Anyone who has been following my blog may have been disappointed by the lack of a concluding post. Well, better late than never, so here it is.
Our final week was spent in Marrakesh, the urban cultural heart of Morocco. Many of the events that filled these last days have already begun to fade into imperfect recollections ... this is less likely because they were unremarkable than they have been overshadowed by the grand finale that has since dominated my memories.
After an (admittedly tiring) 5 month existence as dirty and penny-pinching nomads, we treated ourselves to two final nights of comfort in the trendy, yet thoroughly Moroccan Riad Akka. We celebrated our last night with a deliciously extravagant dinner complete with Moroccan wine and belly dancers. Unbeknownst to me, the night's highlight (actually, the trip's highlight to be precise) was yet to come. Back at the riad, Russell concluded the night with a question that stunned me through and through and flooded me with girly, giddy excitement with the thought of a lifetime together.
So if you haven't yet figured it out, we are engaged!!!!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
America the beautiful?
Now that our trip is quickly wrapping up, I realize that one of the most fascinating and eye-opening aspects of our experience has been the variable responses people give after learning that we're from the U.S. Whether these destinations don't see many Americans or we just don't perfectly fit the American stereotype, I can't be sure; but for some reason there's almost always a dominant element of surprise in the reaction. Then after this initial shock ... the fun begins.
Starting east in Japan and China, our interactions with locals were unfortunately minimal, probably a combined result of language barriers and relatively reserved cultures. However, as we've migrated westward communication has become increasingly free and frequent, notably in Egypt and Morocco. Here in Morocco, after several incorrect guesses of "Français? Allemand? Anglais?" our "Non, Américain" is frequently greeted with "Vous êtes les bienvenus!" (You are welcome!) But it's hard not to cringe when this is followed, all too often, by "Great country" or "America - number one", always delivered with a poorly concealed tone of sarcasm. Alternatively, they'll immediately guess that we're from New York, California, Washington or whatever other U.S. location they've heard of. The other night we even got a curious "What part of America? Canada?".
Equally common is the politically based response. If the international community had any say in American politics, Bush would have been impeached long ago and Obama would be a shoe-in for November. Sometimes the first and only comment we hear from taxi drivers, shopkeepers, etc. are some variant of "Bush - very bad" or an anticipatory "Obama will win?!" Russell has a great pic of a typical Tanzanian painting and accompanying graffiti promoting "Obama for president" (yes, you should definitely pressure him to post it on Flicker). Just last night, while wandering through the night festivities at Djemaa el Fna in Marrakesh, we stumbled across a vendor selling a toy "911" figurine set of Bush in a tank in hot military pursuit of Bin Laden.
Three particular experiences come to mind that exemplify the unpredictable and often entertaining global impressions of American society that we've encountered ...
America .... It's not America
Considering the financial obstacles and immigration restrictions our country imposes, a visit to the U.S. is an impractical dream for much of the non-Western world. We recently met one Moroccan who had somehow (don't ask how he managed to get a visa) just returned from an extended trip to California, Arizona and New York. His overall impressions seemed positive, as he loved San Francisco and San Diego and likened Arizona to M'Hamid, the desert village he calls home. Great - one point for the states! However, the sadly amusing part of the encounter was his interpretation that California and Arizona "are not America". Since his positive experiences in these states were incongruous with his expectations, he reasoned that these states must be the anomaly, rather than the stereotype being faulty.
America ... racist and perverse
Morocco seems to have a disproportionate number of male students, many impressively in touch with - or at least interested in - western culture. The receptionist at our hotel in Ourzazate, a college student of American society, is one example of education gone wrong. Throughout the course of our conversation, he eagerly shared his expertise on America's one-dimensional attitude towards foreigners. Namely, we don't like them. Apparently, we would like nothing better than to completely close our borders to all immigrants and would never welcome visitors with the same hospitality and tolerance extended by Moroccans (okay, so maybe this isn't entirely off). He continued with a disturbingly fascinated inquiry into ... surrogacy of all things. He had learned the term in the context of American culture and despite our explanation otherwise, believed it to be a common practice in the states, where love, sex and marriage are bound by no rules.
America ... seriously?! No way!
In the village near Todra Gorge, where we passed two wonderful days, word spreads fast and even tourists cannot remain strangers for long. For example, in a shared taxi ride our second day, the driver and two of the four other passengers were men we had met on prior occasions. By consequence of his limited French skills, the driver had assumed we were French and, although not unfriendly, treated us with relative indifference. Just as we were preparing to leave the taxi he learned from another passenger than we were not in fact French, but American. He immediately burst into excited chatter and became an instant friend. American?! What time did we need a ride to the bus station tomorrow? He would pick us up from our hotel. Did we email? We must exchange email addresses. Misunderstanding my apology for not having small change as a statement that I was poor, he graciously tried to refuse payment for our ride to the gorge. In so many countries our nationality has been synonymous with expendable wealth, to which many feel naturally entitled. But this man was somehow blind to the image of American riches and embraced us with a fundamentally human welcome and understanding ... Almost too much for my jaded traveller's mind to grasp.
Starting east in Japan and China, our interactions with locals were unfortunately minimal, probably a combined result of language barriers and relatively reserved cultures. However, as we've migrated westward communication has become increasingly free and frequent, notably in Egypt and Morocco. Here in Morocco, after several incorrect guesses of "Français? Allemand? Anglais?" our "Non, Américain" is frequently greeted with "Vous êtes les bienvenus!" (You are welcome!) But it's hard not to cringe when this is followed, all too often, by "Great country" or "America - number one", always delivered with a poorly concealed tone of sarcasm. Alternatively, they'll immediately guess that we're from New York, California, Washington or whatever other U.S. location they've heard of. The other night we even got a curious "What part of America? Canada?".
Equally common is the politically based response. If the international community had any say in American politics, Bush would have been impeached long ago and Obama would be a shoe-in for November. Sometimes the first and only comment we hear from taxi drivers, shopkeepers, etc. are some variant of "Bush - very bad" or an anticipatory "Obama will win?!" Russell has a great pic of a typical Tanzanian painting and accompanying graffiti promoting "Obama for president" (yes, you should definitely pressure him to post it on Flicker). Just last night, while wandering through the night festivities at Djemaa el Fna in Marrakesh, we stumbled across a vendor selling a toy "911" figurine set of Bush in a tank in hot military pursuit of Bin Laden.
Three particular experiences come to mind that exemplify the unpredictable and often entertaining global impressions of American society that we've encountered ...
America .... It's not America
Considering the financial obstacles and immigration restrictions our country imposes, a visit to the U.S. is an impractical dream for much of the non-Western world. We recently met one Moroccan who had somehow (don't ask how he managed to get a visa) just returned from an extended trip to California, Arizona and New York. His overall impressions seemed positive, as he loved San Francisco and San Diego and likened Arizona to M'Hamid, the desert village he calls home. Great - one point for the states! However, the sadly amusing part of the encounter was his interpretation that California and Arizona "are not America". Since his positive experiences in these states were incongruous with his expectations, he reasoned that these states must be the anomaly, rather than the stereotype being faulty.
America ... racist and perverse
Morocco seems to have a disproportionate number of male students, many impressively in touch with - or at least interested in - western culture. The receptionist at our hotel in Ourzazate, a college student of American society, is one example of education gone wrong. Throughout the course of our conversation, he eagerly shared his expertise on America's one-dimensional attitude towards foreigners. Namely, we don't like them. Apparently, we would like nothing better than to completely close our borders to all immigrants and would never welcome visitors with the same hospitality and tolerance extended by Moroccans (okay, so maybe this isn't entirely off). He continued with a disturbingly fascinated inquiry into ... surrogacy of all things. He had learned the term in the context of American culture and despite our explanation otherwise, believed it to be a common practice in the states, where love, sex and marriage are bound by no rules.
America ... seriously?! No way!
In the village near Todra Gorge, where we passed two wonderful days, word spreads fast and even tourists cannot remain strangers for long. For example, in a shared taxi ride our second day, the driver and two of the four other passengers were men we had met on prior occasions. By consequence of his limited French skills, the driver had assumed we were French and, although not unfriendly, treated us with relative indifference. Just as we were preparing to leave the taxi he learned from another passenger than we were not in fact French, but American. He immediately burst into excited chatter and became an instant friend. American?! What time did we need a ride to the bus station tomorrow? He would pick us up from our hotel. Did we email? We must exchange email addresses. Misunderstanding my apology for not having small change as a statement that I was poor, he graciously tried to refuse payment for our ride to the gorge. In so many countries our nationality has been synonymous with expendable wealth, to which many feel naturally entitled. But this man was somehow blind to the image of American riches and embraced us with a fundamentally human welcome and understanding ... Almost too much for my jaded traveller's mind to grasp.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
du Maroc
I've just returned from a morning run through Todra Gorge, along a magnificent route beneath towering rocky cliffs and past the occasional goat herd. (No, there's no internet here ... I actually pre-date those rare posts composed in remote deserts, mountains, etc.) Naturally, my blood is filled with endorphins and my mind with awe. It's day six in Morocco and I don't know where to begin with the multitude of reasons I love this country. In all honesty, when we arrived from Egypt traveler's fatigue had set in deeply and the task of adapting to yet another country felt more daunting than usual. But my weariness has been successfully abolished by the warmest of welcomes and the richness of Moroccan culture.
This country has a definite advantage over the previous six we've visited in gaining my favor: they speak French. For the first time I need not rely on others' knowledge of English and can finally communicate in their - almost - native tongue. (Arabic is the official and most widely spoken language, which I tragically do not speak.) Not only is it just pure fun to revive my dormant French skills, but everything is rendered much more pleasant when coated in a French accent. The cries of "Où allez-vous?" and "Qu'est-ce que vous cherchez?" fail to annoy like their English equivalents.
Relative to most of the countries from which we've come, Morocco is an absolute oasis of beauty, cleanliness and kindness. On one level, the colors and intricacies of the majestic mosques and riads are aesthetic wonders. This architectural beauty is complemented by the stunning mountains, desserts - and now - this unearthly gorge! But undoubtedly Morocco's greatest asset is its people. I can confidently say that we've been befriended by more locals here than during the entire rest of our travels. On countless occasions has a friendly "Bonjour" evolved into an extended chat session with young locals about travel, music, work, you name it - always accompanied by a generous offering of thé à la menthe (or whisky berbère as they affectionately call it). In refreshing contrast to similar experiences outside Morocco, only one such encounter here was spawned by a subtle sales pitch for some camel hair rugs and cactus silk linens. As a friend from the gorge put it, "Il y a des hommes et des omelettes". By staying open and resisting those omelette tendencies, I've discovered ample opportunities to make a friend, glimpse into "real" Moroccan life and of course, refine my rusty French conversation skills.
This country has a definite advantage over the previous six we've visited in gaining my favor: they speak French. For the first time I need not rely on others' knowledge of English and can finally communicate in their - almost - native tongue. (Arabic is the official and most widely spoken language, which I tragically do not speak.) Not only is it just pure fun to revive my dormant French skills, but everything is rendered much more pleasant when coated in a French accent. The cries of "Où allez-vous?" and "Qu'est-ce que vous cherchez?" fail to annoy like their English equivalents.
Relative to most of the countries from which we've come, Morocco is an absolute oasis of beauty, cleanliness and kindness. On one level, the colors and intricacies of the majestic mosques and riads are aesthetic wonders. This architectural beauty is complemented by the stunning mountains, desserts - and now - this unearthly gorge! But undoubtedly Morocco's greatest asset is its people. I can confidently say that we've been befriended by more locals here than during the entire rest of our travels. On countless occasions has a friendly "Bonjour" evolved into an extended chat session with young locals about travel, music, work, you name it - always accompanied by a generous offering of thé à la menthe (or whisky berbère as they affectionately call it). In refreshing contrast to similar experiences outside Morocco, only one such encounter here was spawned by a subtle sales pitch for some camel hair rugs and cactus silk linens. As a friend from the gorge put it, "Il y a des hommes et des omelettes". By staying open and resisting those omelette tendencies, I've discovered ample opportunities to make a friend, glimpse into "real" Moroccan life and of course, refine my rusty French conversation skills.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Jekyll and Hyde
Luxor is a moody city to say the least and over the course of the past five days we've witnessed both faces of her personality. Take yesterday for instance. We began the morning with a ferry ride to the west bank to meet our taxi driver, Said, for day two of temple and tomb-viewing. Along the way we were approached by flocks of Said's "brothers", "cousins" and "uncles" advising us that Said would be unable to meet us, but they were happy to be his replacement driver for a good price. Oh so sneaky and cutthroat! To no surprise, Said was waiting to greet us across the Nile, true to his word, with a big smile and heart of gold. Despite knowing minimal English he worked hard to communicate and welcome us to his city and his taxi 291. He expressed his kindness by ensuring cheap cold water and Coke, pointing out the many commission-based alabaster shops not to patronize and inviting us to his home for lunch. He even concluded our memorable two-day sight-seeing expedition with a gift of a small alabaster statue.
The evening presented no less contrast between the beautiful and the ugly corners of the Egyptian spirit. After dinner and sunset, when the city awakens and emerges from hiding from the scorching heat, we headed to the midan overlooking the illuminated Luxor Temple for some people watching. A young boy approached us to display his collection of foreign coins in request for a new exotic addition. As he neither appeared to be trained with the usual tourist-trapping English phrases nor had the persistence of most begging children, we gladly gave him a stray Indian rupee. This was not only enough to satisfy and please him, but also to pique the curiosity of his family picnicking on the grass across the square. After several shy glances and smiles, his sister and mother (?) ran over to graciously offer us sweet rolls and hurriedly rushed away. The events that unfolded next were in such contrast to this family's generosity and gratitude to verge on amusing absurdity. Seeing the luck this first boy had at getting money from us, a crew of street boys swarmed and begged with feigned misery and almost admirable perseverance. Naive Americans that we are, we made the mistake of giving a single coin (50 Tanzanian shillings) to share between 8 or so boys. There was no hint of appreciation is these boys' response. Rather, a hideous and thoroughly disheartening scene erupted as the enraged 10-year old mob shouted, hit and tackled one another to attain the prize - valued at a mere 20 cents. Dog. Eat. Dog.
The evening presented no less contrast between the beautiful and the ugly corners of the Egyptian spirit. After dinner and sunset, when the city awakens and emerges from hiding from the scorching heat, we headed to the midan overlooking the illuminated Luxor Temple for some people watching. A young boy approached us to display his collection of foreign coins in request for a new exotic addition. As he neither appeared to be trained with the usual tourist-trapping English phrases nor had the persistence of most begging children, we gladly gave him a stray Indian rupee. This was not only enough to satisfy and please him, but also to pique the curiosity of his family picnicking on the grass across the square. After several shy glances and smiles, his sister and mother (?) ran over to graciously offer us sweet rolls and hurriedly rushed away. The events that unfolded next were in such contrast to this family's generosity and gratitude to verge on amusing absurdity. Seeing the luck this first boy had at getting money from us, a crew of street boys swarmed and begged with feigned misery and almost admirable perseverance. Naive Americans that we are, we made the mistake of giving a single coin (50 Tanzanian shillings) to share between 8 or so boys. There was no hint of appreciation is these boys' response. Rather, a hideous and thoroughly disheartening scene erupted as the enraged 10-year old mob shouted, hit and tackled one another to attain the prize - valued at a mere 20 cents. Dog. Eat. Dog.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
In 105 degree heat ...
there's nothing better to do than smoke a shisha and drink a Stella.
That is, if you can't bear one more offer for a felucca ride along the Nile (which we actually did) or a horse / camel / donkey ride for temple and tomb viewing. For once I will be concise and leave it at that, as there's little else to being a tourist in Luxor, Egypt.
That is, if you can't bear one more offer for a felucca ride along the Nile (which we actually did) or a horse / camel / donkey ride for temple and tomb viewing. For once I will be concise and leave it at that, as there's little else to being a tourist in Luxor, Egypt.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Mummies, Muslims and Malaria
Egypt is unlike anywhere I have been or anything I expected. Forewarned of Cairo's mobs, touts and scams, I was prepared for the worst and never hoped to discover a people so kind and welcoming. We've certainly encountered the city's chaos and touts, but these cannot mask a core of genuine friendliness. Already we've met countless locals eager to chat over shai and - of course - offer detailed advice on exactly what to see, buy and eat while in Egypt. Hesitant to deal with potential anti-American sentiment, we've selectively varied our nationality between the states, Canada, South Africa and even France when asked the inevitable question "Where are you from?" Surprisingly, the response is consistently "We welcome you to our country". That is, with the occasional adjunct "George Bush is a bad man" when we claim to be American.
But at the heart of the nation's intrigue are undoubtedly it's mysterious historical roots. From the ancient artifacts and treasures at the Egyptian Museum to the Great Sphinx and pyramids in the suburbs, Cairo easily transports you back to a civilization of millennia past. Words cannot capture the experience of staring into the eyes of an exquisitely preserved mummy. Her hair, skin and fingernails recount not just an obscure ancient society, but her personal existence several thousands of years ago. Similarly, gazing up at the base of Giza's wondrous pyramids, images of their original splendor immediately come to life, and you can effortlessly envision the bustling society around which the structures were built 4600 years ago!
Over Cairo's core of friendliness and historical magnificence is a third layer of its Islamic tradition. One particularly memorable moment beautifully captures this religious element. We were lucky enough to catch the midday prayer while sitting before al Hussein Mosque, one of the most important mosques in Cairo. The song of the imam's call to prayer is so beautiful as to move a non-Muslim like myself, despite being unable to comprehend a word. What a breathtaking site to view a sea of men overflowing from the mosque to fill the square, all bowing is unison towards Mecca. Again, my ignorance of Islam prevents me from fully understanding their worship, but it was a magical sight nonetheless.
On a lighter - or scarier, depending on your perspective - note, our second night in Egypt was spent trying to navigate Cairo's health care system. After a delicious (and apparently contaminated) street-side dinner of Kushari (a mish-mash of anything and everything) the previous night, Russell passed the day battling fever, headache and violent stomach issues. By bedtime I was convinced that he contracted malaria in Tanzania, where the disease is both rampant and of its ugliest form. Not only did Lonely Planet describe Tanzanian malaria with exactly Russell's symptoms, but the (probably faulty) thermometer we bought read his temperature as over 41C (106F)! The paranoid girlfriend that I am, I dragged him out of bed in search of a malaria test. Three visits to the pharmacy and a failed hunt for a doctor later, we were sent home with a provisional diagnosis of traveler's diarrhea and a pack of drugs. Readers should rest assured that I am just that paranoid and Russell has not died of malaria.
But at the heart of the nation's intrigue are undoubtedly it's mysterious historical roots. From the ancient artifacts and treasures at the Egyptian Museum to the Great Sphinx and pyramids in the suburbs, Cairo easily transports you back to a civilization of millennia past. Words cannot capture the experience of staring into the eyes of an exquisitely preserved mummy. Her hair, skin and fingernails recount not just an obscure ancient society, but her personal existence several thousands of years ago. Similarly, gazing up at the base of Giza's wondrous pyramids, images of their original splendor immediately come to life, and you can effortlessly envision the bustling society around which the structures were built 4600 years ago!
Over Cairo's core of friendliness and historical magnificence is a third layer of its Islamic tradition. One particularly memorable moment beautifully captures this religious element. We were lucky enough to catch the midday prayer while sitting before al Hussein Mosque, one of the most important mosques in Cairo. The song of the imam's call to prayer is so beautiful as to move a non-Muslim like myself, despite being unable to comprehend a word. What a breathtaking site to view a sea of men overflowing from the mosque to fill the square, all bowing is unison towards Mecca. Again, my ignorance of Islam prevents me from fully understanding their worship, but it was a magical sight nonetheless.
On a lighter - or scarier, depending on your perspective - note, our second night in Egypt was spent trying to navigate Cairo's health care system. After a delicious (and apparently contaminated) street-side dinner of Kushari (a mish-mash of anything and everything) the previous night, Russell passed the day battling fever, headache and violent stomach issues. By bedtime I was convinced that he contracted malaria in Tanzania, where the disease is both rampant and of its ugliest form. Not only did Lonely Planet describe Tanzanian malaria with exactly Russell's symptoms, but the (probably faulty) thermometer we bought read his temperature as over 41C (106F)! The paranoid girlfriend that I am, I dragged him out of bed in search of a malaria test. Three visits to the pharmacy and a failed hunt for a doctor later, we were sent home with a provisional diagnosis of traveler's diarrhea and a pack of drugs. Readers should rest assured that I am just that paranoid and Russell has not died of malaria.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Lions, tigers and bears, oh my!
Okay, no tigers or bears - but lions, yes. Packaged vacations and guided tours are about the furthest thing from my idea of a good time. So after learning that it's nearly impossible to see the African wilderness either independently or cheaply, I was less than eager to join the khaki-clad safari crew. Nevertheless, Russell convinced me and we signed our lives away for an all-inclusive (safari, flight, lodging, meals) 2-day adventure in the Selous Game Reserve. I doubt that the words that follow will do justice to the surprisingly phenomenal experience.
To begin with, the lodge - Selous Impala Camp. Sure our room was a tent, but an en-suite tent with electricity, running water and eucalyptus scented pillows. The quality was less that of a "camp" than an upscale resort, minus the uncomfortable pretentious vibe. Sensational multi-course meals were served riverside and under the stars. The attentive staff welcomed you as their immediate friend and transformed the camp into a family. It boggles my mind how they maintain such class literally out in the middle of nowhere - an expanse of African bush equivalent in size to Switzerland! To add a bizarre element of romance, I was about the only girl not sporting a shiny new band with matching diamond solitaire. We kindly refrained from telling the many honeymooning couples that we got a great last minute deal by booking our ticket the day before, while they paid the standard astronomical price by booking months in advance.
Although the camp was an experience in itself, I have yet to describe the best part - the animals! They say the Selous is the ideal reserve in which to observe "authentic" untouched Africa, and I believe it. At our camp we mingled with the resident hippo Andrea, wandering elephants and frolicking impala (antelope). For two full days we stalked the animals and explored the bush by open-air jeep, boat and foot. What raises the safari experience so superior to say, a zoo, is the raw purity of each creature in its element in perfect harmony with all the surrounding organisms. And you're repeatedly reminded how completely untamed the animal community around you is, where any walking must be accompanied by an armed ranger and even the night walk from our tent to dinner required a stick- and knife-carrying Masai as an escort. Our awesome guides taught us about the complex relationships within the animal community and took us to all the right corners of the wild, where we gawked at giraffes (my absolute favorite and oh so elegant!), zebras, wildebeest, elephant families, impala herds, swarms of baboons, lazy hippos and sneaky crocs, not to mention the vultures, kingfishers, bee-eaters and countless other exotic bird species.
At risk of boring you with way too many details, I must mention a few highlights - those moments when your heart skips a beat and leaps from your chest in awe. Like ... the 2 week old baby giraffe with umbilical cord still attached ... or the lounging trio of wild dogs, among the scant 4000 left in the world. And the safari finale couldn't have unfolded better if planned. As our last game drive was nearing an end, our guide heard rumor of a lion sighting and proceeded to race our jeep across the reserve in hot pursuit. We soon found ourselves looking eye to eye with an entire lion family - the dominant male, his multiple "wives" and their many playful cubs - feasting ravenously on a fresh kill of bloody wildebeest. As an encore to this amazing performance, Andrea (the hippo) decided to bid us farewell the morning of our departure by meandering curiously around our tent, keeping me trapped inside in nervous wonder.
To begin with, the lodge - Selous Impala Camp. Sure our room was a tent, but an en-suite tent with electricity, running water and eucalyptus scented pillows. The quality was less that of a "camp" than an upscale resort, minus the uncomfortable pretentious vibe. Sensational multi-course meals were served riverside and under the stars. The attentive staff welcomed you as their immediate friend and transformed the camp into a family. It boggles my mind how they maintain such class literally out in the middle of nowhere - an expanse of African bush equivalent in size to Switzerland! To add a bizarre element of romance, I was about the only girl not sporting a shiny new band with matching diamond solitaire. We kindly refrained from telling the many honeymooning couples that we got a great last minute deal by booking our ticket the day before, while they paid the standard astronomical price by booking months in advance.
Although the camp was an experience in itself, I have yet to describe the best part - the animals! They say the Selous is the ideal reserve in which to observe "authentic" untouched Africa, and I believe it. At our camp we mingled with the resident hippo Andrea, wandering elephants and frolicking impala (antelope). For two full days we stalked the animals and explored the bush by open-air jeep, boat and foot. What raises the safari experience so superior to say, a zoo, is the raw purity of each creature in its element in perfect harmony with all the surrounding organisms. And you're repeatedly reminded how completely untamed the animal community around you is, where any walking must be accompanied by an armed ranger and even the night walk from our tent to dinner required a stick- and knife-carrying Masai as an escort. Our awesome guides taught us about the complex relationships within the animal community and took us to all the right corners of the wild, where we gawked at giraffes (my absolute favorite and oh so elegant!), zebras, wildebeest, elephant families, impala herds, swarms of baboons, lazy hippos and sneaky crocs, not to mention the vultures, kingfishers, bee-eaters and countless other exotic bird species.
At risk of boring you with way too many details, I must mention a few highlights - those moments when your heart skips a beat and leaps from your chest in awe. Like ... the 2 week old baby giraffe with umbilical cord still attached ... or the lounging trio of wild dogs, among the scant 4000 left in the world. And the safari finale couldn't have unfolded better if planned. As our last game drive was nearing an end, our guide heard rumor of a lion sighting and proceeded to race our jeep across the reserve in hot pursuit. We soon found ourselves looking eye to eye with an entire lion family - the dominant male, his multiple "wives" and their many playful cubs - feasting ravenously on a fresh kill of bloody wildebeest. As an encore to this amazing performance, Andrea (the hippo) decided to bid us farewell the morning of our departure by meandering curiously around our tent, keeping me trapped inside in nervous wonder.
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