The editing continues

The facilitator of my writers' group is takes off from Thanksgiving through New Year's. The group continues to meet, read, and comment, but I feel better when Francis reads (I'm not sure why). So I'm off this month too. I'm using this time to search for a permanent job, work my two part-time jobs, and co-write a short story with my husband.

I'm also editing and editing and editing In An Elephant's Footprint. The other group members, as well as Francis, gave me a lot of pointers. They liked my description of the dragon but wondered why I left out the flight to Hong Kong. I think flights are pretty much the same, but one person thought my heroine would be excited about a trip like this. I haven't satisfactorily answered that question yet. I'll think about describing her pre-flight excitement.

What I'm observing in this group is that we all have different styles. One person wrote that my fantasy sounded real, but the reality didn't. What does this say about my personality? Or my style?

I will submit 3 chapters on January 7. That will be about my halfway point. The story is progressing, and that's all I need right now.

NaNoWriMo almost finished

I'd love for you to be reading about how my novel, except for some heavy editing, is finished. You won't be reading that, however. When I hurt my back and couldn't write for a few days, I lost momentum. Maybe I could have caught up, if I hadn't done anything else, but I chose to take care of other business. I'll try again next year, now that I know what is expected of me.

On a lighter note, my husband and I gave our annual "Soup and Bad Movie" party Saturday, November 21. The preparation for that took a few days. The party was a smashing success, but it was one more interruption in my novel. As I said, next year....

NaNoWriMo

Tonight, Sunday, November 15, is the halfway point of the NaNoWriMo challenge. In other words, if I'm on schedule, I will have 25,000 words written by tonight. Well, guess what? I don't! I strained a muscle in my back a week ago, making it difficult to sit, so I didn't write for three days. I am approximately 9,000 words behind.

Knowing that I may not "win" (write 50,000 words by November 30) won't deter me, however. I am on a quest (much like my teenage hero) and will keep allowing the ideas to become "black on white." Except for a great deal of editing, I want the novel to be done at the end of this month. After that, I will concentrate on holiday gifts and celebrations.

National Novel Writers' Month

If you are a writer, you may have heard about National Novel Writers' Month, or NaNoWriMo. I only recently learned of this exciting opportunity and decided to take the plunge. The challenge is to write 50,000 words in the month of November. This works out to 1667 words a day. Today is November 1, and I wrote a little over that amount! Just think -- I can write a novel in a month! Note that I didn't say "a well written novel" or "write and edit." Just the same, 50,000 words is a huge accomplishment.

I'm using this opportunity to rough out the last 5 or so chapters of my already-started In An Elephant's Footprint. Since I already have a lot of the details in my head, it is pretty easy going, though it will certainly need a lot of corrections and rearranging later. Today I worked on what I consider the most exciting part, and at the end of this month I hope to know whether this chapter (chapter 10 now) should be chapter 1. You know, dump the reader into the middle of the action and all that.

Another fun part about this is that my husband, Brian, has entered too. He has developed characters and a story and thinks it will be publishable at the end. I hope so. He's helped me a lot. Now it's his turn to be creative.

Wish us luck, and it's not too late to register.

Future and Past can change places

One of the premises of my novel is that time is only a perception. One of my characters can leave the present at will. She runs into a potential problem, however, when she intends to show visit her 12th birthday party (a few months into the future) to see if she gets a new bike but lands instead at her 2nd birthday party, the only big kid there! How did she mix up the traveling words and how will she get out of the backyard party unnoticed?

Writing down my story

If anyone is following my blog, you know I love to do two things: travel and write.

Traveling makes my crazy; writing helps me sort it out. Maybe I was crazy to begin with and just don't notice the insanity in a different language (probably a good thing). Whatever the reason, I anticipate more trips. I've made two promises about our next trip: we will travel first or business class, and I will not pull anyone's hair (I swear, the last time was an accident).

This brings me to my big writing project. With the help of my husband, my sister, and a kind writers' group, I am writing a book! It is a fantasy about a young lady who talks to dragons, one specifically. I started this at least five years ago but just joined the writers' group this spring (2009) and have actually been organizing and achieving. It's about half done, and this is truly exciting. I never thought I'd get this far, particularly since I don't read science fiction or fantasy. Maybe that's why I'm writing it. Is it okay to create my own genre? I've read a few books with dragons on the cover, trying to learn how they think and act. At the end, I've usually read a Medieval love story, with a dragon who flew through once or twice. I'm not criticizing -- every story is important. I just haven't yet found the books that give me insights into dragons' thoughts and emotions.

So, I'm on my own here. When my book is finished, I'll let you know. If a dragon is on the cover, it will be because he is one of the main characters. I've given him a name, physical dimensions, a home, emotions, and a task. For the task, of course, he needs a human, in this case, the young lady.

Many times when I'm falling asleep at night, these characters are on my mind. A question, and sometimes the answer to one, often wakes me up in the morning. Instead of forcing myself to work on the project, I have a hard time staying away from the computer. It is always with me. I love it.

Correction

You may remember that in February/March of 2009, my husband, Brian, and I visited my daughter, Ronda, in South Africa. She was in the Peace Corps, working in a village named Makotse (go to "older entries" if you would like to read about some of our experiences in that country). We met several of Ronda's coworkers, and I misspelled one name.

Here is that correction: the lady's name is spelled Pheladi, not Pilate. I apologize, Pheladi. Our names are important to us. Now I will always remember you -- and your name.

Still tastes wonderful

Remember Amarula, the wonderful liqueur made from marula fruit in South Africa? We brought back 4 bottles and are trying to make it last. We shared some with company a couple of months ago, but basically we just savor the anticipation. Brian, my husband, learned recently that it is available in the states.

Perhaps we should anticipate less and drink more!

Siena (the city, not the color)

Wait! I promised readers some information about Siena. Siena's sister city in the United States is Buffalo, New York. The city (Siena) is spelled with one n, while the color has two n's. We drive a Toyota Sienna, and I can't explain that.

Even though we were coming back to Rome for the last day of our trip, I didn't want to leave. Ronda had caught onto some of the language, and it is just a fantastic place to visit. We headed out for Siena, a city that is famous for its ceramics. It is also charming in an old-world way but different from Rome and Florence.

Two things in Siena stand out in my mind. One is the very large plaza ("Piazzo del Campo") made of bricks and sloping down to the cathedral. I let myself imagine all the citizens gathering for meetings of various sorts, with announcements being shouted out from a stage. I'll bet the bricks were uncomfortable to sit on if there were many announcements.

The other vivid memory I have is of taking a shower. I really, really wanted a shower after the trip, but the water didn't warm up. I waited for a while and then spotted a coin depository. Oh! Cold water is included, but hot water is extra! I wanted a shower but eschew cold ones. Plus I didn't have any quarters (or the Italian equivalent) with me. I always assume that a hot shower will be readily available to me. It was, but I wasn't willing to feed coins into a slot. I compromised by standing back, cupping cold water in my hands until it warmed a little, and splashing it on my body. Not very satisfactory. I'm not even sure it could be called a shower, but there you go.

My souvenir from Siena was a set of salad spoon/fork with ceramic handles. There were bigger and better ceramic items to purchase, of course, but I'm happy with my choice.

I would eagerly revisit Siena but would make sure the hotel has hot running water included in the daily rate.

So this is where that happened!

Our last night in Rome was beautiful in a sad kind of way. We ate dinner at a cafe that had about 4 little tables inside, about 8 little tables on the sidewalk, and, because that was sometimes not enough, 4 tables in the street! We watched the moon and ate salads and dessert. We didn't hurry.

We got back to our hotel and had some time before the bus left. Ronda said, "Mom, I have something to show you, and it's close enough so that you won't hurt your feet any more." Yes, a week later after being lost for 4 hours, they still hurt. I trust Ronda. We left and walked a few blocks. She had discovered that we were staying only a short walk from the Colosseum! It was really old and falling down, but in the dark it looked old and falling down. I know a little bit about the early Christians. The Roman emperors enjoyed putting some hungry lions in the Colosseum with some Christians, just to see who would win. Seeing it brought tears to my eyes. There were people who were so dedicated to their new religion that they allowed themselves to be mauled and killed for the entertainment of the wealthy. That may not be true, but that's what I've heard. And I got to see the place!

The darkness and the hour pushed us forward, but I got to see the Colosseum!

No, thanks. I'll just stay in the room.

In Rome, Ronda wandered with some friends from the U.S., while I rested in our room. I felt old and very disappointed that I had trashed my feet the first day. On our last day in Rome, we walked to Vatican City (or maybe we caught a bus -- as I said, this was 10 years ago). We went into the Sistine Chapel. You know, they just don't build chapels like that any more. The administrators, however, need to decide if it is a place of worship or a tourist attraction. When we got too noisy in our admiration of the architecture and paintings, someone would come along and say, "Shhh" with a couple of exclamation points after it. I complied. Some people behind me were speaking French rather loudly, without any regard for the worship thing, so I finally asked, "Comprenez-vous shhh?" I wracked my brain for the French word for "hush" but didn't find it. "Mange merde" I can remember, along with several other words and phrases, but not "be quiet."

We shopped our way back to our hotel. I wanted a gray pullover sweater and a leather shoulder bag. We took our time, and in one shop I tried on a "one size fits all" pullover. The way it fit (or didn't fit) me was our laugh for the day. We were probably in the children's section. A few blocks away, we found a very nice shop, and their garments and bags were stunning. We were assisted by a lady who spoke excellent English, and she brought out a sleeveless pullover and matching cardigan that she wanted me to try. They were beautiful, a "look-at-me-twice" black and brown combination, but I really wanted a simple gray pullover. We were speaking lira here, so I tried to be careful. I found the shoulder bag I wanted, then the sweater. The sales clerk was still trying to convince me to buy the brown and black set, so I finally said, "It's beautiful, but if I buy it, I can't buy the shoulder bag." She whisked the sweater set away and didn't say another word about them. She understood the lira language. A handsome and very nice man wrapped and bagged my purchases very carefully. I think he was nice. He didn't speak any English except "Enjoy your nice purchases," so maybe he was just handsome. I still wear the sweater and carry the bag, and I still don't know how much I paid for them. I don't care.

Late that evening, Ronda said she had a surprise for me, and she thought my feet were up for it. What was at the end of that walk will be the subject of my next entry.

Happy birthday to me!

We did indeed land in Rome on my birthday. Today, eleven years after the event, I can still see the perpetually angry man, boarding the plane with us (I pulled his wife's hair on the flight, but it was accidental), and I remember how miffed Ronda was when I discovered that I had forgotten our Greece travel guide and had to buy another one in the airport. Other than those two little inconveniences, the safari began as we had planned.

My birthday celebration consisted of getting settled in our hostel and then eating dinner at a quiet restaurant. We toasted each other with a local red wine and ended the meal with tiramisu. We wandered the streets. Being in a city that I had only read about made my heart beat fast and brought tears to my eyes. Wait -- it was my tired feet that made me cry!

Tired feet made me change a lot of plans. This is how it happened: Ronda wanted to buy me a haircut for my birthday. After we found our hostel and ate dinner, I said I would go to the train station (about a block from our hostel) to buy a magazine. This was fine with Ronda, as she likes time to herself. There were no hairstyle magazines in the train station, so I walked a little farther. When I was ready to go back, I, not having left bread crumbs, couldn't find my way! This led to about 4 hours of walking and asking directions and more walking. Under other circumstances, it would have been a lot of fun. That quest for the perfect haircut, however, started three weeks of pain every time I walked. I stayed in the room when Ronda went out with friends (she didn't mind), we took shorter walking excursions than we'd planned, and I complained a lot.

This was not the birthday that I'd planned, but there we were, surrounded by old world architecture and art. It was amazing. After 11 years, it is STILL amazing.

Return to this blog for information about Siena, specifically how to take a shower at a hotel that charges for hot water.

Traveling - easy; planning - difficult

Planning a trip to Rashid proved to be quite difficult. We could fly to Cairo and go by land transportation (bus or hired car) north to the Mediterranean. Alternatively, we could fly to Athens, island hop east, and then catch a ferry across the sea. The ferry ride alone would take 24 hours. Another option was to fly to Rome, take land transportation south, and then catch the 24-hour ferry. It looked bleak. It seemed that a trip to this place was for people who had several weeks and no schedule -- not my daughter and me at that time.

As much as we hated to let the dream go, we decided to visit Italy and Greece instead.

Twenty years earlier, we had dipped into Torino, Italy. At the train station, while Ronda (age 10) sat on my suitcase to protect it, I stood in line to buy train tickets out the next day. In that brief period of time, a young man propositioned me, and a lady from America recognized my shirt and started a conversation with me. I said "no, thank you" to the young man and allowed the lady, Donna, who had dual citizenship in America and Italy, to help me through the ticket buying process. Stepping down from the train with a young child and luggage in a strange city was a frightening ordeal, knowing that 24 hours was not enough time to learn the language. Within 10 minutes, however, I was becoming acquainted with a very nice and helpful person. Whew!

Donna bought our tickets for us, pointed out a restaurant for our dinner, walked with us to an excellent hotel, and promised to send a cab for us the next day. Her Italian mother was ill, and she was spending a month in Torino with her aunt. We were to have lunch with her aunt's family. Everything went swimmingly -- the dinner was wonderful (I especially loved the dessert cart), the bed was comfortable, the cab came on schedule, and we spent a few delightful hours with her family. This included a bold red wine that they made in their basement, lunch, and a walking tour of the area. I remember drinking my first ever cappuccino and the delightful good-bye kisses from Donna's cute male cousins.

So we had enough information about Italy to return. And who needs information about Greece to want to visit it? We planned to land in Rome on my birthday.

Remember when I mentioned Italy?

Early in 1998, my daughter said she wanted to take me to Egypt for my 50th birthday in September. In Egypt, near the mouth of the Nile, is Rashid, the place where the Rosetta Stone was discovered. She had been there a few years earlier, taking the long, difficult route home after having lived in Tanzania. Her only mission was to see Rosetta (Rashid) because my name is Rosetta. I'm still touched by her determination to take me to that village. Most of you who know the importance of the Rosetta Stone know that the British named the point of discovery "Rosetta" ("Rose of the Nile"). It has since reverted back to Rashid, the original Egyptian name. My daughter only saw a village there, not even a commemorative plaque, and the Rosetta Stone now resides in the British Museum in London. She said she considered buying me a carrot, the closest thing she could find to a souvenir. She very much wanted to take me to the birthplace of my name. Off we planned!

I have since learned a little more about Rashid. It has a population of about 163,000 (a pretty big village!) and is a tourist attraction, best known for its distinct Ottoman era houses. I've also read about a museum and a public bath.

Stay tuned. I promise that I will eventually get to Italy.

There are never enough minutes in an hour

When my husband, Brian, and I planned to travel to South Africa to see my daughter (in the Peace Corps), we could only get three weeks off. We wanted to stay longer, but I had not yet accrued 15 vacation days. I had to promise to avoid getting sick. Brian had to stand in line, fill out forms, and talk with his chief to get the same number of days off (it was considered a hardship leave). We worked hard to get there, and we wanted to see everything.

All of South Africa in three weeks? It is twice the size of Texas, so Ronda suggested Kruger National Park, a place where the animals are free and the people are restricted. It is about her favorite place in the whole world, and it quickly became one of ours.

Kruger takes up a goodly portion of northeast South Africa. We stayed in that corner of the country, starting in Johannesburg, heading north to her village (Makotse), east to the Park, and then south to the east coast (St. Lucia). The rest of the country, especially Capetown, tugged at us, but it would have to wait for the next trip.

In 1982, Ronda and I spent seven weeks in Europe and only visited five countries. A later trip took us to Europe for three weeks, and we only dabbled in Italy and Greece. I’ve known people who donned their Nikes and t-shirts and tried to see 15 countries in two weeks. I’ve never wanted my trips to be a photographic blur, as theirs must be -- a dream made real but one resembling cotton candy.

I'm still trying to figure out how to add pictures to these entries. It will happen. Also watch for Italy and Greece.

More about the Makotse people

The northern middle part of South Africa in February was really, really hot, even in the early morning. Ronda lived only a 10-minute walk from her office, but she wanted to drive to work because she thought she'd have to leave a few times. She knows how to avoid the dreadful loose sand at intersections that sucks cars in. She picked up her friends, Nathan and Jeff (also Peace Corps volunteers) from the taxi ranks because they had agreed to help paint the poles.

When she dropped Brian and me off, the ladies were already busy at making marula juice. I greeted Pilate, but she was busy, so we didn't talk. We sat in the shade in chairs that people happily got for us. Soon Ronda returned, and she and some men started coating the poles with creosote for the tomato hydroponics project. The tomato patch was her idea. She wrote the grant and was very excited about it.

The marula fruit looks kind of like a crab apple but has one large stone and very little flesh. It's tasty but not very satisfying. People make beer, cosmetics, and liqueur from this fruit. It brings a lot of money into the community, and everyone helps -- from picking the fruit to making the end products and working at the festival.

I had seen some women peeling the fruit the day before and peeled one for each of us with a fork at Ma Mello's. It wasn't hard.

Sitting in the shade while everyone else was working didn't feel comfortable, so I asked Pilate if I could help. She made room for me in the circle and gave me a bucket and fork. I washed my hands and got busy, my only concern the possibility of stabbing my left thumb. One lady used a long galvanized nail. Some women sat on the ground and ate their lunch of KFC and mealy pap. I worked and worked, partly because I enjoyed it and partly because there was no one to talk to (Brian, Ronda, Nathan, and Jeff were painting poles). Lively African music played from a nearby shed.

I worked while I watched the ladies interact and speak in their musical Sepedi. More people from the office joined us. One wore a plastic lunchroom-type bib apron. Most tied cloths around their waists. I casually did nothing to protect the pants that Ronda had loaned me. I checked on the pole painting a couple of times, but I enjoyed the rhythm of my work, the conversations around me, and the music. The women watched my bucket, and when it started to get empty, they brought me more fruit. The breeze from the field of 10-foot tall maize plants helped to cool our shady spot.

I got tired after about an hour ("worked and worked" is an exaggeration), helped paint a couple of poles, which wasn't fun at all, invited Brian to take a break, and then took pictures of both activities.

Ronda asked if I'd brought snack bars. Darn! I hadn't. I offered to drive to her house, to experience driving on the left. On roads of sand, though, it doesn't matter much because staying in the ruts is the only crucial rule. Brian and I left and should have been back in 10 minutes.

We couldn't find Ronda's house. Then I got stuck in the sand because I cut a corner too close and forgot to stay in the ruts. The MCW gardener came with a shovel over his shoulder, but he and Brian just pushed a little as I backed up. Then Ronda and Nathan sauntered over, having heard something like, "Your mom is stuck! Your mom is stuck!" Everyone hits the sand trap occasionally, but when the American visitors did it, it made news.

As we were leaving for the day, I danced in place a little. When the women laughed at me, I realized that they'd been watching me closely. Ronda confirmed this. She also said that my work "went a long ways."

Late in our stay, we met Mma Legodi (sounds like "mallahodee"), Ronda's supervisor. She has three children. The oldest is a beautiful girl named Mahji (I'd like to think that it has something to do with magic). Ronda's name is "Karabo," pronounced "gahrahbo." When Ronda arrived at Makotse, the women had been praying, and their "answer" was Ronda.

Ronda told me later that when she turned in her resignation to return to the States, she went to a church service. She heard her name, Karabo, mentioned several times in the prayers. Mma Legodi asked Ronda if she understood the prayer. Ronda didn't. Her supervisor said that they were praying that the next volunteer would be like her.

We are white, and we stood out

In South Africa, I was a member of a minority. This was a change for me, as I have spent all of my life in the U.S. In my two trips to Europe, only my accent (in England and Scotland) and difficulty with the French and Italian languages set me apart. Even when I traveled to Nicaragua and Japan, being one of the few Caucasians didn't feel awkward.

In South Africa, however, standing out was a given. We looked like Americans or Afrikaners. Our accent probably would have solved that puzzle, but add our light skin to our American clothes and rented car, and we really stood out.

Ronda did okay. She wore a uniform at work and spoke some Sepedi. Brian and I, however, were completely at the mercy of curious African people. In the mountains, the few people we saw seemed to be pleasantly surprised and friendly. It was awkward for me. Was it acceptable to wave at everyone? Was it condescending to smile and wave at people seated by the side of the road as we flew by in our car?

I took a chance, and it felt okay. For me, friendliness worked better than fear.

Makotse

Let me talk for a bit about Makotse, the village in South Africa where my daughter, a Peace Corps volunteer, lived and worked.

Ronda had talked often about the village, but even if I’d seen pictures, I would have had to be there to comprehend it, even a little. I had even totally misunderstood her geographical position, the first of many misunderstandings. It also took me a while to understand “village” and “neighborhood.”

It was difficult to understand the relationships of all the people, probably because we there only three days. We stayed with Ma and Pa Mello, Ronda’s closest neighbors. They are a wonderful couple about our age (we both have adult children) who were thrilled to have us as their guests. We made Makotse our first stop. The people who knew Ronda excitedly anticipated meeting her mother. As a footnote, Brian is not Ronda’s biological father. The Makotse people didn’t discount him at all, but they really, really wanted to meet me because they really, really liked Ronda. Across the street from the Mellos and Ronda lived a lady named Pilate (like “pilates” but no “s”). There were other people there -- a lovely shy girl of about 10, an adult woman with a baby boy named Blessing. He let me hold him. I’m not sure how those people are related or if they all live there. Extended families are large.

We could have stayed with Ronda, who has a small but comfortable house. The main reason we didn’t (besides the “small” part) was that she does not have indoor plumbing. She takes “bucket baths,” carries in water from an outside tap, washes her clothes by hand, and, yes, she has a pit toilet (an outhouse). She has gotten used to this life, but it would have been difficult for me. She also said that the toilet creaks when she sits down, and she wasn’t sure how it would hold up with more action. It was agreeable to everyone (especially me) for us stay in a nice room at Ma and Pa Mello’s house. They have a Western bathroom and had recently purchased a clothes washer. The indoor toilet eased a lot of the travel anxiety. We got permission to take advantage of the washer too. We hung our clothes outside, but that was fine, as the weather was good, and that’s what I do at home.

Brian and I got lost in the village, even though Ronda’s house is about a 10-minute walk from the MWC (Makotse Women’s Club). Repetition would have rectified that, but it was embarrassing to get lost driving and then walking. Getting stuck in the sand was not so embarrassing. A man (the gardener at the MWC) sauntered out with a shovel over his shoulder, and he and Brian easily got me out. Apparently this is a common occurrence, but a lot of people turned out to watch. This exciting news got back to Ronda before we were moving again.

The children were at recess the two times we walked by (lost both times). I don’t know which part of the scenario they enjoyed, but they ran to the chain link fence and watched. We knew we were close, but that was all. We were trying to hurry, but the sand made walking difficult. We needed help. I walked up to three young boys and said, “Hi. Where is the bakery?” They stared at me. Then I remembered that “r” is pronounced as a soft “d.” I asked, slowly, “Where is the bak-uh-dee?” They understood, and one young student pointed vaguely. That was all we needed. We said thank you and waved good-bye. Ronda said later that I could have asked, “Where does the other white lady work?”

A couple of the bakery employees stood outside of the MWC building. Suddenly a big group of employees appeared, all women, crowding around to meet me. I swear, I never saw them coming. They smiled, shook my hand, and kept smiling. So curious, so delightful.

I took hard candy, at Ronda’s suggestion. I also took a bag of Obama buttons and nice but inexpensive T-shirts. The children loved the candy, the women (and Pa Mello) loved the T-shirts, and everybody loved the buttons.

I’m glad we went there first. I’m glad everyone liked Ronda. When we had to say goodbye to her 3 weeks later, it was okay to let her go back to her community.

The wonderful, though tenacious, Chia seeds

The label on my jar calls Chia seed a “powerful new superfood.” It’s actually ancient, not new, and nutritionists know that it can do a lot more than grow green hair on Scooby-Doo. Specifically, “due to its high fiber content, Chia seed absorbs more than ten times its weight in water, making it an excellent source of hydration” (good for athletes). “Omega 3 Chia’s soluble fiber forms a gel that slows the absorption of sugar into the bloodstream, binds it to toxins in the digestive system, and helps eliminate waste” (possibly good for losing weight and preventing constipation).

There is more. Mixed with cold water, they become a “perfect” egg substitute (I am a vegetarian but have no plans to try this). The seeds are a source of antioxidants, calcium, potassium, iron, and trace elements. They are a low-fat source of omega 3 and omega 6.

A note about the “gel” mentioned above -- the gel around each seed makes them cling to gums and between teeth, so I have learned to wait an hour or so before brushing my teeth. They're cute and crunchy, but only the ones I swallow will benefit me.

So, call it a superfood, egg substitute, constipation prevention, or a general health supplement. I recommend it, but, as mentioned earlier, if you travel with it, pack it carefully. Seeds scattered in a suitcase are just as lost as those spit into a sink with toothpaste.

Not Pacific, not Atlantic, but the Indian, oh, Lord.

Seeing the Indian Ocean for the first time was a thrill. I'm an ocean person, having lived a few hours from the Atlantic or Pacific Oceans all of my life, but here was a brand new one! The sun was hot, the sand was warm and clean, the water was a rich blue with high white waves, and jellyfish and pale red crabs surrounded us.

I was wearing my swim suit under my clothes but decided not to go in. Actually, I'm a sit-and-watch-it person and can do exactly that for hours. I had my sunscreen on, my umbrella up, and my camera at the ready. Ronda and Brian are fearless. They see water -- they go in. We couldn't tell whether the tide was ebbing or flowing, but after a brief discussion of the possible problems of each, they shrugged and braved it.

The reason I didn't swim or wade (intentionally, that is; the waves come in quickly and surreptitiously) this particular time was that we knew there was an impressive undertow. I'm not a strong swimmer so was content to stay (mostly) dry. I took pictures of Ronda and Brian as they got smaller and smaller, the current taking them to who knows where. I could do nothing about their situation, so I sat down and enjoyed my surroundings.

Little crabs are everywhere! I don’t know what kind they are (maybe hermit), but they are are as quick as the surf. They stay close to holes, so they can pop down if anything threatens them. Even if they weren't close to a hole, they could disappear in an instant if I made the slightest move. I made it into a game. If I gave them a wide berth and tiptoed up behind them or pretended to be looking elsewhere, hoping to surprise them, the result was the same. I quickly lost. I declared the game ended and pretended to not care that the little scuttlers could consistently get the jump on me.

Another fact about that ocean on that particular day was that we were the only ones there. It’s true! I’ve been to public beaches on both U.S. coasts and could hardly see the sand. On this beach north of St. Lucia, I could have sunbathed nude, and the only reactions might have come from my husband and daughter (if they could make it back) and the crabs. All that beautiful sand and water to ourselves on that glorious day was something I’d never seen before and will likely not see again. There are not enough superlatives to describe a situation like that, and we didn’t want to leave.

Being on anti-malarial medication, we were supposed to stay out of the sun. I had sat on the beach, but Ronda and Brian had fought the waves and the undertow and were exhausted when they eventually pulled themselves out. We reluctantly ended one of the most beautiful experiences on earth.

We found the public restrooms, then utilized the outdoor showers. The water was cold, but we needed to rinse off the sand and salt. We appreciated the opportunity very much. Besides completely wearing herself out, Ronda swallowed a lot of salt water (that was Brian’s assessment), and she got quite nauseated, especially in the back seat of the car on our way back to our motel. She went to bed where she napped and read while Brian and I ate pizza at a restaurant down the block and later went out on the night tour (see the “Leaf-Stitching Ants” entry).

The incredible talking trees

At our first camp in Kruger, we took the "Sunset Tour." This is similar to the one we took in St. Lucia (see "Leaf-stitching Ants"), but the Sunset Tour began in daylight and ended after dark. It was an incredible way to see both diurnal and nocturnal animals in a short time, animals that we would have surely missed on our own.

Our guide was named Celia. She was pretty, knowledgeable, and delightful. Best of all, Ronda, Brian, and I were the only ones on the tour, so we had four hours to ask questions and soak it all in.

Speaking of soaking, we saw tons of hippos (literally) in the river. After dark, we found them by shining our spotlights until we saw eyes. Mainly we saw birds -- big ones (Marabou storks), little ones (blacksmith plover and cape turtle doves), eagles, grey go-away bird (yes, that's its official name), king fishers, rollers, and others.

There is a species of antelope (maybe the water bucks) that Celia said do a peculiar thing if they are killed by a predator. In a herd, a lion or leopard or wild dog will single out an antelope to kill. Apparently, as it dies, it has the ability to pour a foul-tasting substance into its flesh, so that that particular lion (for instance) will leave that herd alone, thinking that they are all rotten. I don't know what this is called or how it developed -- an animal playing its last card for the perpetuation of the herd. All animals have to eat, but I like the idea of a confused, disgusted big cat.

Celia went on to say that trees do a similar thing. If an elephant chews the bark off a tree, that particular tree puts out a signal to other trees in the area, and they have the ability to make their bark taste bad. I don't know if it's all trees that do this or just a few of the evolved, but what a trick!

She pointed out an old tree that an explorer used as a landmark many years ago. There were curvy patterns in the dusty road, with big circles in between the waves. It's a beautiful pattern that I'd seen on fabric. This turned out to be an elephant walking and dragging its trunk. We saw a lone bull elephant and crocodiles, and had a great time, but I'll always remember what an injured tree or dying antelope can do to protect its kind.

More about jobs and not having jobs

Unemployment is a complex issue in any country. In South Africa, the spectrum was broad: at any given time, there might be five employees lounging behind the "order here" counter in a restaurant, but the unemployment rate in other sectors is high. I'm glad those five people have jobs and don't wish unemployment for them, but I don't understand it.

Ronda explained that Apartheid kept many people from getting education, so the only jobs available for them are in blue collar industries -- mall security, service at restaurants, and construction. The short time we were there wasn't enough to study this inequality. Plus, we were tourists. We didn't want to solve any problems, though we were certainly aware of them.

I can't very easily talk about poverty and unemployment in South Africa without talking about races. I was hoping to avoid this subject, but I had a brief interaction with a black man late in our stay that made me acutely aware of how little I know. It is my lack of knowledge that is the subject of this entry, much more than any political situation.

The South African malls are beautiful. They have everything: restaurants, electronics, camera stores, grocery stores, clothing (their Woolworth's is the equivalent of our Nordstrom), and home furnishings. They are big and gorgeous. Remember, though, that they close at 6:00 (before dark), for safety reasons. That makes it hard for the average person to shop during the week. Everyone goes on Saturdays, and the malls are crowded. A lot of white people go to malls. Probably because of transportation and money, a lot of black people shop at roadside stands. Even with their intimidating size and early closing times, we enjoyed the malls.

One day, as we were leaving a store, headed for our car, I noticed a black security guard a few meters away watching me. Brian and Ronda were talking to each other, but I saw the guard and wondered why he was scrutinizing me. I hoped he didn't think I was shoplifting. Then it went through my mind that because we are white, we stand out. Not so much in a mall, but still we are white. Without making any more guesses, I waved and smiled at him. The previously serious guard waved and gave me the biggest grin I'd ever received from a stranger. I was so glad I hadn't regarded him as just another employee and ignored him.

We got to the parking lot, and I was still thinking about this man. I told Brian and Ronda about him as we reached the car. I was quite puzzled about why the man seemed to suspect me but turned out to be friendly. Was he waiting to see if I would acknowledge him? My (sort of) exact words were, "It almost seems like whites have treated them badly."

Ronda laughed. She said, "Let's see" and drummed her fingers on her chin. "Could whites ever have mistreated blacks in South Africa?"

It takes a trip to a country for me to learn. I knew about Apartheid and Nelson Mandela's imprisonment and rise to leadership. The little bit I know about South Africa was from the news and conversations with friends. I didn't know about racism until a black security guard watched me, seemingly wondering if I was another white person who would dismiss or mistreat him.

Remember belt loops and pockets?

There is an earlier blog entry about belt loops and pockets ("The many uses of a belt loop"). I recently saw another product that I would have been handy in South Africa. It was in my neighborhood Super Supplements -- "eco-lips" on D-rings. It is apparently a tube of lip protector, and I would have loved to have had it with me. I don't know that brand, but it was the same idea as the "High School Musical" hand cleanser that I kept clipped to my belt loop on the trip. I like clean hands and soft lips.

Oh, another important point about the tubes of hand cleanser -- the lid screws off. Add refillable to handy and cute; what more could a person want?

Going my way?

When people in South Africa get a good-paying job, one of the first things they buy is a car. Judging by the numbers of people walking, hitch-hiking, and piling into taxis, there are a lot of people in that country without good jobs.

There are several reasons for this. The main one is probably that there is simply a lot of poverty in South Africa. This in turn has many reasons. My purpose of these entries is not political, but I can't spend 3 weeks in a country without becoming somewhat aware of what makes it what it is. Some of the driving forces are quite visible -- the campaigning for the upcoming election, for instance. Ronda, having lived there for over a year (and earlier in Kenya and Tanzania), knows a lot about African countries. I know almost nothing, but I can do the history. Any country that has suffered wars, suppression, and Apartheid (very recently) the way South Africa has is going to have problems for a while. I am, however, attempting to restrict these entries to observations and experiences only and leave the political discussions to residents of the country.

Back to the people. A lot of people walk in South Africa. Children in uniforms walk to and from school, often a few miles. Women carry plastic tubs of things bought or things to sell on their heads, carefully, and they have excellent posture. A lot of people walk barefoot everywhere. I have thought this was a bad idea for many years, but in South Africa that's what they do.

Taxis are another interesting study. Ronda has been hassled by the drivers when she walks past the taxi ranks, and it's considered generally unsafe for an unescorted young woman to walk past them. I'm accustomed to people in the United States calling a cab to get to the airport or another important appointment once in a while. It seems expensive, so I don't do it very often. In South Africa, however, taxis are a part of everyday life -- for appointments, for visiting friends, and for most of their shopping.

I didn't even recognize them as taxis as first. I thought that big families were going on big picnics. The vehicles are the size of vans or mini-vans. People do their shopping and wait for a taxi going their way. Then they have to wait for the taxi to fill up. Then they have to hope that the taxi will get close to their destination. Sometimes arguments ensue.

The whole taxi scene was a source of amazement to me. In cities, car horns are heard constantly. Ronda explained that these announce the presence of not yet full taxis. That is the country's public transportation. Any outing can take most of a day -- riding in a taxi from a village to a station at a taxi rank, walking to another station, waiting for the taxi to fill up, on to the destination (at least the driver's idea of your destination), and then doing the whole thing in reverse.

Walking is another story, also amazing to me. People walk long miles to shop and return home. Men carry bags in their hands. Women carry items on their heads. The shoulders of country roads are narrow. There is often little more than a narrow path very close to fast traffic. It looks treacherous.

We saw quite a few hitchhikers. Ronda had to explain the signals to us. In the U.S., we (well, I've only seen it done) stick out a thumb. In South Africa, people either stick an arm straight up in the air (the way I would respond in class if I really, really knew the answer) or they raise their arm and point vaguely to their destination. It is an arcing, sweeping motion, translated: "I'm here, and I need to get there."

There are danger signs posted in some areas. They say, "Warning. High Crime Area. Do Not Pick Up Hitchers." Or something like that. The words "high crime area" stuck in my head. If a criminal stepped outside of the area, i.e., the other side of a sign, would it be okay to pick him up? Would his character have changed? I've never picked up a hitch-hiker and was glad to know that Ronda didn't want to. Brian had a great deal of sympathy for all the people walking and said that if we ever went back, we would haul a trailer and give a lot of people rides. Would that mean that we might have a whole trailer-full of criminals? As sympathetic as I was, I still wouldn't want to pick up a stranger. In an African country or my own country.

When planning the trip, I read that hitching is acceptable for tourists. I'm glad that we had a rental car and didn't have to walk long distances, hitchhike, or ride in taxis.

And they wonder why I was nervous

A little more about driving in South Africa. We had a great rental car. Well, the first one that Ronda rented in Johannesburg was not so great -- it had some mechanical problems. It also became clear to all three of us that we needed air conditioning in the car. We visited her in the "rainy season," which is summer, and almost every day was dreadfully hot. Thanks to a very nice rental agent, she was able to trade up. We got a bigger and nicer car with "air-con."

All the cars have the steering wheel on the right, and people drive on the left. It was quite confusing at first. Actually, it was still confusing when we left. I've just spent too many years driving on the right in cars that have steering wheels on the left. An accident is a scary thought, and Brian almost learned the lesson the hard way. I was in the back seat and didn't think anything of his left turn until I heard Ronda scream, "Move over! Move over!" I looked up and saw several things happening at once: Ronda's frantic arm movements that accompanied her vocal directions, Brian's quick spinning of the steering wheel, and a white pickup headed toward us. There was no accident at that time and place, but it wasn't because Brian didn't try. The next time he offered to drive, Ronda said, "Not unless you give me a lot of sedation and throw me in the back seat."

He redeemed himself later, when we got caught on bad mountain roads in a heavy rainstorm.

Oh, just give me anything.

We were in a KFC -- remember, I don't eat chicken, or any meat, but sometimes KFC was the closest eatery -- trying to order lunch. Everyone there spoke English, but Brian had trouble not only with the accent of the person taking his order but with the softness of his speech. It's pretty funny when English has to be translated for an English-speaking person, but it does happen.

Brian was tired of saying "pardon?" and cupping his hand behind his ear. He was ready to tell the person to give him five dollars worth of anything. Could a person faint from hunger in a restaurant, simply because he couldn't hear the responses?

I had my own ordering problems that particular day. I wanted mashed potatoes (no gravy) and corn. No one comprehended that. I got the potatoes but no corn. Ronda said that they don't serve corn. Strange because there were kernels of yellow corn in my veggie bites, along with the peas and cheese. Besides the salt and deep frying, it seemed that another nutritional problem with the veggie bites was that they were probably shipped frozen from a far-away place. I tried to ignore the negatives of all of that and was successful in enjoying my lunch. I tried, though, to calculate how many orders of little veggie bites I would need in order to pick out all the corn to get a good serving.

Ronda translated for Brian and the cashier, as well as for me. Ronda smiled and punctuated the finished order with, "Shop!" At least that's what it sounded like. I asked her, and she had to translate for me. She was saying an accented "sharp." A great descriptor for a lunch experience.

Mamba doesn't mean dance; it means run!

We saw only one snake in South Africa. There are probably more, but only one dashed across the road in front of our car. I like snakes more than most people, but they definitely fall into the "don't try to pet it" category, kind of like baboons.

The mambas, however, are in a category all their own, above and beyond cranky primates. They (green or black -- I'm not sure which one I'm talking about here) are among the deadliest snakes in the world. Snakes are generally not aggressive, and they try to camouflage themselves and slither away first -- attacking is a last resort. I fantasize that the one we saw was a black mamba, running away to avoid having to attack the car, exactly what I would want it to do.

About a month after returning home (U.S.), I was looking for something interesting on TV. The Discovery channel caught my attention, and soon the words "Kruger National Park, South Africa" flashed on the bottom of the screen. Now, since having visited my daughter in South Africa and spending 4 days in Kruger, there are few things that will hold my interest more, so I settled in to watch a story about one of the few people who has survived a mamba bite.

Mambas are very aggressive when disturbed or confronted, and this man suffered a bite on the back of one calf. He was a park ranger or something, so he knew what he had to do to survive, but still it was a frightening story. He used his belt for a tourniquet, walked slowly to his car, and then drove very quickly until he found people who took him to a hospital. He was losing his speech and vision by the time he collapsed in the back seat of someone else's car. The neurotoxic venom of the mamba shuts down a victim's nervous system, and cardiotoxins shut down the heart. This man spent two days in an intensive care unit, paralyzed, on life support. He's fine now, thanks to his quick first aid and the good hospital care he received.

Scientists are trying to figure out why mambas have such deadly venom. They only eat small rodents, but a small scratch from one of their fangs can kill a person. Another fact is that they are the only snakes (I think) that can get two-thirds of their body into a vertical position. They can grow to 9 feet long and can rise up to bite a person's face! After watching this presentation, I was especially glad that the snake we saw (especially if it was a small mamba) was fleeing.

Snakes are wonderful and mysterious creatures, and many people spend years searching for them. I'm generally content to look at them in zoos. I certainly would never seek out one that can run faster and bite deeper than I can.

Waterfall waterfalls

While working on the previous post ("Mr. Baboon, please don't throw that!"), which describes the hike to the waterfall, I struggled with whether "falls" would take a singular or plural verb. Does the "s" make it plural, or is that letter just part of the singular noun? We hiked to a "waterfall," which is singular, but "Niagra Falls" is also singular. Which is correct: "falls was," "falls were," or "fall was?"

If I haven't completely confused you, and you can quote an authoritative source, please respond. Our Webster's dictionary uses the word "usually" in this definition, so I don't trust it.

Mr. Baboon, please don't throw that!

Ronda knew of a waterfall and wanted to hike to it. I love water, as long as it's not too deep or too cold or the boat too small (ferries don't travel well in shallow, warm water, but that's my dream). As soon as I learned that we would only be looking at water, I agreed to the day's outing. It was near the Blyde River Canyon, but it may have been at any number of locations, as South Africa is pretty big.

Waterfalls are beautiful and mesmerizing, and we were hot (as we were pretty much every day there). The shady walk felt good. It was an easy hike until we got to the washed-out bridge. We looked for a narrow place in the stream. We found big rocks in the water that weren't too round or too far apart. It was dicey, but we made it across.

The falls were as gorgeous as we expected. We sat on big rocks and ate our energy bars and drank water. We took a few pictures, speculated on how high the waterfall was and if there was another above it, but basically we just relaxed and enjoyed the sight and sound of wildly splashing water.

Soon we heard voices behind us. Five young men approached us. One carried a small cooler, and the others each had a can of beer. We said hi, and I motioned for them to join us. There wasn't much extra space on the rocks, but I was willing to make room for them, as they were complaining about the heat and humidity, and their upper naked bodies were shiny with perspiration. One man said they were having a long bachelor party for his brother. Somebody was from Australia, or maybe he was from Capetown. It was a very short visit, so I don't remember all the details. Anyway, they declined our invitation and headed up the hill.

"Hill" doesn't accurately describe that climb. If it had been only a "hill," the three of us would have climbed it, to see if, indeed, there was another waterfall above the visible one. It was actually a rugged cliff. There were trees to grasp and places that resembled footholds, but I had no desire to scale it. Off the young adventurers went. The man carrying the cooler lost his balance. I wasn't sure if they'd make it safely, but they were buddies, on a mission of some type. He quickly righted himself, and they kept climbing, seemingly without fear.

We watched the water for a while longer, content just to be a part of the land.

The hike back was more difficult. I crossed the river at the same place, trying to use the same rocks, but they looked and felt different. A couple of times, Brian extended a hand to help me, but I refused it. Maybe I needed to do it on my own, to prove something, or maybe the thought of landing in the cold river (shallow and very rocky), with Brian on top of me, made me wary. It seemed that in the time I was carefully pondering my first step, Ronda had easily bounced all the way across. There's no need to compare my abilities to someone 24 years younger, but I was certainly aware of them.

We walked on toward the car, and Ronda stopped and asked, "What's that?" We all listened, but Ronda got it first: the sounds of angry baboons. We speculated that the young men had trespassed into the territory of a baboon troupe at the top of the cliff. The baboons sounded angry indeed. Brian asked what they would do to intruders. Ronda said that they are very mean, even to each other, and they bite intruders and throw feces at them. "Yep," she said. "I think they're the feces-throwing kind."

We left the waterfall, drove around a dam in the canyon, and back past the entrance to the waterfall hike. This took about two hours, and two cars were still parked in the shade -- the cars the bachelor party had arrived in. Near the cars was a large troupe of baboons eating fallen fruit on the road. For their size, they are ferocious, and I never wanted to get out of the car and pet one (remember, that's forbidden in Kruger but just plain dumb everywhere).

Was this the troupe that we had heard earlier? Had the young men surprised them at the top of the cliff? Did I ever feel bad for the men, if that was the case. Brian still wonders if they ever made it out of the woods and if the wedding took place.

The angry elephant or know where reverse is

We spent 4 beautiful days in Kruger National Park. Paul Kruger, born in 1825, was the first president of the Transvaal Republic (an area that once comprised northern South Africa, changed a few times by wars, of course), and things are named for him all across the country. The Park is probably the most well known, and he did a really great thing for South Africa when he set aside those millions of hectares. The specific number escapes me, which reminds me of trying to escape an angry elephant, the thesis of this entry. That story in a moment. Basically, a good part of eastern South Africa is park, as other groups and officials have added onto Kruger. It's a great idea, and I commend the country for protecting the animals and land.

As mentioned in an earlier entry, it is strictly forbidden to get out of your car when driving through the Park. There are campsites and some hides (for bird and animal watching), but the rules say to otherwise stay in your car, and don't dangle your arms or feet out either. We were grateful for our air conditioning, which made following the rules easier.

Brian was driving this particular day. He has driven pretty much every type of vehicle, so this stick-shift-steering-wheel-on-the-right car didn't bother him at all, and we were enjoying the drive. Animals would pop out at the darndest times, and we would stop and watch them. There isn't room enough to list all the animals we saw (pictures to follow). They were all magnificent, but there is something beyond magnificence about elephants. It is glorious to yield right of way to a herd crossing the road, but once Brian got too close.

Have I mentioned the lone bulls? They just kind of wander, eat, drink, and wait for an invitation from a female. That's my guess. They might be searching for a perfect snack or hoping to pick a fight with another bull. We saw a lot of them, and we saw a lot of small herds of females and young.

Back to Brian's error in judgment. It could have happened to anyone. We stopped to watch a herd cross the road. About the time that Brian decided to back up, to give them all of the road they wanted, one female thought we were a threat to the baby (again, that's a guess). She looked strong. And she was very, very big. Brian couldn't find reverse. She took a step toward us, and Brian's tugs at the shifter became more frantic. Mama elephant flapped her huge ears. Brian pressed the clutch in every direction but the right one. Ronda and I shouted helpful suggestions. The very strong, very big elephant raised her trunk and took another step. Brian jerked and stomped some more.

Mama elephant turned away from us and caught up with the rest of the family. Brian found reverse. We'd been warned.

It's cheap!

Mesh fruit/vegetable bags make excellent dish scrubbers.

The many uses of a belt loop

Pockets are handy (I occasionally wonder who invented them and why), as are belt loops. Before we left for South Africa, I wandered through a discount store looking for travel items. Did I ever find some! The biggest score was a toothbrush with floss in the handle. Unfortunately, there was not a second one available for Brian.

Down on a bottom shelf was a box of "High School Musical" pocket-sized hand sanitizers. Not only were they a nifty size, but they had a D-ring connected through a tab on the bottom. Strangely, there was a whole bunch of these available for $1 each. I bought three.

As we traveled through South Africa, I always had one clipped to a belt loop. If the restroom facilities were not to our liking (though many of them were bigger and better than any I've seen in the States), I could still wash my hands. After several hours of driving, we could sit down in a restaurant and wash our hands before eating. In the three weeks that we there, we only used half of one 53 ml container, and we all stayed clean. I highly recommend these, if you can find them, or something similar that you can clip to your belt loop or keep in your pocket.

If you don't want to carry your entire backpack around (who would?), just keep a few coins and a bill in your pocket. This will see you through toll roads and snack shops.

I seldom wear belts but bless the person(s) who invented belt loops and pockets.

Deep pockets

What to take to when visiting another country is a challenge, especially if it's your first trip there. We all have some essentials -- some for health (see former entry on medications and supplements) and some for comfort. These essentials are different for each person. Some may be universally helpful, however, as well as some things to remember when packing them. Like it or not, whether traveling alone or with friends, weird things happen.

Plastic bags (all sizes) are good for containing everything from bottled liquids to snacks to dirty clothes. Keeping these bags organized is essential for sanity (and a reasonable schedule) while traveling. This will help avoid the dreaded, "Have you seen...?" every time you pack and unpack, the anxiety of possibly having left it at the last backpackers, and the time lost searching.

Our last day was spent driving through the Drakensberg Mountains to Jo-burg where my husband and I would say goodbye to Ronda and board a plane for home (U.S.). We got a reasonably early start at the backpackers, and Brian cooked a wonderful vegetarian breakfast in the community kitchen. As we loaded up the car, however, Brian couldn't find his wallet. He had to return to work three days later (he's a city bus driver), and his ID and driver's license were in his wallet. The search was on: each backpack, the already vacated room, the office (lost and found), a computer to see about getting a replacement ID (it would take 30 days), each backpack again, the room again, the kitchen, the grounds. This all yielded only increasing frustration.

Ronda found it. It was small enough to have worked its way to the bottom of a small backpack. Brian and I had both gone through that piece of luggage, twice.

The lost wallet and resultant anxiety reminded me of other mishaps on the trip. They occurred because Brian and I had different methods of packing. When I ran across an item that I thought needed to be put with other like items, I moved it, not knowing that Brian had purposely placed it there. At one point, he reached for the new memory stick for our camera. He knew where he put it (in a bag on the back seat), and it wasn't there. This started the "Have you seen...?" routine, and I was happy to announce that I had placed it with the extra batteries for the camera. The batteries were in the trunk, and we were in Kruger National Park. The Park strictly forbids getting out of your vehicle. We were very respectful of this law (watch for an anecdote involving an angry elephant and another about baboons), so we passed the camera around and deleted pictures so that we could continue to document the trip until we left the Park.

When we got out of the Park and searched the suitcase in the trunk, we found the memory stick. It didn't fit our camera. This meant a trip to an electronics store in a mall where at least five employees tried to solve the problem (customer service there is great!). They were certain that their memory stick would fit our camera. It didn't. That meant hurrying to the camera store at the other end of the mall. That store was closing (closing time for almost all stores is 6:00 pm). That meant that we had to return the next morning and spend R400 (~$40) to buy a thumb drive and get the pictures downloaded so that we could continue taking pictures.

We packed the thumb drive and kept checking it, to make sure someone hadn't reorganized. The next time I go to South Africa (or another country where availability is limited), I will do things differently. I will start the packing and organizing earlier. For this trip, I had walked to a reliable drug store to purchase the memory stick. I had our existing one in my hand, showed it to an employee, and said, "I want a stick just like this one." He was helpful and knowledgeable, and showed me one that was on sale and had more room on it than the regularly-priced one. I love sales. I bought it. If it had not been buried in the packaging, I would have seen that it was not identical to the one in my hand. What this helpful and knowledgeable employee didn't tell me was that it might require an adapter. We have an old digital camera with only one memory stick, and adapters don't fit it.

There are a few other ways to make packing easier and less frustrating. One is to have each person assume a task while traveling: one person is in charge of clothing, another in charge of snacks, camera, and binoculars for the day's trip, etc. Another way is to communicate what's going on; "I'm putting the new memory stick here because the one in the camera is almost full" would have prevented my moving it. A third is to check out everything before it's actually needed -- in the store immediately after purchasing it is a good idea. We might have decided to buy a new camera before leaving the States, but, new camera or old, we would have avoided a lot of frustration in South Africa.

Losing a wallet isn't the only thing that can destroy even the most well-planned and generous schedule. Things go awry on trips that people can't anticipate: the stove doesn't work, the store closes earlier than we expect, or weather makes traveling impossible. The most organized and careful people can get tripped up by any of these.

Brian mentioned later that if he'd had some kind of a container for his wallet and other vital necessities every night, the mornings might have gone more smoothly. A plastic bag might work, although not as easily as the dresser drawer that he uses at home. Ikea sells stiff fabric boxes of various sizes that have a diagonal zipper in the bottom. Unfold it, zip the bottom shut, and -- voila! -- an instant cache. Remembering in which suitcase we packed it and setting it up each evening might be another task. It's a good idea, though not foolproof. The fact that there is probably no such thing as a foolproof idea when traveling (the possible exceptions might be to put gas in the car occasionally and to keep your money concealed) adds to the mystery and excitement of traveling.

See the next entry about the charm of belt loops.

We're not stopping in Ladysmith?

One thing I knew about South Africa was the music of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, though I reluctantly admit that I thought the group was from "Africa."

Ladysmith (a city, like Harrismith) was on our route, and as we passed it, I asked if we weren't stopping. Ronda (driving) said no, and I realized that the moment we are passing the exit for a city or lookout or some other attraction is not the time to tell the driver that I had wanted to go there.

If you are traveling with friends or family members, it's important to communicate expectations, changes, and disappointments. Communicating disappointments is difficult, and I've learned (in the distant past) that demanding an explanation or apology from the driver while flying down the freeway is not a good idea. I truly was disappointed that we missed our only chance to meet Ladysmith's famous musicians, but I hadn't done my part by getting it on the agenda much earlier. The breakfast table would have been a good place for that suggestion. Ronda would have told me that she was pretty sure that the group, if still together, was not booked for a luncheon concert at the Ladysmith KFC where we might be eating.

Communication is almost as important as transportation: there are several ways to reach a destination, but some are more comfortable than others.

Each person gets binoculars

It's a good idea to talk about differences before departure. It's essential, actually, if you're going to travel well together.

Everyone can contribute something to the trip. In South Africa, I practiced driving on the left in Ronda's village, Makotse, where the roads are sand and there's not much traffic (I passed one car in 15 minutes). That went well until I got stuck in the sand and had to be pushed out. I was also aware that driving in traffic, turning corners, etc., would be much different on paved roads, especially if I didn't have it all to myself. That made me nervous. Ronda did most of the driving, with Brian relieving her sometimes (you might remember the flooding dirt roads in the mountains), and I got my courage up again in the Drakensberg Mountains, our last day. Ronda enjoyed driving (the Peace Corps doesn't allow the volunteers to drive except when they're on vacation), and she was more comfortable with the English rules and laws than we were. She also planned 99% of the trip, but she lived in the country, after all, and knew what would be spectacular. We passed the camera and binoculars around (oh! why didn't we take our other two pairs of binoculars?), and I did some cooking and washing dishes (self-catering backpackers and apartments), as Ronda does all of that every day. Other tasks that can be distributed are map reading, grocery shopping, calling for reservations, checking in/out, asking for directions, laundry, carrying bags, and changing money.

It's great if everyone is happy with his/her tasks and everything gets done smoothly. Some conversations before departure will make this happen more easily.

Leaf-stitching ants

If you are traveling with friends or family members, there are a few things to ask beforehand.

Do you have the same reasons for going? Do you have similar sleeping and rising times? Will you want to see the same attractions? Or does one have to stay in big cities while another wants to white water raft or go rock climbing? If you answer yes to the last question, and you are still determined to share the trip, plan on going your separate ways occasionally. Just check the safety issues, to make sure you get back together as planned. In many countries, you can buy inexpensive cell phones to stay in touch. In South Africa, we found that there was usually only one room key. In St. Lucia, my daughter was sick and wanted to stay in bed for the afternoon and evening, while Brian and I wanted to go on the night tour. She stayed in while we went out, and we borrowed a second key from the manager so that we could come in at midnight without disturbing her.

By the way, the night tour (lighted only by the full moon and the driver's spotlight) to Cape Natal was well worth it -- a baby green chameleon, a herd of cape buffalo (~100), zebra, bushbucks, hippos, bats, a snake eagle and other birds, reedbucks, and leaf-stitching ants -- but I bring it up only because both parties did the right thing. Ronda needed to stay in bed, which was a wise choice, as the bouncing night trip on non-roads would have made her much sicker. Brian and I had a great time. More about animals in a later post.

Throw in a poncho

Know what "rainy season" and "dry season" mean when you schedule your trip. I had to keep reminding myself that South Africa was headed into fall while the United States was headed into spring, and we checked the temperature of Jo-burg on the Internet the few days before we left home. Of course, there can always be a surprise or two -- heavier rain than usual or a cold spell -- so plan for these with a poncho and an extra shirt. An umbrella is an excellent idea year-round in the tropics (and subtropics), for both sun and rain protection (also an good idea for a hostess gift, as umbrellas made in South Africa, for instance, don't last long). "Wrinkle-free" garments will keep you looking nice (I took a beautiful wrinkle-free Talbot's light blue, long-sleeved shirt that I found on sale, which kept its brand-new look through several washings), but soft cotton garments and washed linen also travel well. A small deodorant crystal will keep you smelling nice. You can always feel good, however. There's great stuff to experience everywhere, even if a hard rain or the hot sun keeps you indoors, the mountain gets socked in, or the humidity wears you out. Have a Plan B -- a magazine, TV, solitaire, or talking with the other visitors who are also waiting for the weather to break.

No matter how fickle the weather is, your trip can still be fun. Well, it won't all be fun. We had a rental car and were traveling alongside Swaziland in the mountains and got caught on 50 miles of a dirt road in a rainstorm. When the floods started across the road, I got nervous. My husband had had some experience driving on bad roads in mountains, so he got us out, with the only damage being a very dirty car. We were there in the rainy season, but there was only that one day of hard rain. Even if rain had kept us in our rooms for days at a time, we had playing cards, bars, Milo, and good attitudes.

Has anyone seen my yoga mat?

If you are a spiritual person, plan ahead for a time and place for that part of your life. Even if you are not a spiritual person, some time alone for yoga or deep breathing can boost your energy on your trip. Just lying quietly for a few minutes, away from all the things to do and places to go, can be as refreshing as a night's sleep and as important as that highly recommended museum, store, or restaurant. If you meditate daily, continue that practice on your trip, whether you are in South Africa or Scotland. If you have favorite religious books or pamphlets, take them with you, so they will be at your fingertips when you wake up or before you go to sleep. Keeping that routine may very well keep you sane as you travel.

Food: is there any other reason to travel?

My first question about South Africa was: "I won't have to eat meat, will I?"

Being a vegetarian and loving most animals (especially goats), I was concerned. I bought energy bars. Many, many energy bars. I considered carrying single servings of soy milk and carrying a duffle or backpack just for food. I bought more bars.

Our initial trip included Madagascar, the country west of South Africa that is home to lemurs, vanilla, ariary (money), Malagasy (people), the biggest and oldest baobab tree, and many, many other items of interest. Unfortunately, a civil war broke out shortly before our departure, and the Peace Corps would not allow my daughter to go, which meant we couldn't go. Really big bummer! Oh, yes; the reason I brought up Madagascar -- it's hard to find good vegetarian meals consistently in Madagascar. It's much easier in South Africa.

Eating in South Africa was downright fun, and they had loads of vegetarian food. We all ate my bars and the dark chocolate we took to Ronda, but if there was a mall, there was a restaurant that served something wonderful for me. South African people are big on chicken -- really, really big. If there is a town, there is a KFC. They don't seem to know what those letters stand for, but that's not as important as the items on the menu -- chicken, chips (see entry on language), cold drinks (their term for pop), chicken, and chicken. One person asked my daughter if the United States has KFC. Ronda told that person that the "K" stands for Kentucky where she was born! But the important thing to South African people is that the "C" stands for chicken, which they think is the most wonderful food on earth (well, maybe maize comes in first). KFC has one fun little menu item that I liked very much. It is "veggie cheesy bites." These are deep-fried "bites" of cheese, peas, and corn. They are really, really good -- they can't possibly be healthy (the salt and deep frying were my first clues), but what the heck. At one KFC I had a second order; my husband deigned to help me eat them.

Ronda had discovered "Milo," a Nestle's chocolate/malt drink, high in vitamins and minerals. I found it accidentally here and bought a can. Marmite is an interesting product in South Africa. It is a "yeast extract," a dark brown, salty spread. Nutritional yeast is a very healthy food for vegetarians, as it's high in the B vitamins. I didn't really like the Marmite on my morning toast, though, being accustomed to butter and orange marmalade. When the hostess at one B&B offered Marmite, I agreed because I heard "marmalade." You can imagine my surprise.

We spent one night (our last one) in the Drakensberg Mountains, about five hours south of Jo-burg. The Amphitheatre Backpackers (hostel) had rock climbing tours, restaurant, hot tub, and bar -- pretty cool. They had an excellent vegetarian entree offered at each meal, plus several vegetarian side dishes.

So, sticking to my diet was pretty easy. Of course, Ronda had been there for a year and a half and was an excellent restaurant guide. She took us to Nando's and Wimpy's and Spur (all named for Native American tribes) and knew who served good ice cream. When all else failed, there was always KFC. And bars.

Where can I get a manicure?

Do you need a shower every day? Wash your hair daily? Can you do without hair moisturizer? I have heard that moisturizer can work as shampoo and moisturizer, but I've never tried this. Don't want to.

Somehow I took two tubes of mascara to South Africa and didn't use either one. Would have looked better with it but should have left it at home.

Know what you absolutely must have and what you can leave at home. Traveling is the time to be balanced, not perfect. It's more important to feel good than to look good (easier too). To that end, I suggest No Jet Lag, a homeopathic that helps with the adjustment of flying, a minimum of makeup (for women), and a good attitude.

If you get a haircut and clip/file all your nails a few days before your departure, those are two fewer things to deal with as you travel.

May I bring you another diaper?

Not all English words have the same meaning. We (Americans) call "bangs" (as in hair) what people in the United Kingdom call "fringes." What we call "chips" (as in potato) other people call "fries" (as in "Tower burger and chips, please"). Something to clip clothes on a line here is a "clothes pin," but in the UK and other English-speaking countries, it is a "peg." Our "napkin" (something to place in our lap in a restaurant) in South Africa is a "serviette." My daughter warned us that if we ask for a napkin, as we are accustomed to doing in the United States, we might be presented with, first, a confused look and, second, a "nappie," a baby's diaper.

English isn't always American, thank goodness.

Not the whole language, of course

Learn some phrases and common courtesies ("Hello. How are you?" is important). If people know you are trying, your stay will be more pleasant.

I also learned that offering to help with a project helps. I think the women were talking about me as we sat around (the Makotse Women's Club in the village where my daughter lives in South Africa) and peeled marula (fruit) for an upcoming festival. Even if I'd learned "hello" and "thank you," I wouldn't have been able to follow the conversation, but they might not have spoken so frankly, not being exactly sure how much of their language I understood. By the way, if you want to learn about one use of the marula, look up "Amarula, marula fruit cream," a nifty little 36-proof refreshment.

Tomorrow, more on language -- English.

What do you reach for at home?

Know your body (part 2). What do you reach for when you bang your knee, strain a muscle, feel a cold coming on, or burn your finger? Yes, variations of these happened to me in South Africa. I wished for Arnica, Calendula, Pain-Eze, Emergen-C, and Unguentine. Pack your favorite first-aid products because one or all of these things may happen on your trip. Just in case....

Chia seeds and other little things you hope don't get scattered in your suitcase

Know your body. What medications and supplements do you take? A couple of weeks before departure, I laid out all my bottles (it seems to be edging on 3 figures) and decided that if I wanted room for my swim suit and an extra shirt, I'd better leave some containers at home. That was my first mistake (others to be described later). I take a variety of pills and powders (and Chia seeds). Some are absolutely essential medications to keep my body working properly. I wasn't sure how essential the supplements were, so I left several of them at home. Sadly, some pesky problems began my second day in South Africa, and my daughter took me to a pharmacy in J0-burg. That was a fun outing, in that the owner was a very nice man whose daughter owns Poleci (pronounced like "policy"), a high-end clothing line, in Los Angeles. He carefully suggested products, which I bought, but it was not how I wanted to spend time in a great big country that I'd never seen before.

I've come to love my chia seeds. They crunch so nicely when mixed in with my fiber drink. I decided to leave them at home because seeds and fiber were two of the supplements I thought I could skip for 3 weeks, and having a Baggie of chia seeds split open in my suitcase was something I wanted to avoid. Now, I don't know if skipping those 2 products did my body any harm (probably not, but I'm choosing to worry about it just a little), but I regretted leaving that part of my daily routine at home.

The added benefit to taking everything with you is that everything is in one place when you arrive at home, and it's very simple to continue the routine.

Check back for more obvious and aggravating health problems while traveling.

In an elephant's footprint -- South Africa

We finally did it! My husband and I traveled to South Africa to see our daughter who is in the Peace Corps in a village called Makotse (north of Pretoria and Jo-burg). When she went to South Africa the summer (OUR summer) of 2007, we started wondering if we could make the trip. We finally decided that since she had foisted her two cats, Cheza and Aluna, off on us, it seemed only fair that we dump them on someone else, if only for a short time.

We wrangled time off from our two jobs from February 14 to March 6, 2009, and started a 20-hour trip (that's just one way!) to a country we'd never dreamed of visiting. Since travel, even internationally, is pretty ho-hum these days, I won't go into a lot of detail about luggage, being cramped in economy seats, which is the best airline, and dropping my suitcase in order to hug a loved one, but I will get some pictures uploaded (be patient; we had some problems with our camera) and share some traveling experiences to a different country. Who knows -- there may even be some helpful tips.