It doesn't matter much which end you look at...

There are other non-beautiful animals, of course.  Lots of them.  But in some cases their lack of millihelens is immaterial. Rhinos are a prime example.  They exude raw Power.  Ugly, yes.  Masterful, absolutely.  The Henry Kissinger of animals.

The awesome Black Rhino

Hippos are different.  Their homeliness tends toward the comical.  I’m not sure why, because they can certainly be dangerous.  Perhaps it’s the eyes and ears above the water—they do look pretty goofy.

Peek-a-boo!

There were two types of antelope in the Phinda Game Reserve: the impala, and the nyala.  The impala and the female nyala are exquisitely graceful and beautiful.  The male nyala is—well—unusual.  And very interesting-looking, with a conspicuous crest down his neck and back and lyre-shaped horns.  He’s dark grey, with bold white spots on his face—on the bridge of his nose—and thin white stripes on his back.  A handsome beast, actually.

Having a drink in our plunge pool!

The female is reddish-brown, with white stripes across her back.

Just two cute!

The impala is better-known.   They are the ones with black and white stripes on their rumps, but otherwise plain reddish brown.

Okay, you caught me; there is a third kind of antelope.  I gnu you would ask.  He’s a large dark antelope with a long head, a beard and mane, and a sloping back. Also called a wildebeest.  It’s just that when talking about the beautiful impala and nyala, it seems a shame to lump them in with the not-so-handsome wildebeest.

Wildebeests being chased by a young lion--for practice, I think...

I’m not sure what to say about the cape buffalo.  He is at once the epitome of power and menace, and downright silly-looking.  The horns and ears do nothing for his image.  If he weren’t one of “The Big Five” it would be difficult to take him seriously.

Giraffes fascinate me.  I don’t understand how, despite their gangling appearance, they manage to appear graceful.  And in spite of the ridiculous positions nature has forced them to adopt—as when getting a drink of water–they seem to do it with dignity.  It’s exciting to see one emerge from behind a tree.

Rather like a Jack-in-the-box--they just pop up unexpectedly

Zebras really do look like very sturdy horses, but apparently they aren’t as sturdy as they look.  I always wondered why they were never domesticated, but it turns out their backs aren’t strong enough to take the weight of a rider or other weight to make them useful as a pack animal.  Another thing I hadn’t known is that at least some of them have secondary brown stripes between the black and white ones.

The only elephant we saw was making use of an otherwise deserted watering hole.  S/he was having a fine time making a stand-up mud bath by squirting water onto the steep bank, then rubbing her/himself in the mud.  It was quite a performance.  It was getting very dark, so the photos of it are not very good.

Mud bath!

I’m sure you are all waiting to hear about the big cats.  Well, I can report that, although no leopards were spotted (haha), we did spend a long while watching a cheetah and her two cubs eating a freshly killed impala.  The cubs were hoeing into it with gusto while mother lay a short distance away, panting from the chase.  When the cubs had had their fill, and she had cooled down, she, too, went to eat.  Neither she, nor her cubs, showed the slightest interest in us.

Still hot from the chase

The kids get to eat first, while mom cools down

A face even a mother could love!

A similar story unfolded the following day when a lioness and her two cubs feasted on a wildebeest.  It didn’t seem to be such a fresh kill, and by the time we arrived the cubs had taken off to pester a herd of wildebeest (having just eaten, they were no doubt just ‘practicing’).  The lioness spent a lot of time trying to pull the wildebeest further into the bushes so as not to be visible to vultures.  She tugged and pulled, to no avail, until she finally worked out that she would have better luck from another angle.  The deed was eventually done, and she settled down to feast.  Like the cheetah, she took no interest in our presence.

Mother lion--her turn to eat

First she has to drag the wildebeest into the thicket so the vultures won't see it.

It was a fascinating lesson in how life is played out in the African bush.  It mostly feels very tranquil and quiet.  But just occasionally one of the predators decides she is hungry.  The most vulnerable animals travel in groups.  The more secure you are, the smaller your group.  Rather like us, I suppose.               MM

Try not to fall in love with Cape Town when you look at him!

I’ve yearned to visit Cape Town for years.  From the first time I watched a cricket match played there, in fact.  My only disappointment on this visit was that I didn’t get to go to a match.  Rats.  But I did go up onto Table Mountain, and the views were spectacular–every bit as stunning as Rio—as was the sail-in.

Sailing in to Cape Town

Table Mountain towers over Cape Town

The final part of the trip up to the top of Table Mountain was made in a cable car.  A large cable car, which had a revolving floor, giving everyone 360^o views.  It meant not touching the window, lest you be shifted off-balance, but once I got the hang of it, it was wonderful.  As wonderful as the views themselves were the rock formations up the side—very close at hand, much of the time. They looked as though they were the product of sculpture rather than erosion.  I felt like a child—me as a child—lying in the grass, looking at shapes in the clouds. My favorites were the smallish outcroppings that looked like the gargoyles on European churches.

Cable care up the mountain

Reflecting on CapeTown

Following the trip up the mountain, we (a tour group) were taken to another  place for “Sundowners,” where we again had a splendid view overlooking the city and the harbor, and best of all, a front row seat to watch the sunset.  Champagne (and, presumably other drinks—I wouldn’t know) was served, along with an impressive spread of nibbles.  Nibbles—I use the term loosely.  Most of us didn’t need to go to dinner later.   And the sunset didn’t disappoint.

Food for the tummy while we await the feast for the eyes

The Guinea Fowl await the sunset with us

And no one is disappointed

The following day I went with friends into town.  The street markets are everywhere, and extensive.  I don’t know how the shops manage to compete! There are numerous street cafes amongst it, with African music—always involving wonderful drums–providing the soundtrack. I never really did figure out the exchange rate between the dollar and the rand.  Most places took either or both.  Literally, both.  I kept using up what rand I had and having to find ATMs to take out more.  In between, I was using a

Market scene in Cape Town--one of many...

combination of USD and rand.  The locals seemed able to do the exchange.  I still have no idea what the correct amount should be.  I heard so many variations on the theme that I just gave up and let them do it.  I never felt ripped off, so even if someone scored a bit extra off me, I don’t mind.  In markets like that I never feel like I need to get a great bargain.  If an error is made, it should be in their favor.  I love my purchases.  I just won’t love having to figure out how to get them home.

Cape Town  is a tidy city, with visual beauty all around.  But it’s not without its quirks.  For example, you will note that in the beach photos, all of the lounges have their backs to the water.  No one goes to the beach to swim—too damn cold—they go for the sun.

Another of my favorite views of the city is the one showing the Road to Nowhere.  (Not ‘Nowhere Else’—that’s in Tasmania).  This is a freeway that ended abruptly when the funds ran out—around 1974.  The locals don’t seem to be bothered about it—a bit like the crack in the ceiling that you cease to notice after a while…

The Road to Nowhere

The ‘burbs’ around Cape Town are no less beautiful:

With the Twelve Apostles overlooking the town

Just more eye candy for the traveler…

A lot of new people got on the ship in Cape Town, many more than got off, so the boat is chocka.  It has a different feel about it.  I don’t yet know what that means, except that at the start of every ‘segment’ of the World Cruise, we have a series of Groundhog Events to welcome the new people.  These include: the Captain’s Welcome Cocktail Party, the Solo Travelers Get Acquainted Cocktail Party, a Venetian Society Cocktail Party, and a flurry of invitations to “join” one officer or another at his/her table for dinner.  This, of course, includes a mix of the “old and new” passengers.  The operative word here is “old.”  I dutifully attended the first couple rounds, but have been hiding out in my room just lately.  Best way to keep a lid on the alcohol consumption…         MM

PS:  Next major destination is Durbin, where I shall join a group of other intrepid (yeah, right) travelers on an overnight safari.  Stay tuned!

3D Postage Stamps

3D Postage Stamps -- Truly!

Okay, All you philatelists, pay attention!  This is for real.

I would never have picked it.  Who would have?  Imagine!  3D stamps!  They come with their own 3D glasses, which are festooned with pictures (of dinosaurs, of course) to match the stamps themselves.  What I don’t get is, do the people who receive the mail with the 3D stamps get the glasses? Or are they supposed to have their own?  Does it cost extra to enclose the glasses in letters to send them to the recipient?  These are international postage stamps, intended to be placed on post cards, so that seems unlikely.  I just don’t get it.  But I’m sure they must be a real treat for collectors—with or without the 3D glasses.

Does any other country sell 3D stamps besides South Africa?  I don’t wish to seem cynical, but it did occur to me, when looking closely at the stamps, that they could have simply been a misprint, and rather than throw out the whole batch, some clever post office person suggested issuing them with 3D glasses and pretend they were printed that way intentionally.  Somehow I don’t think the idea is going to catch on.

Forget Balloon Animals

I have something new for you.  Towel Animals.  My butler (we all have butlers on the Silver Whisper) recently left me a sweet note welcoming me back on board after a day ashore, and with the note was a cute fluffy animal, with a rose in its hand (?) and wearing my sun glasses.  I thought it was adorable, and thanked her for my pig.  She erupted into peals of laughter—it wasn’t a pig, said she.  It was a dog.  Nevermind, she was pleased I liked it.  I hadn’t disturbed it, leaving it sitting coyly on my sofa.  I’ll leave it to you to decide whether I was right to think it was a pig…

Does this look like a pig, or what

Well, folks, today the Pig was joined by a new animal.  This time even I could work out that it is an elephant.  She tells me it is called Jumbo, so naturally I have named the Pig “Mumbo.”  I await further develoments in the Towel Animal Department.   I shall keep you posted (though not with 3D stamps).  As you can see, having a butler is a definite plus.

Mumb & Jumbo

Meanwhile, I am trying to get my head organized to tell you about CapeTown.  It is a special place and I do want to share a bit of it with you.  Stay tuned!        MM

It’s another sea day, following a rather looong sea night.  I wouldn’t wish to complain—so I won’t—but some of my fellow passengers might.  We’ve turned south now, from Walvis Bay, Namibia, heading toward Cape Town, S. A.  Those of you who are more boaty than I am can certainly correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that as we sailed west-to-east from South America to Africa the movement of the boat was rolling, and now that we are heading from north to south, it has changed to pitching.  I don’t know if that accounts for the added roughness of the ride, but it’s fair to say that you could fire a cannon in any of the public areas on the ship and not hit anyone.  People are staying in their rooms in droves.  Even my butler admits to being seasick.  I, however, am not.  When I recall my adventure in the Southern Ocean, en route to Macquarie Island, this all seems rather tame.

You may recall I wrote about Things That Go Bump In the Night.  All manner of things moved around the room throughout that night, and in the morning everything that had been on the vanity was in the sink.  Well, here I haven’t even seen a pen roll!  I do admit that walking is a challenge…actually, it’s more like lurching.  And weaving and bobbing.  I sort of enjoy the fact that everyone has a funny walk—it’s a great leveler.  Those of us who don’t move as gracefully as others can revel in our moment of equality.

Quite apart from the pitching—and lurching—the sound effects are awesome.  As we slam headlong into the waves, the crashing and banging sounds are thunderous.  One wonders how the ship holds together.  And then one snuggles deeper into the doona and goes back to sleep.  Briefly.  Not a night for sleeping—only catnapping.  In my cabin there is a weird, rhythmic moaning sound, rather like an exhausted cow trying to climb out of a deep hole.  It doesn’t bear thinking about.

But as I said, I wouldn’t want to complain.  Not about that, anyway.  Only that I woke up sounding like Barry White again.  And my eyes are the brightest red you ever saw.  So I’ll be hiding out in my room, too.  It doesn’t pay to gloat about not being seasick.         MM

For those of you who may have wondered about this, I am pleased to report that onion bags—100#weight—are suitable for use in the building of boats.  Please note: I’m talking about empty onion bags here; I seriously doubt they would be as effective if still filled with onions.  Also note, as they are entirely porous they will only work when wrapped around something that floats, such as empty soft drink bottles.

In case there are people out there who are not—or have never been—actively engaged in the building of a boat, I should explain why I mention this.  On the Silver Whisper we have just had the annual boat-building contest.  For reasons for which I have no explanation at all, I found myself on one of the teams.

Let me just pause here for a brief, but perhaps relevant digression.  I am a bit “delicate” today.  Not delicate enough to be described as sick, but unwell.  This actually has a couple advantages:  first, I sound like Barry White, which is pretty cool.  Second, it gives me an excuse to hole up in my cabin (or “suite” as they are called on the Whisper) and write.  Also, it may go some way toward explaining the whole boat-building affair of the last few days.

Despite my protestations that I didn’t have time—or interest—for boat-building, my pathetic skills were co-opted by three friends.  My mistake, I think, was suggesting names for both the Team and the boat.  More about that later.  Suffice to say, I was given the job of Creative Director on the spot.

The team confers

Work gets underway quickly

I won’t bore you with the minutiae of what went into the boat, or how it was accomplished, but will summarize a few of the Lessons Learned and Things That Worked

• It helps to have a design—or at least vague notion of what kind of boat it is to be at a fairly early stage
• Every Team needs a Procurement Officer who is willing and able to browbeat any and all personnel on the ship to acquire whatever is needed
• You can never have too many Onion Bags
• You can have too many pop bottles
• The Procurement Officer’s suite cannot be cleaned for the duration of the project
• Do Not volunteer to be the Procurement Officer
• It is important to suck up to at least one of the Judges
• Enlist as many non-boat-building entertainers as possible to ensure that a good time will be had by all, even if the boat sinks when it hits the water
• Never pass up an opportunity to be gracious in defeat

Our boat became a Lifeboat, which was perfect, given that the onion bags were Bright Orange.  The Cruise Director on the Whisper is a well-known and well-liked fellow named Fernando, so naturally the Lifeboat was named Fernando’s Hideaway.  Our next port-of-call is Walvis Bay, Namibia  (ETA two hours from now, as I write), so our Team was called The Walvis Bay Babes.  Our Procurement Officer managed to finagle crew shirts for us, so we could be in uniform—complete with epaulets.  We looked very smart.  But the very best part of it all was that we had the participation of a number of very (!) talented performers onboard.  One of the ship’s entertainers, Vicky, (there’s a great group of six singers) introduced the boat wearing a mermaid costume and singing Fernando’s Hideaway  (words adapted appropriately).  AND—we were privileged to have as our God Mother and God Father two outstanding, internationally acclaimed jazz musicians!  Judy Carmichael, jazz pianist and vocalist, and Pete Neighbour, jazz clarinetist.  Judy tried to christen our little boat with a bottle of champagne, but Pete managed to stop her just in the nick of time.

Fernando inspecting his namesake "Fernando's Hideaway"

The Competition

"Our Songstress of the Sea, our Musical Mermaid, Vicky, introducing "Fernando's Hideaway"

She Floats!

Our Lifeboat floated perfectly, and held more cargo than the Competition, but I guess it wasn’t as…beautiful.  Nevermind.  Our aim was always to have fun and be entertaining, which we were.  So it will come as no surprise, I’m sure, when I report that even though we won the popularity contest hands down, the—dare I say pedantic?—Judges determined that the Other Team had built the better boat.

But we happily embraced the opportunity to be gracious in defeat.      MM

Our Glorious Team

Sean, singer and Musical Director of the Project, Dianne, Procurement Officer, Judy, Jazz pianist and singer and Project GodMother, Vicky, singer and musical mermaid,  Meyer, singer and technical advisor for the Project, Julia, Team Captain (top), Janet, (in front)Project Engineer, Moi, Creative Director, and Pete, God Father and clarinettist.

Approaching Rio De Janeiro

Sailing into—or out of—Rio de Janeiro is simply spectacular.  Indeed, no matter where you are, in or near Rio, the views are stunning.

A New Marketing Strategy—Rio Style

I’m here to tell you that the art auctions on P&O and Cunard cruises are amateur acts compared to the Jewelers From Rio.  What they do is get on the ship as a regular passenger, usually the port before Rio, and just mingle and make friends with everyone else.  And, to anyone who is interested, they offer (free) a private car with driver and guide for the day (or part thereof) to take you wherever you want to go.  The only catch is, you will also be taken to their store in Rio…No obligation to buy, just to look.

There were, to my first-hand knowledge, three such ‘representatives.’  But, alas, only two days in Rio, so one was not able to sample the wares of all of them…  The first afternoon my friend, Dianne, and a young man named Jason  from England – a superb pianist who had been onboard to give a couple excellent concerts — and I were hosted by Saban Jewelers of Rio.  We first went to the Sunday flea market, which was busy and fun,

At least one stall holder found it all too much

then to the Saban shop, which was on Copacabana Beach.  Their jewelry was gorgeous.  (Purchases were made.)

We were returned to the ship in time to get ready for the evening’s entertainment—a lively and colorful, and very cheeky ‘Carnival’ performance by about thirty local dancers and musicians.  In traditional Brazilian style, the costumes consisted mostly of feathery headdresses, thongs, and…silicone.  But  great colour and rhythm…

The next morning our host for the day—this time from Ben Bros Jewelers—was ready to collect us promptly at eight.  We had a full agenda, starting with Corcovada (which means ‘hunchback, and describes the shape of the mountain on which the iconic and imposing statue of Christ stands and towers over Rio).

"Christ the Redeemer" on Corcovado

Much to the annoyance of our guide, however, it turned out that none of our quartet of women had any (or at least enough) Brazilian money to get us into the site.  An unplanned detour back into the city to find a bank that was open was required.  Brazil is a bit awkward in that regard—no ATMs except in banks.  At least it was awkward for us.  But finally the deed was done, and maybe the detour was to our advantage, as our driver took us via a ‘shortcut’ to Corcovado which I’m sure was better than the usual route.

It was a steep and winding climb, lined with interesting—and sometimes grand—houses. Views everywhere. It would be difficult to find a spot in Rio that didn’t have a spectacular view!  A little way into the National Park we had to transfer to a bus that would take us to near the base of the statue where we would take a lift, then escalators.  I needn’t describe the statue—pictures are better—but the crowd was amazing.  One could scarcely move, and apparently it is like that all of the time.  Many people wanted their photo take with their arms outstretched, like the Christ; it seemed to be the thing to do.  Apart from the statue itself—which is quite compelling in its beauty and simplicity—the 360^o views were awesome.

View from Corcovado

Next stop:  Ben Bros Jewelers.  I will only say: purchases were made.  Then on to lunch, which was at a typical (and very popular) Brazilian barbeque restaurant.  Everything except the meat was available at an extensive buffet.  The meat was brought around on large skewers by waiters who would slice it off directly onto your plate.  I didn’t sample the meat, but my companions did and all three reported it was delicious.  I guess it would be—we were in Brazil, after all.

Rio was a surprise to me in some ways.  It didn’t have the smothering density that you find in Sao Paulo.  It’s a  big, busy city, but not suffocating.  Of course, the beaches everywhere help…  Ipanema and Copacabana are only two.

Sand Castle on Copacabana Beach (sorry for the quality of the photo--was taken from a moving vehicle)

On to Sugarloaf.  Even though it is not as high as Corcovado, I liked the views better.  We took two cable cars up to the top, where the crowds were not nearly as dense as at Corcovado.  Again, pictures are better than words here.

View from Sugar Loaf

As you can no doubt guess, I loved Rio.  I’d never had a burning desire to go there, but I’m very pleased that I did.  And I have some rather nifty momentos to remind me what a swell place it is…          MM

My beautiful Brasilian dancing doll

Spot the Tourist

It isn’t that I “stand out” so much as stick out—as in sore thumb. I’m the type of person that would prefer to ‘blend in’ with he crowd, but it was never my fate to do that.   Over the years there have been many reasons for my inability to blend in, but these days it is enough that I’m a tourist a lot of the time.  We all know the telltale signs that shout “Hey!  I’m a tourist!”

• Camera over the shoulder
• Map & guidebook in hand
• Following a leader with a rubber chicken (or equivalent) hoisted high above the crowd
• Clothes  — often depicting the previous port of call (see my previous comments on this)
• Tote bags – especially those with the name and logo of the tour company
• Hats one would never wear at home
• Brand new walking shoes
• Sunburn

I’m sure you get my drift.

I’m not suggesting that there’s anything wrong with looking like a tourist—Heavens no!  Indeed, it’s part of the fun of travel—anonymity gives you license to look like a goose if you want to, so long as you respect the local cultural standards.

I do find that tourists in groups can sometimes be obnoxious, however.  It doesn’t matter where they are from—maybe a mix of nationalities—there seems to be this feeling of being inside a big bubble that isolates them from everyone else. Inside this bubble they can laugh too loudly, talk too loudly, and make general pests of themselves to waiters and others.  Perfectly nice, polite individuals seem to be transformed into insensitive clods the minute they are in the midst of a little enclave.  I’ve seen it all over the world—in restaurants, trains—wherever travellers gather in groups. I hasten to add I’m as bad as everyone else when I’m in a group.

Why do we do it?  I understand the dynamics of group behavior in other situations, but for the life of me I can’t quite get it with tourist groups. Is there a sociology student out there looking for a project?

Even on board ship it’s easy to identify tables where diners are a group, not just a collection of people seated together.  It doesn’t matter whether they started out as a group, or bonded over dinner and became a group—they’re the ones having fun!  Aha!  Now I’m getting warm.  I think I may have just cracked it: the reason a noisy group is irritating is not because they are behaving differently, but because they are having fun and I’m not.  Hmmmm.  I guess it doesn’t really need a sociologist to figure that out.  Rats. I thought I was onto something.                 MM

I’m sitting in the Observation Lounge on the Silver Whisper, watching …well, not much.  “Water, water everywhere..nor any drop to drink…”  So I’m drinking coffee.  It perhaps goes some way toward explaining why there is a “Martini Tasting” scheduled for 11:30 a.m. (about an hour and a half from now).  Martinis are not my cup of tea, so I shall give that a miss.  Am thinking ‘swim’ instead.

I love sea days—no scurrying around to be at the gangplank at a set (read: early) time.  Yesterday we were in Belem, Brazil for the day.  I didn’t go into town, opting to do a river trip instead.  ‘Twas a little underwhelming, to be honest.  The “key indicator” of underwhelmingness (Hah! See how easily I slip back into the old jargon, even after so many years retired?  I think it comes with being surrounded by “retired” business people who still think that way.  Give them time…)  But I digress.  As I was saying, the key indicator that I was underwhelmed was that I couldn’t stop thinking about how hot and muggy it was. I felt as if I had been dipped in molasses.  The local insects seemed to think so, too, as they couldn’t resist checking me out.  It did rain occasionally—briefly–which provided a fleeting respite from the humidity.  (When it actually rained, there were air spaces between the raindrops; the rest of the time the humidity was so dense it felt like I was doing the breaststroke just walking through it.

Amazonia is a remarkable place, but I won’t be remarking on it all that much.  There were several very knowledgeable guides on the river trip, and they each shared their considerable knowledge of the history, culture, flora, and politics of the region with us, but as I said earlier, I was busy doing the breaststroke.  Molasses, it turns out, provides an impenetrable barrier to learning.  I will, however, share a few photos I took along the way.  They speak for themselves.         MM

In which I discover the colours of reggae; and yes, Virginia, there are places with no litter…

Rosseau, Dominica

 On first impression, Rosseau, Dominica, appears almost prim and proper. The buildings along the waterfront are neat and well-kept, bustling with busy-ness.  It certainly does not feel like any of the island ports I’ve visited before.  No dockside marketplace to greet us as we disembark; no tourist-bureau-organised musical welcome; just the daily hustle.  Cabbies and ‘private tour guides’ chatting us up as we all go off to find our various tours, reggae music everywhere, and the colours.  Are they brighter because of the sunlight?  or are they really that vivid?

A waterfront market

Once my tour (The River Tubing Adventure!) departed, I’m pleased to say the ‘prim and proper’ image fell away to reveal a lively, energetic, and—to the observer, at least—exciting culture, full of variety, ingenuity, quirkiness, and joie de vivre.   And colour.  Oh! the colours!

...and contrasts

Take note, those of you who live in Virginia, There is no litter!

It was a long and beautiful drive to the point on the river (sorry—I don’t know the name of the river) where our tubing adventure was to begin.  In fact, the road was extremely twisty as it climbed steeply into the mountains.  One member of our group became miserably carsick, so our driver stopped the van to pick some lemongrass for her, saying it is an antidote to motion sickness.  He rubbed a handful together, releasing the scent, and she kept her face pretty much buried in it for the duration of the drive.  While she didn’t think it actually worked, I can report that on neither the initial, nor the return journey did she up-chuck, so maybe it at least helped.  And it made the van smell divine.   But I digress.

Because the drive was so long, and so high, I finally had to confirm with the guide that it was a river we would be tubing down, not a waterfall…  And, indeed, it was.  A gorgeous river.  I wish I had been able to take some photos along the way, but not only would my camera have been drowned, but I was too busy spinning around going through rapids and generally having a whooping good time to be taking pictures.

Where My Excellent Adventure Began

Our guides are waiting for us

As we drove back through the lush green forested countryside, dotted with pineapple and banana plantations, houses of all shapes, sizes, and colours—did I mention the colours?—I couldn’t help thinking what a perfect day it was.  And what a perfect place—filled with music and colour and laughter…I loved it.

We stop to sample some freshly-picked bananas

Stay tuned as the Excellent Adventure continues.  Next stop: Brasil!             MM

Road Town, Tortola

Okay, I’m  sucker for anything that begins with “eco-“  but when the hyphen is followed by “Kayaking and Snorkeling Adventure” it looked like (a) a really excellent adventure, and (b) I ought to know better.   Right on both counts.  It was excellent, and I should’ve known better—but I’m awfully glad I didn’t.

Not only was the kayaking lots of fun—and great exercise—but our leader was a marine biologist whose knowledge of the mangroves was terrific.  We all know that mangrove forests are a critical component in the health of our shorelines, but she was able to shed more light on the whys and hows of the mangrove ecosystem.  ‘System’ being the operative concept here.

Relax.  I’m not going to give you a biology lesson, but I will attach some online refs at the end, for those of you who are interested.  Wait…on second thought, you can google it as easily as I can.

Now.  About the kayaking.  I’m not completely without experience in these matters, but it is fair to add that my ‘experience’ is outside the range of ordinary living memory.  I was assured beforehand that it was “like riding a bike”—oh, s**t.  I can’t ride a bike.  ‘Nevermind,’ thinks I, ‘if I did it before I can do it again.’  And, indeed, I could.  At least as well as those who’d never done it before.  We were in 2-person kayaks, and I was in front.  I heard very little from the gentleman behind—I don’t know if he is just a quiet sort of person, was terrified, bored, or just busy concentrating.  It would have taken some concentration to keep track of what I was doing.  As in most things I do, I took a somewhat ‘creative’—or free-wheeling—approach. (Said another way, I don’t follow instructions very well.)  I don’t mean to sound boastful here, but I think my slightly unorthodox style added a certain element of … surprise to everyone’s day.

I did manage to be the first one to fall in the water.  Not into the water… I mean that grammatically—I was already in the water; I just fell over.  Everyone else was standing where there was a thick layer of sea grass underfoot.  I was standing in mud that was trying to be quicksand and my feet got sucked in at different rates.  Nevermind.  As refreshing as it was, it also had the dampening effect of identifying me as ‘high-maintenance’ to the guides. . . a reputation I could have done without.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Before I go, I have to tell you about one more sublime moment in my splendid day.  It was the sort of moment we all dream of.  That magical moment when . . . wait for it . . . a chicken ran across in front of the van.   YESSS!  And I at last had the opportunity to ponder aloud the age-old question, Why did the chicken cross the road?   What a moment…

Yes, she did cross the road, but I have no idea why...

Hot on the heels of that merry adventure, I was booked in for river tubing the following day in Dominica.   Stay tuned!              MM