July 6, 2013

Since we were in the comfort of our own lodge room instead of a tent, we decided to get up a little earlier than the official “Jambo Jambo” at 6:30. It seems to take us longer to get ready in the mornings. At home we call Genene the “diddler” and nothing is different in Africa. She piddles a lot and has to be pushed to get moving in the morning. Greg and I are not much better, as we spend our time competing for the toilet.

Breakfast was really good, with farm-fresh foods. The coffee is particularly delicious, and we tried rhubarb juice for the first time and found it yummy. We ate prosciutto, salami, and fresh fruits of all kinds. We were supposed to pull out at 7:30, but Genene could not be rushed when it was her turn in the bathroom. We made it out to the car at 7:45 and found that the other two cars were already gone. Our guide said, “Hakuna Matata! (Yes, they really do say that here!) There is paperwork to complete at the entrance to the crater conservation area, and we will see them there.”

The baboons at the crater entrance were amazing. They are completely habituated to people and are thieves and pests. They roam through the cars. Our guide told us we had to leave the top closed and the windows up or they would get inside the vehicles. Sure enough, we watched as one stole a lunch right out of a parked truck. They were close enough to touch, but I had no desire to touch them. They have huge sharp teeth and don’t look friendly or cute at all. Our guide Simon said that he saw one fighting with a tourist once in another park. I asked him who won, but he only laughed.

The thieves with their booty:

Family:

Another family:

We drove to the crater floor. It was very cold at the rim and warm in the bottom: two entirely distinct ecosystems.

The view from the top of the crater:

The candelabra tree is beautiful, but its poisonous white sap can cause blistering if it gets on your skin or blindness if it gets in your eyes. Admire from afar!

Masaai herders in the crater:

When we hit the crater floor, the wildlife show started.

Wildebeests:

Beautiful birds:

Jackal on the hunt:

Hippopotamus:

Massive water buffalo:

We saw a family of lionesses eating fresh zebra. It was a bit far off, so our view was not perfect. It was still very exciting. If you look closely, you can see the blood on her face.

Another jackal on the hunt:

Wildebeests by the hundreds:

Hippo takes a dive:

We had lunch by a hippo pool, and Genene and I enjoyed watching them periodically surface and go back down:

This photo gives you a concept of how dusty it was on the crater floor (and everywhere during our stay). We are in the dry season, and it shows:

Flamingoes:

Wildebeest on the left, hunting jackal on the right, and flamingoes in the water. This place is like a Garden of Eden.

The jackals were really posing for me on this day:

The male ostrich is black and white, while the female is brown. When the male’s neck is red, he’s “single.” When it’s pink, he’s “married.” (How the guide explained things to Genene). I like this picture because you can actually see a waterspout on the lake behind the ostrich. We saw several water spouts and dirt devils.

More hippos:

Thomson gazelle on the run:

Impala:

I spotted a hyena stalking a water buffalo in broad daylight before the guide saw it. It was a proud moment for me, because usually what I spotted was bushes or rocks shaped like animals. The guides are truly incredible. Their eyes can see a thousand miles, it seems. They can look at something that is no more than a speck on the horizon to me and identify it and tell us something about it. Greg has good eyes and spots the animals quite quickly. We both find that we are getting better at it as the days go by.

The hyena didn’t stand a chance against these brutes:

A young zebra enjoys a roll in the dirt:

As we were leaving the park, a serval cat crossed the road right in front of us. I barely had time to get the camera up, so my shot was not good. I was glad to see it anyway.

It was a fabulous day in the crater. Our only disappointment was that we did not see a rhino. They are critically endangered due to poaching. Their horns are sought out because they are thought to give a man “stamina.” Why not just take Viagra and leave the poor things alone? There are about 30 rhinos on the crater floor, but our guide had told us it was unlikely that we would see one today because it was so windy. According to Simon, the rhino’s ear structure is such that the animal is very disturbed by wind and thus does not leave the wooded areas on windy days.

On the drive back to Gibb’s Farm, we passed a wedding party on the road in Karutu. The bridal party was riding in an open-top car, and cars and bicycles and people streamed along behind it, honking, clapping and waving. Two cars back from the bridal car, a six-piece brass band played in another open-top car. It looked quite festive, but our guides said we would tire of it if we lived here. Apparently it is a common weekend occurrence and clogs up traffic for miles.

Riding in the Land Rovers is harder than you would think. Roads are very rough, and you have to hold tight all day. A fine dust is everywhere and permeates clothes, camera gear, hair and skin. We end each day feeling very tired, sometimes even thrashed.

It was nice to come back to Gibb’s Farm and have another wonderful meal. We will be sorry to leave the comfort of the farm, but the Serengeti awaits us.

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July 5, 2013

Our peaceful sleep was interrupted last night by the ringing of the cowbell. On our first night at the nyumba, our guides explained the procedures in case of any emergency. Each tent is equipped with a cowbell, and if we had trouble, we were to ring it. They cautioned us that the bell was for emergencies and not for “room service.” We were dead asleep in our tent at about 10:15 when we heard the first “clank-clank” coming from Scott and Jocelyn’s tent. It was not particularly loud. In fact, they were ringing it like the aristocrats at Downton Abbey do when they are calling for tea. Consequently, nothing happened. We wondered what to do but just stayed put in our tent. Maybe it was a false alarm. In a few moments, the second ring came, this one much louder and more persistent. All hell broke loose. You could hear the Africans coming from the main tent, and Swahili words filled the dark night. What was it?? Lion, leopard, hyena? We sat up in the bed but kept our tent light off and listened. Then we heard Scott saying, “There are bugs in our tent!” Oh, hell, I thought and laid back down and went to sleep. The next morning Scott and Jocelyn were both sheepish in their apologies to the group. Their tent was covered in a swarm of gnats, and they had to move to another one in the middle of the night. We teased them a lot about the attack of the killer gnats.

We had our last breakfast at the Tarangerie nyumba, said goodbye to our hosts, handed out the tip envelope to the head man at the tent camp, and hit the road. On the road we saw a beautiful lion and an exciting zebra fight.

 Beautiful young zebra:

Zebra fight!

Woo pig sooie!

Delicate fawn:

We were on our way to Gibb’s Farm for a couple of days in a lodge before heading to the Serengeti. On the way, we stopped at a local wood carver’s shop. Our safari companions did not like the Cultural Heritage Center in Arusha because they took Visa and were very “touristy.” They were in search of a more authentic place to buy souvenirs, and so our guides obliged. The carvings were beautiful. The artisans held the wood between their bare feet and carved the ebony with sharp chisel and hammer. They let Genene try to carve some wood, and she thought it was very difficult. We bought several items, and cash on the barrelhead was required.

Children hanging around outside the carver’s shop:

Carving the wood:

We arrived at Gibb’s Farm at lunchtime, and we were starved. Gibb’s Farm used to be a coffee plantation, and they do still grow coffee there. Now it is a luxury lodge where they grow all their own organic foods. We ate farm-to-table meats and vegetables, and it was delicious. I fear I will gain weight on this safari.

After lunch, we toured the vegetable garden and coffee plantation. The beans are turning red and are almost ready for harvest. Genene got to spin the beans in a separator to remove the outer husk before roasting.

Coffee beans:

The coffee plants:

Genene running the separator:

This lady sang beautifully as she worked in the vegetable garden:

I was, of course, interested in the water supply. This is the well and tank:

Planting by hand:

Genene got to try her hand at milking a cow. She had done it once before on a school field trip and thought it would be easy. She didn’t get much milk out. All of us tried, and no one was any good at it. The workers make it seem so simple. They get the better part of a pail filled in just a few minutes. We tugged on the poor cow’s teat until she got annoyed. We also visited the pig pen. The folks from Seattle were gagging and complaining. I had it a little easier since I helped Daddy take care of pigs when I was in high school. Some of you have even mocked a photo of me on Facebook standing with my pigs.

The barnyard census:

Greg gets introduced to a big pig:

Genene tries her hand at milking:

Our room is spectacular, and I wish we never had to leave this place. We have the Writer’s Cottage, and the view off the veranda is magnificent. We have our own fireplace, and it is a necessity during the cold evenings. I wrote a couple of blogs here, while Greg and Genene read their books. Wine was plentiful on the terrace near the main lodge, and I took full advantage.

The view from our veranda:

The Writer’s Cottage:

We had dinner in the main dining hall. We were separated by a few tables from our safari companions but struck up a lively conversation with an older couple from New York City. It was their first safari, and they were positively radiant about their adventures. They were traveling the opposite direction from us and had already been to the Serengeti and the Crater and were headed for Tarangire, where we had just been. We traded safari stories. The food was wonderful. We had soup, salad, tilapia, and chocolate for dessert. After dinner, the staff came to light our fireplace and used a very old-fashioned but effective means to get things going: kerosene. Soon our room was toasty, and we were snug in our beds. Tomorrow we head for the Ngorongoro Crater.

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July 5, 2013

Our peaceful sleep was interrupted last night by the ringing of the cowbell. On our first night at the nyumba, our guides explained the procedures in case of any emergency. Each tent is equipped with a cowbell, and if we had trouble, we were to ring it. They cautioned us that the bell was for emergencies and not for “room service.” We were dead asleep in our tent at about 10:15 when we heard the first “clank-clank” coming from Scott and Jocelyn's tent. It was not particularly loud. In fact, they were ringing it like the aristocrats at Downton Abbey do when they are calling for tea. Consequently, nothing happened. We wondered what to do but just stayed put in our tent. Maybe it was a false alarm. In a few moments, the second ring came, this one much louder and more persistent. All hell broke loose. You could hear the Africans coming from the main tent, and Swahili words filled the dark night. What was it?? Lion, leopard, hyena? We sat up in the bed but kept our tent light off and listened. Then we heard Scott saying, “There are bugs in our tent!” Oh, hell, I thought and laid back down and went to sleep. The next morning Scott and Jocelyn were both sheepish in their apologies to the group. Their tent was covered in a swarm of gnats, and they had to move to another one in the middle of the night. We teased them a lot about the attack of the killer gnats.

We had our last breakfast at the Tarangerie nyumba, said goodbye to our hosts, handed out the tip envelope to the head man at the tent camp, and hit the road. On the road we saw a beautiful lion and an exciting zebra fight.

Beautiful young zebra:

Zebra fight!

Woo pig sooie!

Delicate fawn:

We were on our way to Gibb's Farm for a couple of days in a lodge before heading to the Serengeti. On the way, we stopped at a local wood carver's shop. Our safari companions did not like the Cultural Heritage Center in Arusha because they took Visa and were very “touristy.” They were in search of a more authentic place to buy souvenirs, and so our guides obliged. The carvings were beautiful. The artisans held the wood between their bare feet and carved the ebony with sharp chisel and hammer. They let Genene try to carve some wood, and she thought it was very difficult. We bought several items, and cash on the barrelhead was required.

Children hanging around outside the carver's shop:

Carving the wood:

We arrived at Gibb's Farm at lunchtime, and we were starved. Gibb's Farm used to be a coffee plantation, and they do still grow coffee there. Now it is a luxury lodge where they grow all their own organic foods. We ate farm-to-table meats and vegetables, and it was delicious. I fear I will gain weight on this safari.

After lunch, we toured the vegetable garden and coffee plantation. The beans are turning red and are almost ready for harvest. Genene got to spin the beans in a separator to remove the outer husk before roasting.

Coffee beans:

The coffee plants:

Genene running the separator:

This lady sang beautifully as she worked in the vegetable garden:

I was, of course, interested in the water supply. This is the well and tank:

Planting by hand:

Genene got to try her hand at milking a cow. She had done it once before on a school field trip and thought it would be easy. She didn't get much milk out. All of us tried, and no one was any good at it. The workers make it seem so simple. They get the better part of a pail filled in just a few minutes. We tugged on the poor cow's teat until she got annoyed. We also visited the pig pen. The folks from Seattle were gagging and complaining. I had it a little easier since I helped Daddy take care of pigs when I was in high school. Some of you have even mocked a photo of me on Facebook standing with my pigs.

The barnyard census:

Greg gets introduced to a big pig:

Genene tries her hand at milking:

Our room is spectacular, and I wish we never had to leave this place. We have the Writer's Cottage, and the view off the veranda is magnificent. We have our own fireplace, and it is a necessity during the cold evenings. I wrote a couple of blogs here, while Greg and Genene read their books. Wine was plentiful on the terrace near the main lodge, and I took full advantage.

The view from our veranda:

The Writer's Cottage:

We had dinner in the main dining hall. We were separated by a few tables from our safari companions but struck up a lively conversation with an older couple from New York City. It was their first safari, and they were positively radiant about their adventures. They were traveling the opposite direction from us and had already been to the Serengeti and the Crater and were headed for Tarangire, where we had just been. We traded safari stories. The food was wonderful. We had soup, salad, tilapia, and chocolate for dessert. After dinner, the staff came to light our fireplace and used a very old-fashioned but effective means to get things going: kerosene. Soon our room was toasty, and we were snug in our beds. Tomorrow we head for the Ngorongoro Crater.

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July 4, 2013

We were worn out and slept well in our tents. The tents are called nyumba, the Swahili word for home. “Jambo Jambo” (the wake-up call) happened at 7:00 AM. Hot showers were delivered to our tent, and we had breakfast at the main tent at 7:30 and headed out to view wildlife. The kids had their own car again today, and Greg and I were in our own car with Simon, while the other two couples rode together with Hasheem. We drove all through the Tarangire National Park viewing wildlife.

We checked the lion off our list of the Big Five today. He was a lazy fellow laying under a tree. He never raised his head. We had a very close encounter with an elephant. He was a large male, and he strode right up to our car. Our guide told us not to worry. The elephant was relaxed in his demeanor and exhibiting no signs of aggressive behavior. He just seemed curious. It was as if he were looking into the car to see if he recognized anyone. It was exciting beyond words. You could smell the musky scent of him. You could hear him chewing. I swear I could almost smell his breath. The temptation was strong to reach my arm out, but that would have been a mistake. He passed by and crossed the road directly in front of our car.

Simon is a pleasant guide. He is knowledgeable on many subjects but is not afraid to let some time pass in companionable silence. He has visited America more than once. He went to Florida and San Diego. He thinks he may come to Texas one day. He told me that he ate enchiladas in San Diego and loved them. He thinks Spanish is the most romantic sounding language, so Greg has been obliging him with a few words. We asked Simon if he could identify different tribe members by sight, much as Americans can sometimes recognize someone of Italian or Irish heritage. Simon said that it was possible. According to him, the Masaai are very distinctive. Many of them remove a front tooth so that they can spit. Other tribes mark their faces in particular ways.

We had lunch at the Tarangire Safari Lodge. There was a gorgeous view of the valley below. We could see elephant, zebra, impala: all were marching toward the river for water. We took a swim after lunch. The water was freezing. Genene went in first. Greg and I had to follow. A bunch of German tourists went in, each screaming as they hit the water. Eventually all of “our” kids got in the water. It was a nice diversion.

We viewed more game in Tarangire on the way back, and towards the end we stopped to see a herd of zebra. We were attacked by tsetse flies! They filled the car in moments. It was like the moment in “The African Queen” when Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn were swarmed by mosquitoes. Suddenly we were under attack, slapping ourselves. The flies bite, just like a horsefly. It hurts a bit and is very annoying. Simon did not stop to close the top but just started driving like a bat out of hell. When we got to the camp, the kids greeted us with their own stories of the attack.

We washed up at the tent and headed out for a kitchen tour. I am amazed at what the chefs can do out in the bush. They have a propane tank for cooking, a big box for cooking bread, a charcoal cooker for grilling, and one refrigerator and deep freeze run by a generator. The vegetables are kept in racks. The boiler is very simple by design and makes the hot water for the tents and the laundry. One of the workers at the tent approached Greg and asked him for help. He had $20 worth of small bills that were torn and marked. He asked if Greg would be willing to take them for a crisp $20 bill. The Tanzanian shilling is apparently volatile, so American dollars are welcomed, even preferred, in many places. We had been told to bring unmarked new bills and had followed instruction. We were happy to make the trade, as the crinkled bills spend just as good in the US. The man was very happy, and we had excellent attentive service for the rest of our stay at Tarangire.

We had another delicious meal: pork chops, garlic mashed potatoes, carrots, salad, pineapple dessert. Tomorrow we leave the Tarangire nyumba and head for Gibbs Farm and the Ngorongoro Crater.

Water buffalo:

Female ostrich:

Hornbill:

Riding on the roof:

The lazy lion:

Our close encounter with “tembo”:

Genene is enthralled:

The view from Tarangire Safari Lodge. You probably cannot tell from this landscape, but animals were everywhere.

Giraffe family:

The inside of our tent. We are really roughing it:

The baobab tree at sunset:

Postscript: I am uploading this on the 6th, so I am already days behind on my blogging and we leave the wifi area tomorrow. I will take good notes and do what I can!

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July 3, 2013

This morning, we left the comfort of Rivertrees to begin our adventure in the countryside. After a hearty breakfast, we said our goodbyes to Joel and the other kind people at the lodge and packed up. There are three families with us, and the other two families have two kids each, so there are five kids. Two are 14 years old, two are 11, and Genene is the youngest at age 9. The kids all rode in one car, while the adults are rotating in the other two cars. Today we would ride with Jim and Sheryl. The other couple had a car to themselves.

Our first stop was Arusha, often called the safari capital. It is the gateway for all safaris on the northern circuit in Tanzania. It is the home to the international tribunal that has judged the war crimes that took place in Rwanda some years ago, and apparently those trials are still ongoing. Justice runs slowly here, as in America. We stopped first in the Cultural Heritage Center, which amounted to a very nice upscale tourist shop. We got Genene a pair of tanzanite earrings. Tanzanite is a stone found only in Tanzania. It is blue/purple and very beautiful. We noticed Bill Clinton’s picture on the wall in the shop. I mentioned to the owner that I was born 35 miles from where Clinton was born. He replied, “Then you must be from Arkansas. You must know the late Don Tyson. He was one of my best clients.” I told the man that I didn’t know Don personally but had eaten a lot of his chickens. We Arkansans get around.

We drove through Arusha, and I was amazed at the teeming crowds of people. Many of them wore brightly colored clothes, some were pushing or pulling carts or riding bicycles or motorcycles. They were carrying every manner of thing: fruits, vegetables, water, supplies. People burn wood for cooking, heating water, warmth. The smell of smoke and gasoline was in the air, and we got the occasional whiff of weed. Arusha is a busy place.

It is about a three-hour drive over increasingly rough and narrow roads to Tarangire National Park. Along the way, we passed through several bustling towns having market days. Our driver told us we would not be stopping and that it was not polite to take pictures of people, so I do not have any photographs of this to show you. There were Maasai people everywhere along the roadside tending cattle and goats. The Maasai are the pastoral people known to everyone from the movies or “National Geographic.” Tall and slender, the men are typically clothed in red garments and elaborate beads. The women wear purple and have close-cut hair. They are nomadic and live as they did many years ago, tending their livestock. They do not kill their cattle. Instead they try to accumulate them; one’s status in the community is based on how many cattle are owned. The children tend the cattle, and they are YOUNG. They waved at us from the road.

Our guide mentioned that there are over 100 tribes in Tanzania. Each of them speaks a distinct language, but none of the tribes comprises more than 10% of the population. All Tanzanians are required to speak Swahili, and this common language unites them. Our guide explained that his father had two wives, but this is now frowned up and besides that, it’s too expensive.

We had lunch at the entrance to the park. Monkeys were hanging around at the picnic tables, waiting to steal any food left behind. We drove straight into the park and started looking for wildlife. It didn’t take long. We had not gone a quarter-mile when we saw large herds of zebra and wildebeest. Elephants, giraffes, impalas, lovebirds and warthogs followed close behind. We heard an elephant trumpeting repeatedly. That is an exhilarating sound:  Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore!

We arrived in camp hot and tired at 5:30. We were greeted by the camp staff with cold towels and fresh juice. They demonstrated how everything in our tent would work. The tent must be zipped up at all times or creatures will get in. The tents have a king-sized bed with luxury sheets and a twinner for Genene. We are not roughing it that much. There are solar-powered lights, showers and a camp toilet in each one. If you want a hot shower, you must order it up. The camp staff brings what looks like a 5-gallon bucket full of water. You wet yourself, turn it off, soap up, and finally rinse. I was scared that the bucket would not be enough, but it is plenty of water to do the job. It made me realize how wasteful I am when I stand under the shower for 20 minutes. There are pitchers of water for hand washing and bottled water for drinking and brushing teeth.

Genene loves playing with the other kids and wants nothing to do with us. There is a mentor who rides in the car with them and plays games with them at camp. It is a joy to hear her shrieking and laughing as she plays. Thomson’s camp food is plentiful and delicious. We had potato and leek soup, beef, spinach, eggplant, salad, chicken, rice, red beans, banana split ice cream. There are several varieties of beer and Greg has tried Kilimanjaro, Tusker, Safari, Ndovu and Serengeti. He is still trying to decide which one is his favorite.

Colorful birds are everywhere:

Zebra crossing:

Impalas on the run:

Genene snapping photos:

Acacia tree:

The baobab trees can be over 2000 years old:

Vulture on the nest:

Baby elephant running to catch up with his momma:

Looking right at me:

Playing in the water hole:

The kid car:

The giraffes love to peek at us from behind the bushes:

Zebras take their turn in the watering hole after the elephants finished:

Impalas locking horns:

Candelabra tree:

Zebra in the brush:

Home sweet home:

More to come.

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July 2, 2013

Today was our first day to meet our Thomson safari guides and start looking at animals, and it was wonderful. I am going to go short on words and long on pictures.

Our guides picked us up at 9 AM and went through a briefing. There are two other families touring with Thomson. Both are from Seattle but did not know one another. Tomorrow the kids are going to ride in one car while the adults go in the other two. For today, we all split up by family and rode in separate Land Rovers. The Rovers are equipped with pop-up tops so that you can stand in your seats and view the animals. We drove to Arusha National Park and viewed the wildlife, had lunch and took a hike to a waterfall. I’ve got to be brief because we have to get packed. Tomorrow we leave for our first night of tent camping. I am not sure when or if I will have any more internet access. I will keep the blog and upload it when I can.

At the start of the day when we still looked fresh:

It’s almost 7:00 PM now. I hear the call to prayer and it is time for us to get some dinner, pack our bags and head out for the bush. We are going to Tarangire National Park and then into the Serengeti. As I said, I don’t know when I will be able to write again. I will check in when I can.

Until later…..

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July 2, 2013

Today was our first day to meet our Thomson safari guides and start looking at animals, and it was wonderful. I am going to go short on words and long on pictures.

Our guides picked us up at 9 AM and went through a briefing. There are two other families touring with Thomson. Both are from Seattle but did not know one another. Tomorrow the kids are going to ride in one car while the adults go in the other two. For today, we all split up by family and rode in separate Land Rovers. The Rovers are equipped with pop-up tops so that you can stand in your seats and view the animals. We drove to Arusha National Park and viewed the wildlife, had lunch and took a hike to a waterfall. I've got to be brief because we have to get packed. Tomorrow we leave for our first night of tent camping. I am not sure when or if I will have any more internet access. I will keep the blog and upload it when I can.

At the start of the day when we still looked fresh:

It's almost 7:00 PM now. I hear the call to prayer and it is time for us to get some dinner, pack our bags and head out for the bush. We are going to Tarangire National Park and then into the Serengeti. As I said, I don't know when I will be able to write again. I will check in when I can.

Until later…..

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June 29, 2013

Jambo!

Safari is the Swahili word for journey. My friends, we are taking one! After years of pipe dreaming, we finally booked a safari and headed for Tanzania. I hope you enjoy my blog and photos.

We left Houston on Saturday at noon. We like to leave the driving to Action Limos so that we can relax and let someone else navigate the mysteries of Houston traffic, where a jam can appear inexplicably at any time of the day or night. Our driver picked us up on time and we said our goodbyes to Nala and the cats and to our house. We have decided to undertake an entire downstairs remodeling project this summer, so our whole kitchen will be demolished while we are out. Goodbye dog! Goodbye ugly wallpaper!

Our check-in at the airport was completely uneventful, and our 747-400 was waiting for us. This is our first time to fly with KLM, and we toyed with the idea of buying first class tickets. In the end, I just could not fathom paying for it. However, we did pay extra for seats with more leg room, and this was money well spent. That four inches makes a huge difference. The plane boarded on time, but we sat on the tarmac for a while, and it was HOT. Just as we were preparing to roll, Greg asked me if I had downloaded the new required AT&T wifi app that came with our international data plan. What app??? I almost started crying. I hadn't read the message from AT&T. I just assumed it was a confirmation of our purchase of the data plan. I furtively turned my phone back on in the plane and quickly downloaded the app, just before they pushed back from the jetway. Whew. Those little details get me every time.

I liked KLM. Their in-flight entertainment was plentiful. They passed out piping hot towels several times. The food was acceptable. Genene immersed herself in her own small TV. She's a veteran traveler and needs no special entertainment from Mom and Dad. Greg and I slept on and off, and we arrived in Amsterdam (Amster, Amster, Shhh, Shhh, Shhh!) on time.

June 30, 2013

It was morning when we arrived in Amsterdam. We hopped off the plane, and Greg found one of those perfect airport bathrooms–not on the main terminal and down a short flight of stairs, it was empty and clean. We returned to the main terminal and began looking for our departure gate. It was literally 30 steps from where we had gotten off the first plane. How easy was that?

For reasons that are not clear to me, we had to repeat the entire security procedure. I guess the Amsterdam airport security cannot trust that the US airport security has sufficiently undressed and humiliated everyone with their body scanning machines. Belts off, pockets emptied, electronics out for inspection, toothpaste and “spit kits” in the quart bags….we did it all again at the new gate. For once, none of us got selected for special screening, so in spite of my griping, it was all pretty uneventful…nothing more than a hassle.

We rode in a smaller 777-200. I was surprised at the clientele aboard. I expected more Africans. Instead the plane was mostly filled with Americans and Europeans. Greg and I were actually among the younger of the travelers. It seems that going on safari is on a lot of bucket lists, and perhaps many people don't check it off until they are retired. Again, our experience with KLM was good. Hot towels, good food, no nonsense. We napped a bit on this flight, but Greg and I tried not to fall asleep for any big stretches. We were to arrive in Kilimanjaro at night, and so there would be none of the usual efforts of trying to stay awake all day to avoid jet lag. We let Genene do what she wanted, and she slept quite a bit.

It was really exciting watching the flight tracker: all of those evocative names….Nile River, Addis Ababa, Sahara Desert.

Greg served in the Coast Guard on an ice breaker, so of course he has been across the equator. Genene and I, on the other hand, were first timers. Greg told Genene many stories of the “ceremony” on his ship on the day they crossed. The first timers, pollywogs, had to wear their shoes on the wrong feet, shirts on inside out and backwards, and underwear on top of their pants. The veterans–shellbacks–made the pollywogs do all kinds of unpleasant things, including climbing through some sort of chute filled with several days' worth of kitchen garbage. There was a ceremony with King Neptune that involved “kissing the baby.” The shellbacks found the largest man among them with the softest belly, put a diaper on him, smeared the belly with some nasty grease, and made each pollywog kiss the baby's belly. I told Genene that this sounded like the kind of thing that happens when men are put in charge of something. Greg teased Genene all day about making her kiss his shellback belly.

Greg tried one more story on Genene early on in the flight from Amsterdam to Kilimanjaro. He told her that when his boat crossed the equator that two men rushed to the front of the boat with giant hooks to “lift” the equator up so that the boat could pass under it. Greg's story was long and detailed, and Genene listened intently. In the end, she snorted and said, “Dad, do you really think I'm that stupid? The equator isn't really there!!” We made the crossing without incident. The pilot did not even announce the crossing, so we had to estimate it by watching the flight tracker. Greg could hardly even rouse Genene, and he certainly could not convince her to kiss his belly. We are all shellbacks now.

While there is a 7 hour difference between Houston and Amsterdam, there is only a one hour difference between Amsterdam and Kilimanjaro. In effect, we flew east to Amsterdam and then pretty much south to Tanzania. We arrived at about 7:30 PM Tanzania time. The sun was already down, and the jetway was nothing more than a set of stairs to the tarmac, which we walked across to get to the airport. It was a zoo. There was just one big room with the immigration agents at one end. In my typical fashion, I moved out of a good, fast moving line because the sign said it was for East Africans. Of course, I managed to get us into the molasses line. As it turned out, the signs meant nothing. All of the immigration agents were tending to all comers, so I could have stayed right where I was. Oh no….I had to try to be a rule-follower and thus moved us into the line with the guy who didn't care whether you came to his country or not. We had gone to the trouble of getting our visas beforehand to save time, but many people were able to get through the visa and immigration line faster than we got through the one line. Ugh. It was just one final indignity on a long day. We were fingerprinted and had our photos taken and finally crossed over to the other side of the airport. A porter helped us collect our bags, and we met our driver John and our host Fatima.

We met a couple from DC in the car. They were weary, as were we, so conversation was at a minimum. It took about 20 minutes to get from the airport to our hotel, Rivertrees Country Inn, in the outskirts of Arusha. Arusha is known as the gateway to safari country. 66879788877787887Our hotel hosts met us with cold towels and watermelon juice. They showed us to our room, where the bags were already waiting. We are in a cottage. Our beds have mosquito netting, and it is not there just for looks. It's very romantic looking. We had a late dinner at the lodge. Genene had a massive cheeseburger, Greg had fish and chips, and I had pork in ginger sauce. From the time we left our home to the time we got to Rivertrees, 24 hours and 38 minutes had elapsed. We were worn out.

In this picture, Genene is waiting on her first meal. She has that zetlag zombie stare.

July 1, 2013

I am a light sleeper and awoke with a start before the sunrise. Someone was chanting/singing. Greg roused too, and I told him that I thought it was a Muslim call to prayer. We wouldn't be sure until we heard it again later in the day and asked someone. She confirmed, “It's Islam.” It really is a beautiful sound, and it highlights one of the reasons we chose Tanzania for our safari. It is a stable democracy, and its government keeps no official count of religious affiliation. It is estimated that 15% of Tanzanians follow animist beliefs; 40% are Muslim; 45% are Christian, mostly Roman Catholic and Lutheran. They live together in relative harmony. It is possible!

Here's a picture of the main lodge.

We had no special plans for the day and so went back to sleep. We had breakfast at the lodge and took a hike around the grounds. Rivertrees sits on the edge of a river, and the area is lush, green and subtropical. Birds are everywhere. I wish I knew more about birds. Perhaps some day when I have more time….Anyway, there are birders all over the property with spotting scopes and cameras. Not a one of them is a day under 70, so I guess I've got time to learn. The walk along the river is rustic and beautiful. The little wooden bridges across the streams have missing spans and creak when you walk across them. We are told that there are monkeys on the property but we have not seen them yet. We have seen squirrels, or something like them. Genene has made friends with Mickey, the caretaker's dog. They are in America right now, and Mickey gets shipped out to Europe in a few weeks to meet up with them. In the meantime, he wanders the grounds, spoiled rotten by everyone. The staff gave Genene a leash and encouraged her to make him walk all around the grounds. She was only too happy to do so.

Genene and Mickey:

Genene down by the river:

Another view of the river:

The vegetable garden had an interesting scarecrow:

Our cabin:

It took us a while to see Mount Kilimanjaro. It's called the “shy mountain” because it is frequently covered by clouds. We could make out the barest snow cap on it after a gardener helped us understand what to look for.

We had a wonderful lunch on the grounds. Genene made friends with the cook, and he let her help him make pizzas.

Making pizza:

In the afternoon, Genene and I got massages while Greg took some exercise. The massage was heavenly. I walked the grounds wearing nothing but a robe and was led into a tent with a massage table and huge stone tub. I got 50 minutes of Swedish massage and a nice hot bath. That reminds me: hot water is something of a commodity, even at a resort. The water pressure is fairly low. The commode has one of those European two-button set-ups, but only the big button gets you any kind of flush. We brush our teeth with bottled water and try to be careful not to get any of the tap water into our mouths. So far, so good.

We are in a compound of sorts, completely fenced and gated, with security at the perimeter. The main road is just over the fence, and we have seen all kinds of traffic on it. Old motorcycles, a goat herder and herd, people walking, cars and vans flying by….all manner of humanity. It's an interesting show.

This evening, we saw a huge owl in the trees. Minutes later, we finally saw a monkey.

The sun is gone, and we are about to have dinner. It has been a good day.

Until tomorrow…..

Posted with Blogsy

June 29, 2013

Jambo!

Safari is the Swahili word for journey. My friends, we are taking one! After years of pipe dreaming, we finally booked a safari and headed for Tanzania. I hope you enjoy my blog and photos.

We left Houston on Saturday at noon. We like to leave the driving to Action Limos so that we can relax and let someone else navigate the mysteries of Houston traffic, where a jam can appear inexplicably at any time of the day or night. Our driver picked us up on time and we said our goodbyes to Nala and the cats and to our house. We have decided to undertake an entire downstairs remodeling project this summer, so our whole kitchen will be demolished while we are out. Goodbye dog! Goodbye ugly wallpaper!

Our check-in at the airport was completely uneventful, and our 747-400 was waiting for us. This is our first time to fly with KLM, and we toyed with the idea of buying first class tickets. In the end, I just could not fathom paying for it. However, we did pay extra for seats with more leg room, and this was money well spent. That four inches makes a huge difference. The plane boarded on time, but we sat on the tarmac for a while, and it was HOT. Just as we were preparing to roll, Greg asked me if I had downloaded the new required AT&T wifi app that came with our international data plan. What app??? I almost started crying. I hadn’t read the message from AT&T. I just assumed it was a confirmation of our purchase of the data plan. I furtively turned my phone back on in the plane and quickly downloaded the app, just before they pushed back from the jetway. Whew. Those little details get me every time.

I liked KLM. Their in-flight entertainment was plentiful. They passed out piping hot towels several times. The food was acceptable. Genene immersed herself in her own small TV. She’s a veteran traveler and needs no special entertainment from Mom and Dad. Greg and I slept on and off, and we arrived in Amsterdam (Amster, Amster, Shhh, Shhh, Shhh!) on time.

June 30, 2013

It was morning when we arrived in Amsterdam. We hopped off the plane, and Greg found one of those perfect airport bathrooms–not on the main terminal and down a short flight of stairs, it was empty and clean. We returned to the main terminal and began looking for our departure gate. It was literally 30 steps from where we had gotten off the first plane. How easy was that?

For reasons that are not clear to me, we had to repeat the entire security procedure. I guess the Amsterdam airport security cannot trust that the US airport security has sufficiently undressed and humiliated everyone with their body scanning machines. Belts off, pockets emptied, electronics out for inspection, toothpaste and “spit kits” in the quart bags….we did it all again at the new gate. For once, none of us got selected for special screening, so in spite of my griping, it was all pretty uneventful…nothing more than a hassle.

We rode in a smaller 777-200. I was surprised at the clientele aboard. I expected more Africans. Instead the plane was mostly filled with Americans and Europeans. Greg and I were actually among the younger of the travelers. It seems that going on safari is on a lot of bucket lists, and perhaps many people don’t check it off until they are retired. Again, our experience with KLM was good. Hot towels, good food, no nonsense. We napped a bit on this flight, but Greg and I tried not to fall asleep for any big stretches. We were to arrive in Kilimanjaro at night, and so there would be none of the usual efforts of trying to stay awake all day to avoid jet lag. We let Genene do what she wanted, and she slept quite a bit.

It was really exciting watching the flight tracker: all of those evocative names….Nile River, Addis Ababa, Sahara Desert.

Greg served in the Coast Guard on an ice breaker, so of course he has been across the equator. Genene and I, on the other hand, were first timers. Greg told Genene many stories of the “ceremony” on his ship on the day they crossed. The first timers, pollywogs, had to wear their shoes on the wrong feet, shirts on inside out and backwards, and underwear on top of their pants. The veterans–shellbacks–made the pollywogs do all kinds of unpleasant things, including climbing through some sort of chute filled with several days’ worth of kitchen garbage. There was a ceremony with King Neptune that involved “kissing the baby.” The shellbacks found the largest man among them with the softest belly, put a diaper on him, smeared the belly with some nasty grease, and made each pollywog kiss the baby’s belly. I told Genene that this sounded like the kind of thing that happens when men are put in charge of something. Greg teased Genene all day about making her kiss his shellback belly.

Greg tried one more story on Genene early on in the flight from Amsterdam to Kilimanjaro. He told her that when his boat crossed the equator that two men rushed to the front of the boat with giant hooks to “lift” the equator up so that the boat could pass under it. Greg’s story was long and detailed, and Genene listened intently. In the end, she snorted and said, “Dad, do you really think I’m that stupid? The equator isn’t really there!!” We made the crossing without incident. The pilot did not even announce the crossing, so we had to estimate it by watching the flight tracker. Greg could hardly even rouse Genene, and he certainly could not convince her to kiss his belly. We are all shellbacks now.

While there is a 7 hour difference between Houston and Amsterdam, there is only a one hour difference between Amsterdam and Kilimanjaro. In effect, we flew east to Amsterdam and then pretty much south to Tanzania. We arrived at about 7:30 PM Tanzania time. The sun was already down, and the jetway was nothing more than a set of stairs to the tarmac, which we walked across to get to the airport. It was a zoo. There was just one big room with the immigration agents at one end. In my typical fashion, I moved out of a good, fast-moving line because the sign said it was for East Africans. Of course, I managed to get us into the molasses line. As it turned out, the signs meant nothing. All of the immigration agents were tending to all comers, so I could have stayed right where I was. Oh no….I had to try to be a rule-follower and thus moved us into the line with the guy who didn’t care whether you came to his country or not. We had gone to the trouble of getting our visas beforehand to save time, but many people were able to get through the visa and immigration line faster than we got through the one line. Ugh. It was just one final indignity on a long day. We were fingerprinted and had our photos taken and finally crossed over to the other side of the airport. A porter helped us collect our bags, and we met our driver John and our host Fatima.

We met a couple from DC in the car. They were weary, as were we, so conversation was at a minimum. It took about 20 minutes to get from the airport to our hotel, Rivertrees Country Inn, in the outskirts of Arusha. Arusha is known as the gateway to safari country.  Our hotel hosts met us with cold towels and watermelon juice. They showed us to our room, where the bags were already waiting. We are in a cottage. Our beds have mosquito netting, and it is not there just for looks. It’s very romantic looking. We had a late dinner at the lodge. Genene had a massive cheeseburger, Greg had fish and chips, and I had pork in ginger sauce. From the time we left our home to the time we got to Rivertrees, 24 hours and 38 minutes had elapsed. We were worn out.

In this picture, Genene is waiting on her first meal. She has that jetlag zombie stare.

July 1, 2013

I am a light sleeper and awoke with a start before the sunrise. Someone was chanting/singing. Greg roused too, and I told him that I thought it was a Muslim call to prayer. We wouldn’t be sure until we heard it again later in the day and asked someone. She confirmed, “It’s Islam.” It really is a beautiful sound, and it highlights one of the reasons we chose Tanzania for our safari. It is a stable democracy, and its government keeps no official count of religious affiliation. It is estimated that 15% of Tanzanians follow animist beliefs; 40% are Muslim; 45% are Christian, mostly Roman Catholic and Lutheran. They live together in relative harmony. It is possible!

Here’s a picture of the main lodge:

We had no special plans for the day and so went back to sleep. We had breakfast at the lodge and took a hike around the grounds. Rivertrees sits on the edge of a river, and the area is lush, green and subtropical. Birds are everywhere. I wish I knew more about birds. Perhaps some day when I have more time….Anyway, there are birders all over the property with spotting scopes and cameras. Not a one of them is a day under 70, so I guess I’ve got time to learn. The walk along the river is rustic and beautiful. The little wooden bridges across the streams have missing spans and creak when you walk across them. We are told that there are monkeys on the property but we have not seen them yet. We have seen squirrels, or something like them. Genene has made friends with Mickey, the caretaker’s dog. They are in America right now, and Mickey gets shipped out to Europe in a few weeks to meet up with them. In the meantime, he wanders the grounds, spoiled rotten by everyone. The staff gave Genene a leash and encouraged her to make him walk all around the grounds. She was only too happy to do so.

Genene and Mickey:

Genene down by the river:

Another view of the river:

The vegetable garden had an interesting scarecrow:

Our cabin:

It took us a while to see Mount Kilimanjaro. It’s called the “shy mountain” because it is frequently covered by clouds. We could make out the barest snow cap on it after a gardener helped us understand what to look for.

We had a wonderful lunch on the grounds. Genene made friends with the cook, and he let her help him make pizzas.

Making pizza:

In the afternoon, Genene and I got massages while Greg took some exercise. The massage was heavenly. I walked the grounds wearing nothing but a robe and was led into a tent with a massage table and huge stone tub. I got 50 minutes of Swedish massage and a nice hot bath. That reminds me: hot water is something of a commodity, even at a resort. The water pressure is fairly low. The commode has one of those European two-button set-ups, but only the big button gets you any kind of flush. We brush our teeth with bottled water and try to be careful not to get any of the tap water into our mouths. So far, so good.

We are in a compound of sorts, completely fenced and gated, with security at the perimeter. The main road is just over the fence, and we have seen all kinds of traffic on it. Old motorcycles, a goat herder and herd, people walking, cars and vans flying by….all manner of humanity. It’s an interesting show.

This evening, we saw a huge owl in the trees. Minutes later, we finally saw a monkey.

The sun is gone, and we are about to have dinner. It has been a good day.

Until tomorrow…..

Posted with Blogsy

Thursday

I was too busy trying to cram in all the last minute details to do any blogging, so I am writing this final blog from the plane.

I got up very early and made a last run down to the ATM. I had it in my mind to do some panning shots with the camera on the way back. I had a vision of seeing Gregory Peck on a green, white and red Vespa (never mind the small detail that he is dead) and stopping him while keeping the background blurry, creating that feeling of movement. Well, let me tell you that the Vespas don't come by on cue, and even when you do fnd a scooter rider, they think you are weird when they see you panning them with your camera.

These three are the best panning shots I could do. I will keep practicing! I like the guy in his little green three wheeled truck best.

Jose came to give Genene a sketching lesson early in the morning. He brought her a gift of a beautiful set of coloring pencils, some quality paper, and a clipboard. He explained to her how important it was to use good paper. Good pencils like good paper. Their lesson gave Greg and me the perfect opportunity to get our things packed. Genene and Jose spent the first hour in the living room, making a sketch from an oil painting on the wall. I heard Jose telling her several times, “And now I'm going to show you a little secret.” They spent the second hour on the rooftop terrace, sketching a church dome. Genene soaked it up like sponge.

Between packing, I also stared out the window of the terrace. I watched an artist creating an image of Jesus in colored chalk on the plaza in front of the church across the street from us, Sant'Andrea delle Fratte.

I could not make out whether the artist was a man, but I think he was, in spite of the braided pony tail. A beggar woman (perhaps his wife) and her young child sat in the doorway of the church, waiting for people to put money in their basket. Using my telephoto lens, I captured mother and son in an unguarded, tender moment.

At the end of two hours, Genene and Jose came down off the terrace hot and sweaty. I have never seen Genene so proud of herself. With Jose's kind instruction, she had produced a wonderful little colored sketch of San Carlo.

We said our goodbyes to Jose. We gave him the cheeses and olives out of our refrigerator that we would not have time to eat. We shook hands, hugged and kissed him goodbye. I tried not to cry. Genene immediately said that she was going to miss him. We went out to the terrace to see if we could wave one last goodbye, but he was lost to us in the winding Roman streets. Thank goodness for email. We will stay in touch.

On the last day of any vacation, we try not to do anything radical or new. We use it as a chance to revisit favorites for the last time. We went downstairs and got a last sandwich from the shop. We thanked the people there for being so nice to us and said our goodbyes.

We went souvenir shopping all around our neighborhood. Genene and I enjoyed walking in the streets and into the shops.

Greg wanted a new belt for his birthday. I was thinking that he might want to go to a fancy shop on Via Condotti, but he found a leather store on Tritone and in ten minutes had his belt picked out, cut and fit to size, paid for and done. He's no fun when it comes to shopping! Genene got a Pinocchio hand puppet and she was done. We stopped back by the apartment for a refreshing Coke. I had more shopping to do, so I left Greg napping and Genene making Pinocchio dance.

I went back out to finish the souvenir shopping and to satisfy a curiousity. After going to Castel Sant'Angelo and the bridge, I did some reading about it on the magic internet (thanks, Al Gore). I read that Bernini's “Angel with the Crown of Thorns” on the Ponte Sant'Angelo bridge was actually a copy. It is one of the most artistically significant of the angels, as it is said to be the artist's self-portrait. The internet said that the original was in Sant'Andrea delle Fratte!!! This is the church right across the street from our apartment. I mentioned this to Jose, but he did not know about it and said I should go check it out. He advised me to just stroll into the church like “you know what you are doing.” I did. The Bernini was under our noses all along!!

Exhiliarated by “finding” a Bernini original right in the hood, I came back out into the sunlight and finished my stroll. I found Greg and Genene awake when I returned. We sat on the terrace for a while, and Genene sketched the bell tower of Sant'Andrea while Greg had a beer and I drank a glass of wine. She was so proud of her work that she made me take a photo of it and email it to Jose, who immediately responded and told her that he would cherish the photo. How sweet!

We got ready for the passeggiata and dinner. We passed by our regular gelato shop, and the young man behind the counter called out to Genene, “Ciao, bella!” We loved this young man. He was a dead ringer for Mr. Bean and knew it. He would dish out the gelato while doing his imitation, much to Genene's delight. Sadly, that “Ciao, Bella!” was to be the last thing we said to each other. We had intended to come back for gelato later that evening but stayed too long at dinner and returned to find his shop shuttered. We will have to come back another time. We've all thrown coins in the Trevi Fountain, so we know we will be back someday.

We strolled to Pietro al Pantheon for our last dinner out. Of all the restaurants we had been, we liked this one best. It was quaint, two tables wide, with real Italian charm and house red wine by the liter, served cool in a pitcher.

They recognized us and greeted us very warmly. We got same waiter, who took good care of us. Greg was going to order some fried artichokes and he looked conspiratorily at Greg and put a finger to his lips and shook his head “no”. We took his hint and had the fried zucchini flowers, and they were the best we had in Rome. Toward the end of the meal, the old lady came out from the back and greeted Genene warmly and introduced us all to her grown daughter. We ate like kings and queens and met the family. What more could you want?

We strolled back by the Trevi Fountain one last time. All of us had taken turns throwing coins into the fountain (more than once) so there was no need to do more than blow it a kiss, watch the crowds for a minute and keep walking.

It was about 11:30 PM, and we were amazed at how quiet the streets were. I don't know if there is some particular reason why Thursday should be a quieter night, or perhaps we were out just a little later than usual. Anyway, it was nice to stroll along without being pushed or shoved. There were still plenty of people around so it felt safe, but it was no longer crowded.

Of course, we headed down to the Spanish Steps. We found a gelato shop there that was still open and sat down to eat the cold, creamy dessert on the steps. It seemed that most of the people on the steps were young Americans. What fun it would be to be young and in Rome for the summer! Even the pesky street vendors had slowed down some. We only got a couple of offers to buy things, and no one tried to force a flower into my hand. It was nice.

Genene sketched an open window she saw from across the piazza.

We sat on the steps and waited for the clock to strike midnight so we could wish Greg a happy birthday. He turned 60 years old sitting there on those steps. We've all had worse birthdays than that.

We strolled back to our apartment and went to bed. It was a perfect end to a perfect day.

Friday

Our driver arrived early and was waiting for us at the front doorstep. He drove us straight up Janiculum Hill, and we realized we had never been there. Fourteen days in Rome, and we only scratched its surface. When we booked this trip, we wondered if we were staying too long. Now I know that we could never see it all.

We did not have access to a printer in our apartment so we tried to use the British Airways app to put boarding passes on our iPhones. After much effort, Greg and I managed to get ours on the phone, but we never could get Genene's pass to appear. Just as we got to the front of the line, Greg's phone locked up and he could not get his boarding pass retrieved. Ultimately we asked the nice lady to print all of our boarding passes, since she had to print Genene's anyway. Paper doesn't run out of batteries or crash.

The airport in Rome is sprawling and we had to take a train to get to our gate. Along the way, we had to go through a passport control area and clear security. Still, we made it to the gate in plenty of time, only to find that our gate did not have any British Airways flights leaving from it. We looked around for a bit and found that they had moved us over one gate, so we made our way over. The gate area was not adequate for the numbers of people that use it. There probably were not more than 50 chairs, and there were hundreds of people waiting for the plane. People were sprawled out on the floors. After a while, our flight disappeared off the gate sign, and another later British Airways flight appeared in its place. We thought, what now? A man at the gate told everyone “not to worry,” and that this would be our gate. I couldn't relax until about 20 minutes later when they opened the gate and put the right flight on it. That all seemed very confusing to me. Jose had commented upon those kinds of quirks several times during our tour. For instance, once we went into a practically empty parking lot, and the electronic sign board marked it as “full.” Lino and Jose had chuckled and said, “Welcome to Italy.”

After the initial confusion, our flight went off without a hitch and arrived at London's Heathrow on time. We only had an hour to make our connection. One of our experienced traveling friends had warned us not to do this, while another friend who is also familiar with Heathrow said we could hitch up our skirts and get it done. The tight connection suited us in terms of total travel time so we had gambled. It worked on the way over. We prepared our gear and told Genene that we would be running through the airport. Turns out we need not have worried. When we got into the terminal, a man from British Airways was waiting for us holding up a sign with our flight number and Houston on it. I spotted him immediately and he said, “Three of you then? Gordons and Aylett. How easy was that?” We had our own personal tourguide through Heathrow. He shepherded us through the entire process from the entry gate and fasttracked us through security and to our gate. British Airway's service was impressive, and we made our connection in plenty of time.

Our flight from London to Houston was uneventful, but I have never in my life been on a plane with more screaming babies. We were surrounded! We counted nine in the seat rows directly in front and back of us. One in front bellowed her lungs out without ceasing, and a toddler just behind me made a game of straightening his new little legs while bracing them on my seat. No one seems to be in a hurry to change diapers any more either. That one baffles me. I will never win “Mother of the Year,” but I NEVER let Genene sit around in a stinking diaper.

Our flight landed in Houston 15 minutes early. We made it through immigration and customs very efficiently, and our cab driver had us at our door by 8:00 PM. From the time we left the apartment in Rome to the time we hit our front door, 18 1/2 hours had elapsed. We were beat. Genene has already gone to bed, and we are eating some bean soup thoughtfully left for us by Greg's sister. As much fun as it has been, it will be nice to sleep in our own bed again. As Dorothy says, “There's no place like home.”

PARTING THOUGHTS

I have had fun sharing the photos, and I am really glad that Santa brought this new camera. I am still learning how to use it, but it is a vast improvement over my old point-and-shoot. Best of all, learning a few things about how to adjust the camera gave me a lot more flexibility in terms of getting the shot.

For those of you camera nerds, I want to share one “best buy.” Before the trip, I bought a Black-Rapid R Strap, the RS-5 cargo strap. It is the best thing I got for this trip. It's a thick wide strap. The fastener screws into the tripod socket on the camera, so that the camera hangs upside down with the lens pointing down. The strap is worn across the shoulder, so that it goes over your right shoulder and the camera hangs at your left arm just at or below the waist (or you can set it up the other way if you're a righty). It makes the camera virtually impossible to steal. It is right at your fingertips, and the weight is very evenly distributed across your shoulder so that you can carry it all day. Best of all, there is room for other things on the strap. It has a pouch big enough for an iPhone. There are two zipper pockets that are roomy enough to hold credit cards, money, an extra camera battery and an extra memory card. Most of the time, this is the only thing I left the apartment carrying. I did not carry a purse because everything was right in the strap. It's a very handy thing to have, and I highly recommend it.

The best gift we gave ourselves during the trip was getting the guidance of Jose. I know I have been singing his praises, but I want to do so one last time. He is a patient, kind teacher. He knows the tricks and and the traps to avoid and got us through every place with a minimum of waiting or standing in line. He clearly loves Rome and wants to show the beautiful city to everyone. His passion is evident. He had something to give to each of us. He made the myths come alive for Genene. He showed me some of the most beautiful works of art that have been produced by man. He showed Greg beautiful works of nature. He is a man of many interests and talents, and if you ever want a fabulous guide in Rome, you should check him and his work out here.

We tried to do a lot more on this trip than we usually do. I think my blogs suffered as a consequence. We saw so much in a day that I just did not have the time or energy to write it down. I hope I can read more about the things I saw later so I can put it all together in my mind. A few thousand years of history is hard to fathom or process…in two weeks or in a lifetime.

I will give my standard disclaimer about the blog. I usually write them at night when Greg and Genene are watching TV or in bed, and many times the blogs suffer from a lack of good editing. I reread a couple of them after posting and saw gross spelling errors and grammar problems. I promise that I do know the difference between a statue and a statute. I use a lot more of one of them than the other at work, so my fingers naturally want to type statute. I apologize for the errors and hope you will overlook them. I write the blogs as a way of sharing with my friends and family and as a way for Genene to remember. Mostly, I write them for myself. On a bad day at work, I can dust one off and read it and be transported.

Rick Steves writes in his Europe Through the Back Door, “Travel is intensified living, maximum thrills per minute and one of the last great sources of legal adventure. Travel is freedom. It's recess and we need it.” I agree wholeheartedly.

Thanks for coming with me to Rome.

Ciao!

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