equivilent of $5 an hour, or $25.  It was an excellent decison. We were able to relax in our wonderful Grandaddy Suite for a few more hours. Okay, I spent a portion of the time perusing the nearby crafts market. And wound up ordering a kimono style (that's what they called it) jacket in the material and design of my choice, which they made for me in two hours. Our taxi driver was already waiting for us, and Loring was having his doubts about the arrangement, when the man arrived only five minutes late bearing the piece exactly to my description. 

Cape Town

We spent our last five days in Africa at the Granddaddy Hotel in Capetown.  It was the perfect contrast to our days on safari. There, we had been with a group, larger than we had expected, close to 40 including  a school group from Florida, from the school that Dolly and Paul's daughter had attended over a decade ago.  We travelled in groups of about 6 each in Landcruisers, so spent most of the day  in small groups.   

In Capetown we were on our own, with not much planned in advance. It was a pleasure to not have to wake up early and be on the road by 8:30, although with all the wildlife it wasn't very hard to wake up and get going. (after a sumptous breakfast.)

   In addition to the three floors of the hotel there is a roof bar, and, oddest of all, six airstream trailers, each with a different decorator and different name and theme. The idea had originally seemed appealing. But we were awfully glad we chose the suite. Not only are the trailers small, but the bar often hosts events, two just in the five days we were there, a wedding and a Ghana tourism event. The events are noisy, and the hotel guests and trailer occupants are not permitted at the roof bar during the events. We did get to spend a fair amount of time at the sky bar, so it wasn't really an issue for us. But we did hear that one trailer occupant asked to switch to another room during the Ghana event. We were also kicked out for the event, but the Ghanians subsequently invited us to join them. 

The Granddaddy has been a hotel since it was built in the 1890s, but has undergone several ownerships and identities.  I saw from old ads that it had previously been called the Daddy Longlegs, but couldn't find much more information than that. 

There was art by local artists on the hallway walls, although none particularly appealed to me. On the stairwells, though,  in plexiglass cases, were two outfits, a dress and a suit, comprised totally of maps. The suit  jacket had prominent maps of Boston and New York. 

A more than ample breakfast was included, with about a half dozen choices including omlettes, pancakes, and a breakfast bowl with scrambled eggs. Plus a buffet of juice, fruit, cereal, muffins, and more. And cappuccino as a beverage choice, with no extra cost and free refills! As I've said before, all the meals included on our trip were sumptous and more than I could eat, even in small portions. I expected it more at the safari lodges, which were catering to well off foreigners. But the hotel restaurant at the Granddaddy served both tourists and locals, and I had less expected it there. 

The Long St. location is central and in walking distance of some of the city's attractions. There is also a daily crafts market a couple of blocks away, which I tried my best to avoid. (unsuccessfully.) We saw vendors hauling away massive crates of merchandise at the end of the day. Incredible to think they do that daily. And so many merchants in competition with one another. It is hard to imagine how any of them make a living. They do, however, seem to work somewhat cooperatively. If one doesn't have what you are looking for, they will lead you to someone else who might.  I assume they get a cut of the sale. This has been true in many of the places we've visited over the years. 

To be continued in the next post. 

Final safari recollections and reflections.

We have moved on to the second stage of our travels.  We are now in Cape Town for our last five days of the trip. Before I begin to tell you about our adventures here, let me try to catch up with some more recollections about our time in Tanzania on safari.

And to apologize if this account is somewhat repetitive or disjointed. A few reasons - I had little time to write because our time was pretty filled with activities plus I unintentionally forgot to save a couple of posts and had to recreate them. And so much has happened that has been hard to recollect and record everything. 

First let me recount the places we stayed.

Our first stop was at the Serena Hotel in Arusha which was actually about 10 miles outside the city. We drove down a dusty and bumpy road to arrive there. Once there we went thru a gate with a guard to a lush and elegantly rustic lodging .

We stayed there two nights. The rest of the group came a day later. We had  come a day early to relax and recover from the long trip before beginning the safari.

The next two nights were at the lodge in Tarangire National Park, where we saw a wealth of wildlife. (see previous posts.) That lodge consisted of tent accomodations.  To us it was what we would consider glamping. But it's all a matter of perspective. One of our group members was so excited because she'd never been camping before. She seemed relieved that she'd made it and enjoyed it.  The tents had several spaces, bedroom, toilet, and shower room.  The exterior and interior walls were canvas. There was running water. The toilet worked like one at home or a hotel. The shower was pretty funny, consisting of an attendant who came at our request with a bucket of hot  water and stood on outside on a ladder to mix it with the cold. It was quite a decent shower. All the comforts of home.

The meals there and everywhere were sumptuous with a great variety. My only complaint is that there was too much food. I constantly wondered what the staff thought about all the rich white foreigners and our consumption of goods and experiences.  Everyone was friendly and didnt seem servile, and yet... I hope they earn enough for their families to live a decent life. 

We returned to Arusha to meet up with the rest of the group. In the following days we stayed  the Ngorongoro Safari Lodge , the Serengetti  Serena Lodge,  the Ndutu Lodge, and   the Lake Manyara. We went on game drives at each and between destinations. On our drive between Ngorogoro and Ndutu we stopped at the Olduvai Gorge where Mary Leakey did much of her archeological research, from the 1930s up thru the 1980s finding some of the earliest evidence of humanity. She and her husband Louis had earlier worked in Kenya. 

All the lodges were beautiful and elegantly rustic, if that makes sense. They were constructed with a variety of local materials in quasi traditional style.  

Every day was an adventure. We never knew what sightings a day would bring. The long drives, through rough terrain at times, were never boring because we were always on the lookout for wildlife, and spotting a great variety and quantity every day. Although the sightings became common the experiences never felt commonplace. Each spotting of giraffes or zebras or baboons or wildebeests was a treat.  The baboons were often sitting in the middle of the road, totally nonchalant about our presence.  Once a little one climbed up on our truck and sat playing with the antenna.

We saw hordes of migrating wildebeests, close up and in an endless parade along the horizon. The were often accompanied by groups of zebras. Nixon explained that the wildebeests had good hearing and poor eyesight, the zebras were the opposite. So it was a symbiotic relationship. We saw pools of hippos, lions, cheetahs, and one elusive leopard lounging in a tree.

 I wouldn't be able to lists all the species of animals we saw, but here are some of the twenty types of antelopes found in the country that  we encountered- from the tiny dikdiks that look like miniature deer and are the size of a small to medium dogs, to the eland, the largest,  there were Thompsons and Grant's gazelles, impalas, topi,  and more. Other species included storks, flamingos,  blue balled monkeys, mongooses, and others that I have mentioned before.

The giraffes were without a doubt my favorite,  so elegant and beautiful poised against the landscape. And almost unearthly,  so unlike any other animal. It felt almost like a dream to be watching them.  The whole experience, in fact, seemed dreamlike,  so different from our normal reality. 

At our next to last stop, our group of nearly 40 ( not what we'd expected) including a school group,  split into several, some returning home, others going to places like a beach resort, a one- day gorilla trek in Uganda, and more. And us here to South Africa. 

The contrast between here and the safari trip is striking; one urban,  the other largely wilderness. We are here on our own compared to the large group. And we are here for five days in one place, compared to being almost constantly on the road.

The hotel here is great, funky and in a central location. It is called the Granddaddy.  Today is our second day.  We are about to head out on a ferry to Robben Island where Nelson Mandela and many others were imprisoned. I will write more later. 

A Tower of Giraffes

Did you know that a group of giraffes is called a tower? Every animal,  it seems,  has a group name. Some make sense, some are whimsical,  and some seem strange. A group of crows, for instance, is called a murder.

 A tower of giraffes seems appropriate.  

Of all the African  animals, the one I wanted to see most were giraffes. I wasn't sure we would because they weren't mentioned in the literature for the trip. 

But we have seen them, many times often at quite close range.  Tower after tower of them. 

On our first day of the two day pre safari we were totally unprepared and astonished by the quantity and variety of wildlife we saw. There were zebras, giraffes, a variety of antelope species,  and perhaps more impressive of all, a herd of elephants that we saw first from a distance and then later, they came in a procession up the hill to right beside our land cruisers. They were literally close enough for us to touch them, although we didn't.

The thirteen of us agreed that nothing  could top this first day, and perhaps we were right. But no day has been a disappointment.  We have seen more and more species, and more of each one, every day. On the second morning we saw a pair of lions close up, just at the edge of the path. They seemed as docile as pet cats, lounging and not a bit concerned by our presence.  We sat watching for quite a while. it could have been fifteen minutes,  or a half hour. I lost all sense of time. Eventually  the male stood up, and mounted the female. The mating took perhaps five seconds.   Our guide Nixon (yeah he was born during Nixon's presidency) said they would mate repeatedly, every half hour or so. So we watched and waited until they did it again. Easy to miss if you had not been watching closely.

We've seen lions a few times since then, at times a pair,  other times a couple of males. Each time they have been equally languid, although they probably wouldn't be if we ventured beyond our vehicles. We wonder if they have just become used to humans.  

Where the wildebeests roam, and the zebra and the antelope play

The wildlife we have seen on the trip have been incredible, far beyond my expectations. I tried to keep my expectations low, or not to really have any expectations. But if I thought about it I would have said we'd maybe see wildlife from time to time from a distance, maybe just from a distance.

Instead it's been almost constant sightings, of individual and group sightings. We've seen more species than I can remember. But I will try to list as many as I can. There have been lions, cheetahs, elephants,  giraffes,  warthogs, antelopes, baboons, rhinos, storms, wildebeests, hippos, hyenas, and ostriches , jackals, and more. There are 20 species of antelope in the country of which we have seen about a half dozen. Not sure I could name them all, quite sure I couldn't recognize them all.

Yesterday we saw our first kill. We didnt actually see the animal being killed,, but the immediate aftermath was impressive enough.  First  we saw a cheetah, then two more.  We later found out that they were three males known to the rangers and referred to as the three brothers. We could see blood on their faces. Then we saw the victim, a wildebeest,  although unrecognizable as one. We could see the ribcage and some of the innards. A black backed jackal slowly approached, taking its time, cautious.  It then took its time picking the parts it wanted.

Meanwhile an eagle circled overhead. More big birds approached, vultures and storks, more and more of them. The birds waited their turn patiently, while the jackal continued to pick at the carcass. When it had its fill the jackal moved off and the vultures moved in. In turn, the storks waited until the vultures were finished. The storks attacked the wildebeests' intestines with a couple each pulling on an end, stretching it out between them. It was almost comical to watch, but also rather unsettling to the stomach. 

I will continue with account tomorrow.

Into Africa

We left Boston on a Monday night, flying to Amsterdam and then Kilamangaro airport in Arusha, Tanzania. We arrived the following evening, with a seven hour time difference ahead of home. 

At the Arusha Serena hotel, they served us a full meal even though it was about 11pm. And I do mean full.  

Our material for the trip told us to watch The Lion King movie, which seemed a bit silly to us. We watched a documentary and a drama set in Tanzania instead. 

But on the plane both the original movie and the more recent sequel, both animated, were offered. So I watched a bit of each, about 15 minutes of each film. That was enough. Then I switched to a movie about Temple Grandin I'd always wanted to watch. 

The two Disney films were entertaining, and reintroduced me to several Swahili words  (ie Hakuna Matata, which they really do say.) And Simba, Pumba, and a few other animal names. And the music for the original was by Elton John, and by Lin Manuel Miranda for the new prequel. But I didn't watch enough to hear much of the music.

Our tour leader, Dolly, had also suggested some books. One was by Sy Montgomery, a prolific nature writer. We'd read several of her other books, including the one about the pink dolphins of the Amazon. She had actually stayed at Amazon lodge we'd stayed at when we went to meet Carolina's birth family. And of course knew Dolly and Paul Beaver, owners of Amazonia tours. And it's Dolly who is now leading our group here to Africa. 

Sy Montgomery's book was about the great migration of the wildebeests, which happens twice yearly. We aren't here for the migration, but have seen many of the animals in the last few days, both afar and upclose. 

We bought several other books with a Tanzania theme, one historical novel about the Leakey's and their research. We are going to the Ulduvai site and museum tomorrow, where the bones of Lucy were found, and why Tanzania is called the cradle of civilization. 

And also bought Hemingway's short story The Snows of Kilimanjaro, which I probably read in high school but haven't yet read here. 

Several of the folks in our group have been to the Amazon lodges, and that is what led them to this trip, like us.  One, Shannon, went there to work with Dolly, helping the villagers with health care and education in the same village where we went with Dolly to meet the basketmakers and buy some of their wares. 

There were thirteen of us on the pre trip to Tangire, in two Toyota Landcruisers with a guide each. 

After those three days, a number of others joined us, including a school group with about 14, half students and half parents. Together we have now become a group of 36 plus seven guides and Dolly, a much larger group than we had expected.  We weren't thrilled about being part of such a large group, unexpectedly. But everyone is nice and it's kind of interesting to have the teens along. The school is in Tampa and is where Dolly and Paul's daughter attended, and is how the school began these trips. They actually do three trips a year, to different places, all of which are optional to both kids and parents. I'll stop here and continue in a new blog entry.

The pre- Safari Safari

 We met the first two members of the group the first night, Cathy and Susan. The next arrived the following night and we met them at breakfast. 

We'd deliberately come a day early to acclimate to the time change and rest before starting the safari.  That first night, we arrived close to midnight, and to our surprise were served a complete dinner. We chose parrotfish, and also had cream of cauliflour soup, and a flan for dessert. All was delicious. 

The next day we hired a driver and guide to take us to the local twice weekly market. We've been to many markets in many countries. This one was quite expansive, with largely produce, of which there was an incredible variety. We didn't see any other foreigners, nor were there many people buying things. It made us wonder what the vendors did with all the produce they didn't sell. Many came in by bus from outlying areas, and I also wondered how they were able to carry all that they sold. The great majority were women, some with young children who might have been their grandchildren.

The piles of produce were beautifully arranged in small piles, which Loring thought were arranged in advance to be a certain weight. We saw carrots, melons, many kinds of beans, much more.  I noticed thin green beans, even thinneer than the wonderful French haricots vert, and asked if I could try one. Our guide looked puzzled when I bit into it, astonished that we would eat them raw.  I didn't try to explain what veggies and dips were, but Loring explained that we often ate a lot of them when we were preparing to cook them. I wonder if he will try at home. Probably not. 

There were other areas of the market that sold clothing, and some that had shoes, both new ones and used. They were also artfully arranged.

One thing I didn't see were small restaurantas within the market for the vendors and locals and anyone else. We have seen them in many places in the past, but I didn't notice any here. 

Throughout the market people were friendly and said "Jambo" which means hello.  I knew that, probably the only word in Swahili that I knew, because years ago, when I was managing a children's bookstore, we had a book titled "Jambo Means Hello." Funny the things that stick in one's mind. 

The breakfasts here have been delicious and copious, at both places we've stayed. We've hardly needed lunches. But we were served them, boxed lunches with more than I could eat. I am still full from today's lunch, and it's almost time for supper. The lunches have been different each day, one day a beef stew with rice, plus fruit, juice, chips, chocolate bars, more. Another spaghetti with sauce, with as many accoutrements, and one day sandwiches with a  good filling that I couldn't place. 

Each day we set off at 8am after breakfast, and the first day drove to Tangire National Park, where we stayed two nights in a lodge, in tents. The tents were quite fancy, with bedroom and bathroom, and shower, and electricity. To us it seemed like glamping. But one of our fellow travellers was very excited because she had never slept in a tent before.

 The shower was the most interesting part. We each had a helper, a young man who brought hot water to mix with the cold when we asked him to. He stood outside the tent and hoisted up the bucket with a pulley. It was actually quite a good shower, strong and a perfect temperature. 

At night the men escorted us to our tents after dinner. They were pretty spread out, you couldn't see one from another, or hear others.

The first night two of our fellow travellers camae to dinner asking who was in tent !2. That was us. They said there had been a lion right outside our tent. But we'd already been up to dinner and didn't see it. But another couple came up rather late, and explained that the lion had been sitting  calmly outside their tent for almost an hour, and they sat there watching it until it moved along. 

Too bad we missed it. But that doesn't mean we missed seeing wildlife close up. We had an incredible first day, beyond anyone's expectations. I will stop here and describe it in the next post, because it's almost time for dinner. It's also time for Dolly to arrive to join us, along with the rest of the group. 

And onto Africa

 We left Boston five days ago(I think) on route to Kilamanjaro airport in Tanzania. 

The flights went smoothly, six hours the first flight, a 2 hour layover in Amsterdam, and about nine hours to Tanzania. 

Dolly and Paul Beaver had urged us to watch the Lion King before coming, which seemed rather comical to us.  Hakuna Matata? We didn't watch it at home, but it was available on our flight, not just the original one, but a more recent one with music by Lin Manuel Miranda and voices including  Seth Rogen, Beyonce, and also her 14 year old daughter. I watched about fifteen minutes of each. That was plenty.  The second one had much more sophisticated animation, of course. 

They had also suggested several books, including Sy Montgomery's book about the great migration of wildebeests, which we aren't going to see. Wrong time of year. 

You may be familiar with some of Sy Montgomery's books or her regular appearances on Boston Public Radio with Eagen and Broude. We first encountered her writing on our trip to the Amazon, about six years ago. Her book about the pink dolphins was at the lodge, and I read it. We met her later on at a book signing, told her about our Peru connection. She had stayed at the Amazonia lodge also, and knew Dolly and Paul. 

But we have seen an incredible amount of wildlife in the last three days, on our pre-safari safari with some of the group we'll now be travelling with . There have been thirteen of us so far, plus our two guides, in two vehicles. 

Paul is the founder of Amazonia and the lodges, and Dolly is his wife, and is Peruvian. We had met Dolly in Peru, and went with her to purchase baskets from a women's collective of artisans, which she had created.  She also founded Angels of the Amazon which is supporting the same village by building two schools, providing Christmas gifts for the children,  and more. 

One of the women on our current trip has done volunteer work with Dolly and the Angels of the Amazon, and has been there twice. Anothe couple has stayed at one of the lodges as well. It's an interesting group of people. About half are from the West, California, Arizona, maybe another state as well. The other half of us are from the Boston area, two couples who know each other well, and us. Coincidentally, the Easterners all wound up in one vehicle, and the Westerners in the other. But we all spend time together, at the lodges, at lunch and dinner, etc.

We will meet up with Dolly and the rest of the group tonight, at the Arusha Serena Hotel, which is sort of our home base. We stayed here the first two nights, back again now, and back once more at the end of our trip.

Jambo Means Hello

Jambo is the first word I knew in Swahili from many years ago in my children's book selling days. There is a book with that title, Jambo Means Hello. More recently I learned a few other words, basically names of animals from The Lion King. 

I have to mention that despite my slightly disparaging attitude toward the Disney movies, I thought the Lion King play was one of the most spectacular and creative Broadway shows I've ever seen, one on the short list of plays I'd consider seeing again. 

Now we've learned caribu (not sure of the spelling)  which means welcome, and  the response asante sana, which means thank you very much. Caribu means both welcome and you're welcome, which means they say it a lot, in a way that's different from the way we do. 

The staff at the hotels here are friendly and gracious, although a little unctious. Not sure how much that's the culture, and how much it's because the hotels are pretty fancy. The servers, for instance, spread the cloth napkins on the women's laps when we sit down to meals. (But not the mens'!) The staff at the hotels are constantly asking how we are, is everything fine, etc. which is kind of charming.

The meals are delicious and copious, a combination of local and more international dishes. A few examples: coconut curry with peas, barbequed beef skewers, fish stew,  sweet potato greens (much like spinach.) A wealth of choices at each meal. A different creamed vegetable soup every night. I could write an entire entry just about the food, but there's so much more to tell. And this is, after all, a safari. 

One more night (With a nod to Phil Collins)

I thought the previous post would be the last one. But it turned out that our flight home was first delayed, multiple times, and then after hours of confusing messages, was cancelled altogether. At that point it was not a bad thing, as the previous message had been that the flight would leave at midnight, getting us home in the middle of the night. We wound up at a very nice hotel near the airport. We could only stay there until 4:30 am because our flight was rescheduled for 7am the next morning. At least half the passengers were Dominican, although certainly some of them were U.S. residents returning to the States from a visit home. Some no doubt changed their plans, as the plane was not at all full on the way home. The flight itself is only about four hours, one of the reasons that we chose the location in the first place. We got home at about 10am and were able to catch the Logan express bus back to Danvers, just 10 minutes from home. This is our new best way to and from the airport, inexpensive and convenient. Just one problem, and I didn't know this until afterwards: The bus driver was texting while driving on the highway. Loring took video. This makes me very nervous, and conflicted about whether to report him. I don't want him to lose his job, but I also don't want to put anyone in danger. I think I will send a message without identifying him. Maybe they can issue a strong warning to all the drivers. Now that I have created this additional post, I want to share a couple of things that I didn't fully describe before. One is the images of two different parades of people, on the two different sides of our house in Las Terrenas. Part of the appeal of this house is the two different environments that the house sits between. I've written about this before, in these current postings, and also, looking back, from our previous trip three years ago. The front door of the house is on one of the main streets of town, replete with restaurants, bars, shops, condos, hotels, etc. Our primary sense was the loud sound and view of a never ending parade of vehicles, some cars, many more motorcycles, and an equal number of ATV's. And a very occasional bicycle. You have to wait for a break in the traffic in order to cross the street. It's overwhelming in sound and sight, but also quite entertaining. It's best appreciated by sitting at a cafe, or in our case, the local ice cream place. Some bikes have a sole rider, most have two, some have three, including a kid or two. The ATVs as well, and it's quite a mix of what seem to be natives and visitors. In some cases, I am assuming, it is long term expats rather than short term visitors like us. On the other side of the house, past the outdoor living room and garden, is a small gate, and past that, the beach.The door is nearly unnoticable from the beach. Even after two weeks there,I could mostly spot it by seeing our two lawn chairs sitting in front of it. It was covered by a lot of foliage and coconut palms. Although the morning we left, Julio, the owner's caretaker, came by with another man and a boy, probably his son. As we were waiting for our driver to take us on the three hour though not many kilometer trip to the airport, they were hacking away at branches. So now probably the gate is not as obscured as during our stay. I'm sure they must do that on a fairly regular basis. We spent many hours sitting on the beach between our other activities of walking up and down the beach, playing in the water, having breakfast and lunch (pretty much our only times indoors, just the preparation because we ate at the outdoor living room table.) and walking barefoot down the row of small restaurants to eat at our choice of venues for dinner. And during those hours reading and reclining on our beach chairs, we also observed a parade of sorts, a quiet intermittent procession of other beach goers. There were children on the weekends and afternoons and evenings. And many adults walking up and down the beach. Most must have been staying in locations not on the beach, but nearby, because our house is the only one on the beach itself. They were a mix, many Spanish speaking folks, but also a surprising number of French speaking people. Just the occasional American or English speaker. One of the servers in the fanciest beach restaurant, a bit upscale than any of the others, was French. But she said she'd lived in the DR so long that she didn't feel French anymore. And we remembered from our other trip that there'd been a restaurant owner who was French, although she did't seem to be there anymore. We read somewhere that there was an influx of Europeans in the 1970s, so maybe that explained it. The restaurants mostly had signboards on the beach with menus. In some cases they had menus in English, but mostly they were in Spanish and French. Sometimes I had to look at the French to help me understand the Spanish! And sometimes the English translations were pretty entertaining - ie. one described the various methods of cooking fish, " to the beach, to the pepper, to the fungus. The children on the beach were often unsupervised by adults. WE thought this was wonderful, that it was safe enough for their kids to be "free range." Some were probably children of the people running the restaurants, but I am guessing that some were from further away in the town. I will end with an encounter one night while we were eating dinner. The restaurant next to us was closed for the day. In the small space, several adults were sitting, playing music, and one woman was dancing with some children, teaching them steps to a line dance. It was quite delightful. We stood up to watch and Loring took some photos and a video. The dancing woman came over to us. It was kind of hard to hear her over the music, and with the language difference. We were'nt quite sure what she was trying to tell us. But gradually it became clear that she didn't appreciate our taking pictures of the kids. She wasn't unfriendly, not at all, but was clear that she didn't like the idea. We kept talking. It turned out that she was from there, but lived in Belgium. She asked our names, and her name was Joanna, the same as mine. Loring offered to delete the photos, but she didn't seem to want that. Our meals came and we sat down to eat. I don't remember if they kept dancing after that. I really wanted to talk to her some more, and hoped she would be there the next night. But she wasn't. It really got us thinking about if we were exploiting them by taking their pictures, presumably to post online. That's what we think she was trying to tell us. The video and photos were great, but I guess I won't post them because of her feelings. I will end here. In another six weeks we will be off on our next adventure, to Tanzania and South Africa.

Probably last report from here in the wonderful Dominican Republic

It is Friday, our next to last day here. We leave on Sunday morning. Back to reality. Can't say I am looking forward to it, especially with what the weather has been at home. I used to like snow, sort of. I still think it's beautiful when it's falling and right afterwards. At least, when I don't have to go anywhere. But I don't enjoy being out in it anymore. Loring still does. He skis, of course, but also likes to just be in and play in the snow. And, of course, there is the political situation to have to face. It's not that we haven't been following things here, we have beeen reading the Globe and looking at other internet sources every day. Yet I feel like we can at least maintain distance by virtue of the fact that we are in a different environment, where it isn't the focus of everyone's attention. We do have tv here, three of them actually, in the living room and two of the three bedrooms. But we haven't turned them on even once. And now for the food report: We have been having either eggs or yogurt and bananas for breakfast every day. My eggs have been in the form of French toast, because that is the perfect use for stale baguette. We don't have any syrup. I had intended to use our kiwi marmelade, but tried cooking slices of banana atop each piece of bread. Not bad. Loring has been making omlettes'with cheese and tomato. Lunches have been mostly cheese with bread or crackers and tomatoes, and cucumber the one time we found some. We have only been shopping in the little local markets, haven't been to the large supermarket at all this time, which is about a fifteen minute walk away. We have eaten every supper out, all of them in the various beach restaurants just steps away from our house. There's about a dozen of them. We've had only one meal I didn't like. The portions are huge, and I have wound up taking home leftovers several times, which became my next day's lunch. But a few days ago, we realized that one meal was plenty for both of us, so that's what we've been doing. Only problem with that is that we don't have the same favorites. Loring likes whole or fileted fish, which I do like also, but not every night. My favorites are seafood, shrimp, conch, crab, squid. Last night Loring gave in and we ordered conch in garlic sauce. Each meal comes with a huge side dish, of salad, rice, mashed potatoes, fries, tostones (fried plantains) and some other choices. One or two nights we had delicious vegetables, a combination of carrots, onions, tayota (chayote) but we can't remember which restaurant that was at. I thought the conch was delicious, Loring, not so much. So tonight I guess it's my turn to conceed the decision. Unless we get ceviche, which we both love. They serve it here as a main dish rather than an appetizer. Our conch meal last night was served with rice, so much of it that I took a huge amount home and ate it with eggs this morning. Which I also do at home when we have rice leftover from Chinese food. We had ice cream for lunch once this week, and plan to do so tomorrow for our last lunch. So I guess we need to make sure to not have leftovers tonite. The pastries from the French bakery around the corner are pretty good, although not quite at the level of true French ones. We've had fruit tarts, an almond croissant which I mentioned before, chocolate croissants, and an unusual tarte that was half chocolate and half a lime cream. It was good if a bit strange. There have been days when I don't go out to the street at all, just to the beach side, for part of the morning, part of the afternoon, and then again in the evening for supper. So i go without shoes all day. The people here are a real mix of tourists and locals, Dominicans and foreigners. I have been hearing nearly as much French as Spanish. We are wondering what proportion are from France, and guessing that at least some of them are CAnadian. One thing that has made us wonder is that we have seen poutine on a couple of menues, which as far as I know is not French but Canadian. The menus here are sometimes in Spanish, French, and English, but more often just in Spanish and French. Today is one of the only days I did not go in the water. It's been really calm almost every day, but today was much rougher and I chose not to go in. I do hope the waves are calmer tomorrow. If not, I plan to go in anyway. It's so relaxing to be in the gentle waves. Or maybe, even a quick dip on Sunday morning, before we leave here for the airport. It's a couple of hours drive. This will probably be my last post from here, unless something special happens tomorrow or Sunday. I am already thinking about the possibility of coming back next winter, which would really be a first. Unless someplace else beckons strongly, always a possibility. I just heard today that one of my mosaic teachers is planning two workshops next winter in Bali!

Day After Day

The days fall into an easy rhythm, not much difference from day to day. And that is fine. We spend the first couple of hours in our outdoor living room, which has two long couches and lots of pillows. Then spend another hour or two in the afternoon after our time on the beach. Breakfast is either yogurt with bananas and granola, or croissants from the French bakery down the street. Then, usually, a couple of hours on the beach. We have plastic lounge chairs that we haul out from the garden every morning, and back in at night. Lunch is usually crackers or a baguette with cheese, sometimes with tomatoes and or cucumber if we can find them. Today, though, we had ice cream from the place a couple of doors down from us on the street. It's pretty good, but pretty pricey for here, on a par with at home. Twice I have taken home leftovers from our dinners. Once it was a pasta and shrimp dish, which I had for lunch the next day. Last night I had sopa de mariscos, seafood soup, which was delicious, perhaps the best meal I've had here so far. And more than I could eat. I planned to have the rest for lunch today, until Loring proposed the ice cream idea. So it will probably be tomorrow's lunch. It had all kinds of seafood including shrimp and squid, conch I think, and I believe also some fish. The broth was gently curried, and there were veggies in it too, carrots, and tayota, known elsewhere as chayote and by numerous other names in different places. In the afternoons, more time on the beach, reading, and playing in the water. The waves have been quite gentle, although on a couple of days strong enough to knock me over a couple of times. And the temperature of the water is perfect. Loring goes on a couple of long swims every day, and I go frolic in the water at least once, listening to music on my favorite toy, my mp3 player. Today, though, the voice on the player was saying something, over Joni Mitchell singing, that I couldn't decipher. Until the music stopped, and I realize she had been saying battery low. Oh well. In the late afternoon we have been usually playing cards while having our rhum drinks at home. First it was gin rummy, then cribbage, and last night played 500 rummy which I don't think we've played for years. It's a good game. We didn't make it to near 500 points, so will continue as soon as I finish writing. And then, out for a stroll down the beach, our biggest decision for the day being which restaurant to eat at. We have eaten only once at each place so far, still have at least a couple to try before we return to any of them. We have six nights left after tonite, so are half way through our sojourn here in Las Terrenas. Today is Sunday. We expected there to be more people on the beach yesterday and today, since probably half the people here seem to be local, or at least Dominican. But that didn't prove to be true. Oh, did I mention the elvers and the elver fishermen? I probably did. Well, I will mention them again. Elvers are tiny eels, about an inch long. They are fished here, in some other tropical places, and seemingly incongrously, in Maine. They are prized in Japan where they are eaten in sushi and perhaps other ways.To be an eel chef is separate than a sushi chef, requiring special training. They are caught and then grown to larger size before being shipped to Japan. They are so valuable, up to $2000 a pound. There was a whole book written about them being fished in Maine. The elver fishermen, with their green nets, head lamps or flashlights, and plastic bottles to catch the eels, create an eerie, almost mystical vision along the shore at night. They line up, fairly close to each other, and comb the waves with their nets. It seems only once in a while do they catch an elver. Last night we walked along the shore, close to our house, and one of them brought his net up to us to show us the one he had just captured. I often see eel on sushi menus at home. I wonder if it is the same species as these. I am guessing not. This requires more research. I will report back.

Onto Terrenas

s We are now in Las Terrenas, our second and last destination in the DR. Today is our third day here; we will be here 12 nights total. This is the second time we have been to Las Terrenas, and the same place we stayed last time. I probably said before, in a previous post, that it is rare for us to stay in the same place twice. We like to explore different places. There are so many places I'd like to go, and also so many I'd like to go back to. I have begun to acknowledge that I will never go to all the places I'd like to visit. Also, so many places seem overrun by tourism that I might not even like visiting them anymore. This VRBO house is unusual in that it is on the main street of the town. The front door is on the street. But the back door gate, through a garden, opens directly onto the beach. It feels like a secret garden opening into a different world. it is apparently the only house in the. town that is directly on the beach. We don't have the spectacular view we had in Cabarete, with the waves rushing almost up to our building. But we still can hear the waves from here, from the bedroom, and the garden. And the beach is low key. There are the dozen or so beach restaurants that we remember from a few years ago, most of them with tables in the sand. No need to wear shoes to dinner, which was also true in Cabarete. I'd be hard pressed to say which place I like the best, we have been happy with both. I'm kind of glad this place wasn't available the first few days we wanted to be here, this way we got to experience both. Last time we spent a few days in Santo Domingo. The hotel we stayed at was historic and charming, but I didn't care too much for the city. The first night here we chose a restaurant about halfway down the stretch along the beach. I think it was a one person operation. A delightful woman welcomed us, took our order, brought the food. I am guessing she also cooked it. Loring had chicken and I had pasta with shrimp in an Alfredo type sauce. Delicious but way too much to eat. I had the second part for lunch today. I may not want any supper! Our pattern is to have breakfast and lunch here, and dinner out. We bought yogurt, granola, bananas, cheese, crackers, cucumber and tomato at a couple of small grocery stores. Our routine was similar in Cabarete except for the sumptuous breakfasts they served. There is a French bakery a few doors down from us. A little incongruous. They have fruit tartes, croissants, various breads, and a bunch of other pastries. The first afternoon we just surveyed the place and said we'd be back in the morning. Next morning L went out early and brought back a baguette and an almond croissant. The croissant was so big and covered with almonds and powdered sugar that I couldn't make out the crescent shape and had to ask the woman what it was! I can't say the pastries are as good as in a French bakery, but I am not complaining! A beautiful beach, a garden and outdoor living room, and French pastries, what more could one want? L went to the bakery again this am and brought home another baguette, a strawberry tarte, and a delicious macaroon. We haven't had the tarte yet, I'll let you know how it is later. Our dinners last night were a wonderful ceviche and a fish filet. There was a choice of ceviches, and two styles, traditional and Thai! I order the mixed Thai, which was marinated in sesame oil and coconut. But pretty sure what I got was the traditional. That's ok. I'll go back another night for the Thai. Loring has gone for long swims every day, as he always does in beach environments. I have gone in for long dips every day, not always true for me. I like calm oceans, with gentle waves. Happily, that's been the case in both locations here. I go in with my underwater mp3 player and dance around in the waves for, I don't know, maybe a half hour? It's hard to estimate time here. Today I listened to Eminem, Debbie Harry, Bruce, the Chicks and more. I think if people are watching me in the water they must wonder what the hell I am doing. And speaking of watching people, we were really entertained this afternoon watching two young women at the edge of the water striking poses and taking selfies and pictures of each other. Loring said they'd already been there for about half an hour before I came out. There are a few kite surfers here, but nowhere like the number of ones in Cabarete. I think the beach they all take off from there is even called Kite Beach. We think a lot of them must have been local, because they all came out late in the afternoon, perhaps after work? Also, we've noticed a number of local children in both places, often without adults, which seems so nice. Not something you'd find in the States. The kids in both places seemed to appear at about 3 o'clock which would mean after school. Yesterday, two little girls came up to us speaking in Spanish that we couldn't understand. They seemed to be asking for something. Then one of them went into a recited monologe which was really two parts of a dialog she'd learned, ie " How are you, sir? I am fine, how are you? And then they both struck frozen poses. It was rather odd; probably some kind of game that we couldnt understand. Yesterday there was one sole kite surfer off the beach, really close to us in the water. . We were actually a little concerned that he might get tio close and we'd get caught in his cord. Well, I've almost run out of things to tell you about, and Loring is hinting that it's time to play cards. And also have our rum cocktails. So I will stop here. On to the next event. TBC.