Month: July 2023

I was repotting a water plant after dinner, which had outgrown its pot and was leaning sideways into the water. It was not an easy task; it’s stalks had dug in deep and seemed as strong as iron. I managed to pull it apart into three clumps and nestle them deep in the dirt in a bigger pot. It took quite a bit of muscle to maneuver the pot to the edge of the pond and then shimmy it down the rocks, letting it come to rest on the bed of the pond. Hopefully it will be happy and continue to thrive.

I was preparing to come back inside for the night, but I just couldn’t bear to shut the door on this perfect evening. A gentle breeze rustled the trees, and the temperature was a comfortable and dry 82 degrees. The crickets had begun to chirp, and kids shrieked and laughed a few houses away.

It reminded me of summers on my street when I was a kid. Some evenings, my dad would walk out the front door with running shorts and a tee shirt, sneakers laced up. I would drop whatever I was doing – Chinese jump rope, hopscotch, tag (but maybe not roller skating) – and beg him to wait for me while I got my sneakers on.

I was the only daughter interested in running, and I took great pride in taking off at his side down the street and disappearing around the bend for the two-mile run around our neighborhood and the adjacent one. Running those miles with him made me feel strong and capable.

I craved a taste of that tonight, so I laced up my running shoes and set off down my own street alone (neither of my kids are remotely interested in running). The surroundings are very different, but the sounds of kids playing and crickets chirping, and the sight of fireflies appearing toward the end of the run, brought me right back to those warm evenings in the early 80’s.

I’ll have to call him tomorrow and tell him I ran with him in spirit.

I am adjusting to being home and trying to be productive, but a regular routine evades me. Summer shouldn’t be rigid, but I know myself, and if I don’t have some sort of routine to stick to, I end up wasting time, which puts me in a bad mood.

Chris’s parents just left this morning, and we have other guests coming in Friday night and staying until Monday morning, so I do have excuses for being a little off my game. However, I have a plan. I was about to make myself a to-do list for tomorrow, when I stumbled across an old list I made of things to include in my daily life:

It’s a good list, a list worth sticking to. I see you, lonely guitar in the corner. Sorry it’s been so long.

I’ve managed to stay up all day in an effort to adjust quickly to the time. Since we arrived at Dulles this morning at 5AM, I’ve done five loads of laundry, grocery shopped, unpacked, repotted a plant, done some light weeding, and made dinner.

It’s just about night-night time for me.

On our last day in Cape Town, Stan drove us around town to see a few more sights. Our first stop was a neighborhood that has been designated a world heritage site, Bo-Kaap, which means “walk up” in Dutch. It consists of cobblestone and paved streets lined with small homes painted various bright colors. It was the former slave quarters, and now the houses go for about 10 million rand, which is about $500,000.

Stan also took us to see the Castle of Good Hope, the first building in Cape Town, built in 1652 by the Dutch. They meted out some pretty awful punishments, based on what we saw in the torture room and cells. People used to gather on a blankets and bring a picnic to watch corporal punishment in the town square. I guess we have progressed somewhat.

Now we’re on the plane for our 15 hour journey home. I’m all traveled out and ready to be home. I miss the kitties!

Today was wine estate day, so I’m a little fuzzy-headed as I write this, especially since Chris insisted we stop at the brewery next door to the second wine tasting stop we made. Since it was the first IPA we’d seen advertised the whole trip, we had to stop. Lagers are plentiful; IPA’s are like the sable antelope.

We started our day by stopping in a charming little town called Franschhoek, which is Dutch for “French corner.” It does indeed feel like a French town. Huguenots had fled the French Catholics and settled there, hence the name.

After browsing the outdoor market and walking up and down the very short main street, we drove through the campus of Stellenbosch University, whose buildings are in the Cape Dutch style of architecture. About 30,000 students are enrolled, including our guide’s daughter.

Our first wine stop was Muratie Stellenbosch Estate. This place was special because it’s so old, and they are not allowed to change anything about the original building. They even haven’t cleaned the cobwebs off the windows since the 1970’s.

The second stop is our guide’s favorite wine estate in the area, Fairview Estate. Deirdre is extremely knowledgeable and guided us through different wines with cheese pairings. Wine always tastes better this way, and we bought four bottles to take home with us.

We went for a drive along the coast today, the Cape of Good Hope being our farthest destination. Contrary to popular belief, this is not where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet; because of shifting currents, they actually meet Cape Agulhas, which is about 150 miles east of the Cape Peninsula.

We stopped in beautiful neighborhoods along the coves. Some towns are in conservation neighborhoods, which means they have to follow strict guidelines because they either border or are located within national parks.

Signs warning not to feed the baboons and that they are dangerous wild animals dot the scenic coastal road. In an effort to protect people from baboons and the baboons from violent retaliation, people are actually hired to shoot them with paintball guns if they come into neighborhoods from the hills. They can be very destructive, and the aloha males can get violent. These people are easily identifiable because they wear green and carry large, well, paintball guns.

We reached the southernmost tip of the continent and then hiked up a trail along the ridge and up toward the old lighthouse. Stunning views of the ocean greeted us at every turn. We spotted several huge eland antelopes in the distance, the largest antelopes in existence, bigger than cows.

We continued around the coast to the eastern side of the cape and stopped for lunch in Simonstown, an aging, quaint village that also hosts the navy with its one and only submarine. This is also the place to view the protected African penguins. It’s mating season, and we got to see young chicks begging for food from their mamas, some of whom had already outgrown their mothers but continue to follow them around chirping incessantly at them and poking their beaks. The males brayed at each other to announce their presence and territory.

It’s been another stunning day at the Cape.

This city really is breathtaking. It’s kind of like San Francisco times 10.

We began the day by taking the cable car up to the top of Table Mountain. Chris and I would’ve preferred to do the three to four-hour hike, but his parents were not down with that. Next time.

The views are stunning. Sections of the city are scattered like little blocks and beads all around the mountain 3500 feet below. Whales breached off the coast, and Robben Island sat flat and quiet about four and half miles from shore, where Nelson Mandela’s prison cell held him for 18 years.

After being blasted by frigid mountain air and unforgettable views for over an hour, we headed back down the mountain and across town to the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden.

The garden is home to 7000 plant species, 450 species of trees, rare plants, a conservatory, and an art gallery. We could’ve stayed all day. Maxine has decided she wants to get married there. She’s actually decided she wants to live in Cape Town if the next election goes well and things turn around. It’s a bit too far for my comfort.

We had a late lunch at the waterfront, and then the parents and kids caught an Uber back to the hotel while Chris and I meandered back on foot. We’ll be leaving soon for a home-hosted dinner. It’s been another full day in Southern Africa.

Cape Town Harbor

Flying into Cape Town is quite a sight: green farmland, mountains cutting through a city, and wild ocean.

We said goodbye to the other seven travelers, plus Clyde, our fearless guide, and boarded the plane to Cape Town from Victoria Falls this afternoon. The ladies from the Carolinas are taking an overnight flight tonight back home, and the other family is coming here via Johannesburg, but I don’t expect to see them.

We were met at the airport by Stanton (Stan) our new guide for just several days. He took us on a walk around the neighborhood after we checked in to the hotel, and I just kept gawking at the dramatic landscape. The mountains tower over two sides of the city, and clouds were swiftly rolling out to reveal large patches of blue.

Colonial-era churches sit stoicly on block corners as club music pumps from bars and restaurants. The Dutch and British colonized South Africa at various points from the late 1600’s through the mid-1960’s, so their influence on architecture is everywhere.

Stan filled us in on when and where not to go at night, as well as how utterly corrupt the ruling party is and how much of the country’s infrastructure has fallen apart since Nelson Mandela. They rely heavily on tourism as their fourth largest industry.

Time to get some shut eye in order to be fresh for an early morning start.

Today was the rare day on this trip when you could choose your own adventure. Chris and Edwin went to a rhino preserve so they could check off the last of the “Big Five” (African buffalo, lion, leopard, elephant, and rhino) and came back not only having seen six rhinos but also with a crazy lion story. Others chose the elephant sanctuary, where they got to get up close and personal with elephants who had been orphaned and raised in captivity. Maxine wanted the bridge tour and zip line over the gorge. I really wanted elephants, but I deferred to her.

A forty-something-year-old Zambian man played the part of Georges C Imbault, the French engineer who had been appointed Chief Construction Engineer of the Victoria Falls Bridge in 1903. He was very convincing but it was pretty funny because Maxine and I were the only people in the audience. As we carabined under the bridge with him after an introduction and a zip line ride, we learned a great deal about its construction and maintenance. Whenever we asked him a question, he would slip out of character to answer and then go right back to being 138-year-old Georges, who was holding up darn well.

For our final group dinner, we went on a sunset cruise along the Zambezi River for sundown and then ate dinner after coming ashore. As we finished eating and went around the table and shared our favorite moments and aspects of the trip, a lion roared in the distance and four elephants passed through the picnic area. I am definitely leaving a piece of my heart here in Africa.

Not having sand in my shoes or having to worry about using up all the solar-heated hot water is nice, but I miss elephant trumpets and the occasional lion roar in the night.

We’re here at Shearwaters Explorers Village Hotel in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe for the next two nights. We walked the trial along the falls this afternoon, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the seven natural wonders of the world. Dr. Livingstone, the Scottish explorer, named the falls to honor Queen Victoria, but the Zimbabweans call it Mosi-Oa-Tunya, which means “smoke that thunders.” Thunder it does; I wore a raincoat and still got pretty wet.

The travel company arranged for us to eat with a host family for dinner (which means they compensated them well for their trouble). The six of us went by to the home of Felistas and Charles, where they live with their extended family of children, grandchildren and cousins. We had baobob juice and orange juice mixed together to drink and mopani worms and peanuts for an appetizer, followed by polenta, rice with peanut butter, hake, chicken, and beets for the main course. For dessert, we had ice cream with a fruit pudding (I need to find out the name – I forgot).

They were so warm and welcoming, and we talked about health care, education, marriage and dating customs. Maxine and Edwin helped serve the food with the other teens and after dinner joined in for a few dances with Tanya, Method, Sandra, and little Rulula. Felistas told us the story of how she literally fled on foot from the war in the 1970’s, 100 km from her town to Victoria Falls, where her aunt took in her and her siblings, as well as a boy who had no family here.

Its strangely quiet here without any wild animal sounds.