Roma!

Oct. 8, 2003- Endless Flight
(photos:Spanish Steps,
Trevi Fountain-David and me)

We landed on time after an arduously long and boring flight. David told me our return trip from Rome to Atlanta will be twelve hours. That’s the same flying time as a trip we took from Minneapolis to Tokyo.

The monotony of the flight was broken up when I struck up a conversation with Tony, our gay flight attendant. We were chatting about travel and that led to talk about our families and ourselves. I asked if he had family in Texas and he said he did but it probably wasn’t what I had in mind. I then told him to ask me about my daughter and her new spouse Julie in Minneapolis. We bonded. He was raised in Vancouver, British Columbia and speaks Italian like a native. He now lives in Dallas with his partner who owns a dry cleaning business. An amusing moment occurred when he asked my name. I said that it was “Toby.” He responded with “Tony.” I corrected him by saying that my name was “Toby.” We figured it out and shared a good laugh.

As shades of orange and yellow were peeking over the horizon, we made landfall. City lights were glimmering below and my pal Tony called the captain to check our location. We were over Gatwick Airport in London. The rest was sheer splendor. We barely made out whitecaps as we sailed over the Channel. France was waking up and the highways were lined with pinpoint lights as we approached the Swiss Alps. The sun had crested and cast a pink glow over the snowcaps plunging the hillsides and valleys into bleak shadow. What a welcome!

The results of the California election was announced and a groan went up from the Americans. At least Arnold isn’t eligible to be president of the U.S. I wonder what our country can do next to embarrass itself?

Hitting The Streets

Our cab ride in from the airport in Rome was what we expected. We dodged scooters, zipped down narrow lanes, a multiplicity of McDonalds welcomed us, and our driver gave a running commentary of the sites in Italian. Oddly enough we understood most of it. Roman skies were gray but clearing and the newly washed city glowed. From our perch on a modern highway we could see ancient and new buildings greet us. Stately columns rose up next to construction sites and I couldn’t help but think they were accidentally found during excavation.

Friends we’re to meet here, Ron and Karen, came three days ahead of us. We hooked up with them after we took a nap. We allow ourselves two hours sleep after flying overseas. It helps get us on a schedule. They've been enjoying themselves. They hooked up with some young Australians who kept them hopping. Unfortunately their tour to Pompeii had to be cancelled because the Pope was visiting there that day. That was a terrible disappointment but if he dies while we’re here the entire country will shut down.

We hit the streets and got a feel for the city. One of our first stops was the primo McDonald’s in Rome. The entryway was constructed to resemble a Roman arched colonnade complete with frescos. The menu was the usual with the exception of a salad bar and gelato counter. We were inspired to get a bite and had a quick panini snack before a dinner of delicate pizza with the thinnest crust I’ve eaten. The Spanish Steps are close to our hotel and we took pictures of each other sitting in the crowds so we can do a “where’s Waldo” search when the film is developed.

The shops are each a study in the style and class symbolizing the new Italy. The talent and artistry that produced the great structures, paintings, and sculpture of the past has been translated into elegance of line and stunning use of color and whimsy of today’s merchandise and merchandising. The overall tenor is appealing, friendly, inviting, and chic. Italian respect for this place shows in the surprising cleanliness of the streets. I expected a Parisian devil-may-care attitude complete with dog droppings, but there’s little litter and lots of pride.

We took a nighttime bus tour of illuminated Rome and visited the typical venues. Somehow I thought the Trevi Fountain was round and I expected to be looking up at it. The buildings around it have encroached on its space and it was downhill from us as we approached. When we walked down the steps to ground level it snapped into perspective. It’s massive, vibrant, and yes, we threw coins in. Bernini’s creation in the Piazza Navona had an equal impact but with a touch of humor. The horse and lion sculpted at its base wove in and out of the design so that from some perspectives all we saw were their rear ends. We slowed down to gape at the Coliseum, Hadrian’s Tomb, and St. Peter’s Basilica as we kept to our tour schedule. Fortunately we return to this lovely city at the end of our trip so we can do it justice on foot. Our friends said their self-guided walking tour the night before was more spectacular.

I did my usual cat napping on the bus and managed to stay unconscious during an altercation between a passenger and the driver. As we crossed and re-crossed the all too familiar avenues the driver asked repeatedly for the names of the hotels where passengers were staying. We feared we would never return to ours.

When we finally were dropped off we needed gelati. Tired as we were, we staggered up the street and sated our tastes with our favorite flavors of Roman ice: café, chocolate, banana, strawberry, and Irish Cream.

Toby

Italy

Oct. 7, 2003- Here we go again

We’re off to Italy for three weeks and I decided to take the laptop and you along. Some of you on the address list are new to this so I’ll explain the drill. I’ll send you my journal as we travel whenever we come upon an Internet café or hotel that has a computer where I can upload my messages from floppy. As before I’ll be writing my own candid opinion, which will frequently be blunt if not to the point. In reviewing my journal from our around the world trip and in trying to edit it down from 2000 to 500 words for publication in the Focus newspaper in Akron, I’ll attempt to refrain from my usual verbosity. If the last sentence is any indication, it will be an insurmountable task. Feel free to read or delete the emails at will or forward them to anyone you think might be interested.

I managed to leave the Cleveland airport without shedding any tears. Some of you may recall I was inconsolable when we left for our nine month jaunt to Australia and beyond in 2001. Even though our daughter-in-law Vikki and our 13 ½ month old granddaughter Talia saw us off it was a different ball game. For one thing Talia didn’t exist in 2001. Her conception was only the topic of conjecture. This trip is only three weeks long. I know we’ll miss a lot in her development but will be able to catch up. I just hope she doesn’t forget us.

We hit our first glitch in Cleveland. When we checked in we found out that Delta had changed equipment. Since David and I were ticketed separately (mine was free, his was booked through our travel agent) and the new plane had a different seat configuration, the computer and the people doing the new seat assignments didn’t know we were traveling together. Consequently our seat assignments are rows apart and on opposite sides of the plane. It’s a full flight and the only exit seats available are non-reclining. I’m sitting on the floor near an outlet in the gate area so I can type this while David is straightening it all out.

Yeah! He was successful.

Making Progress

We had lunch at Friday’s in the Atlanta airport where they use plastic tableware. It’s in an area past the security checkpont so I guess they’re cautious. It’s a good thing we ordered sandwiches and not steak.

Toby

Ozzities

Australians claim to speak English. That’s disputable. They call themselves Aussies, but pronounce it “Ozzies” and frequently refer to Australia as “Oz.” Here are some “ozzities:”

white bait- deep-fried tiny fish the size of a guppy
paw paw- papaya
bums- rear ends e.g. a bum bag is a fanny pack
road train- semi-truck pulling 3-5 trailers
Australian Salute-waving hand to ward off flies
station-ranch
torch-flashlight
jumping the queue- taking cuts in line
tomato sauce- ketchup

abseiling (pronounced ab-sailing) involves workers who are on a scaffold that is suspended by ropes from the roof. They explained that it was also a rock climbing term. We call it rappelling.

country killed meat-slaughtered on the farm
10 Dhuri Place turned out to be a restaurant called Tandoori Palace- the accent strikes again
A round trip to L.A. would be phrased as “a return ticket to L.A.”
short soup is wonton & long soup has long noodles in it
rorting is to cheat
larrikin- loveable scoundrel & is aspired to by the Aussies of the male persuasion

hoon & a yabbu young men who like to drive fast & make a minor nuisance of themselves. They stay within the law

wanker - another word for hoon
gone crook- that’s being sick
fan bake ovens- convection
ute- pick-up truck

lagerphone is an outback musical instrument made from a stick to which has been loosely nailed as many beer caps as you can. Pounding the end of the stick on the ground jingles the bottle caps & produces the “music.”

that’s dear-expensive
hinterlands-after the city but before the bush and outback
whinging-whining
maths-mathematics

cobber- pal or mate- It was common with Australian troops stationed in Palestine during WWI & II. The Hebrew term for friend is “chaver.” The Aussies couldn’t pronounce the guttural “ch” sound, so it came out like a “k.”mispronunciation by non-Jews. The “v” in Hebrew is soft & easily confused with a “b” sound. There you have it. Chaver became cobber.

refuse tip- where garbage was dumped
overtaking-cars overtake each other on the roads; they don’t pass
Pom-pejorative for British meaning Prisoner of Her Majesty
stuff-up-screw-up
boob tubes- tube tops
traditional Australian dessert treat is called Pavlova- base is angel food cake Its sides are ladyfingers topped with meringue

potty-crazy
cossies - swimming costumes
over the moon-extemely happy
hotel-tavern or pub
spruiker (sprew’-ker) is someone who stands outside a business & promotes or hawks its wares.

slasher ahead- We were a little nervous that they would have warnings of demented murderers on their highways, but we soon saw that it only referred to a highway maintenance machine that cut tall grass at the side of the road.

piss up- a drunken party He’s so dumb that he couldn’t throw a piss up in a brewery.
collected- to pick up as at an airport
littlies-kiddies
expirary date-expiration date
rumble strips- edge lines that make noise when you drive on them.

road slump- Due to changing weather conditions, roads become undermined and start to lean one way or another.

autogas-propane tanks like we use for gas grills
tall dark- is a double espresso
sister- nurse goods
lift- a service elevator
In Australian banking lingo non-negotiable means “depositable” but not “cashable.”
bities in the water- jellyfish
unsealed roads-unpaved
McOz - burger (with beetroot)
chooks-chickens
cattle duffers-cattle theives
capsicum-green pepper
indicator- directional signal

billy tea and damper- That’s tea brewed over a campfire and bread baked in coals. Any resemblance to bread is purely a function of Australian imagination

Danger Smoking! No Naked Lights. What is a clothed light?
robot- in S. Africa-a traffic light
jumper- cardigan thirsty for a fizz (soda) or ice-cream spider (soda with ice-cream)?
spotted dick- pudding

burger with the lot- beef-mince (hamburger), fried egg, beetroot (beets to us), Canadian bacon, cheese, rocket (leaf lettuce), tomato, avocado, and onion.

globes or lamps (light bulbs) can be screw-in or bayonet. The latter pops into the socket and is secured by two protrusions on its base.

trucker’s brekkie- liver, black pudding, steak, bacon, sausage, chips, egg, fried tomato, and toast. What’s an amusement park without fairy floss (cotton candy)?
cucumbers- pickles
scheme- positive reference to a government plan, e.g. health care scheme.
serviettes - paper napkins
napkins- cloth serviettes
nappies- diapers

linens and bedding are Manchesters derived from the area of England where they were manufactured

bowser - a fuel pump at a gas station
poppers -juice boxes

jelly - Jell-O. It caused one child some stress when trying to assemble a peanut butter and “Jell-O” sandwich.

dobbers- tattle-tales- they don’t hesitate to dobb in someone they suspect of a crime

There really are towns called Barrumbuttock, Tittibong, and Blackbutt.
sandwich combos include: bacon, banana, & cheese or bacon, pineapple, & cheese.

A sign in a store said,” Does your credit card shout you up to 62 days?” To shout is to treat or pay for. The sign means there’s no interest on charges for 62 days.

lippie- lipstick
sunnies -sunglasses
swimmers -bathing suits
littlies -toddlers
lolly shop - a candy store
Here our adapters are usually grounded. In Oz they’re earthed.
Their Imodium helps with wind pain.

Instructions on our long-distance calling card made sense when we figured out their hash mark is our pound key.

When you check a hat or coat at a coatroom (cloakroom) it’s cloaked.
Intermission at the theater is an interval.
Hot dogs are bangers and are usually served with mash (mashed potatoes).
It may sound better, but the knackers is still a slaughterhouse.

Letters From Australia

Dear Toby and David,

During your seven month stay, you've made a lot of friends in Australia, and we are among them. So, I want to start with the personal before discussing the probable effect of your stay on the future of Judaism along the Pacific Rim.

Had we written a list of expectations, dancing would not have been among them. Then, when we saw you two dancing, not the "hora" or "shaftem mayim b'sasson", but dances of the present time, we knew we were swinging into a new style of Judaism, not formal or reverential, but something in the style of what you see is what you've got. And we cheered you on.

People come through as people and are liked because of their weaknesses. You never hid that your weakness, David, is food. I shall long remember your comment about the culinary potential of the Gold Coast: "So many restaurants, so little time". Your other weakness is, of course, perfectionism. We cursed more than once because you always started on time. It seemed insensitive, egocentric, and darned right inconsiderate. But, this terrible disadvantage had its other side - the highest professional standards by someone absolutely committed to his work. We liked that side of it.

The public part of your marriage, too, seemed very modern. Because of an absolute equality, Toby never hesitated to take you on in a discussion of Jewish philosophy, your own area of expertise. We had the impression that your married life is, from this perspective, an on-going dialogue of two very independent personalities. At no point does one have to yield to the other. That also pleased us.

On the personal level, you've always been available and you have always accepted invitations. You listened patiently to our questions, questions often not aimed at your knowledge, but intended to show how much we know. People bent your ear mercilessly. Your patience and our ability to exploit it seemed endless. For this we apologize. Perhaps the most surprising thing, again on the personal level, was your ability to reach out to everyone. Not long ago in a conversation with a friend, my friend said to me: "For the first time we had someone whose ideas about Judaism are the same as ours". I was amazed because I know my friend's ideas about Judaism are quite different from mine.

You, David, had somehow reached both of us. You managed to span a range of people from the nostalgic-for- orthodoxy to those who consider themselves only-traditional Jews. Quite something.

You notice, I've yet to mention the word Rabbi, but I will now. When we first spoke about this Rabbi who was ready to take us on for 7 months (from Rosh Hashana till after Pesach, so we could get the maximum of mileage out of him) I said, "Let's not expect too much from him, after all we're giving him so little". So, when you swung into the job as though it were a life-time appointment, we were stunned. It seemed too good to be true. But it was true.

You took on the services and gave us the serious sermons we longed for. You bat-mitzvahed and buried, re-married and responded, taught cheder, taught adults, taught converts, and you gave us two moving conversion celebrations. Above all, you demonstrated that there is work for a Rabbi at the Gold Coast Liberal shul.

I won't say more because we don't want to send you back to America with a swelled head. I just want to answer the question I posed at the beginning of this letter: what was the probable effect of your stay on the future of Judaism along the Pacific Rim? I checked it out with the Jewish communities of New Zealand, The Solomon Islands, Papua-New Guinea, Manila, Osaka, and Tokyo. They all said: not at all. This was in sharp contrast to the response I received from the Jews on the Gold Coast who said, "enormous", "unbelievable", "an impossible act to follow".
With love from your Aussie Mates,

Subj: your diary Date: Wed, 1 May 2002 8:24:41 PM Eastern Daylight Time
Sent from the Internet (Details)

Dear Toby and David,

I've been meaning to write, having undertaken to react to Toby's diary which we have both been enjoying enormously. But I got distracted, by the news from Israel and a dozen other things..... Anyway, I've now cleared the decks and the next half-hour or so is yours.

About your diary: I think it has the makings of a book. In the first place it's well-written and, even more important it makes interesting reading, not only to your friends but also, I think, to the general reader. You diary is much more than a listing of events, a personal guide book. It is an imaginative recounting of your adventures and misadventures refracted through a sensitive and intelligent mind. And more than that, there's quite a lot of humour.

If it were to make a book it would need a small amount of editing and perhaps some additional responses to add content, perhaps something of the discussions you must have had with David on the way. From this point of view I think the best is yet to come.

You are prepared to find a different America when you return and, perhaps, even a different Toby. If you can devote time to getting these impressions down, as fresh and direct as your present stuff, I think we'll have a treasure.

I'll stop lest you get swelled-headed, and go back to my discussion of what has been going on along the Pacific Rim since you left. Rising anti-semitism and a growing solidarity among the Jews of the Gold Coast. We'll be off to a demonstration in support of Israel in Brisbane in about 10 days. What seems to be happening in Europe, and to some extent here, is that the anti-semites have jumped on the wave of criticism of Israel for its treatment of the Palestinians, and this has led to attacks on Jews, Jewish property, and synagogues. So far things have been relatively mild in Australia, but the feeling is that worse is to come.

Perhaps some of the Jewish response is reflected in the fact that Temple attendance hasn't fallen off since you left. My own feelings are that we are heading for trouble. The negotiations with the Rabbi from Melbourne have ceased. The word is that she asked for too much money. Nobody talks of searching for a rabbi although I don't know of everything that is going on. We are back to 4 people, old and in poor health, running the services. My guess is that statistically, two of them won't be active within three years and the other two won't be able to carry on... The hospitality side, always important and even more so with an aging community, is in crisis because the people who have been running it so well ... This means, in effect, the return of the old guard One of the positive signs is that the converts are becoming active in the services. We all acted to integrate them and I think it worked. The old sarcastic remarks have been dropped and they are given honours that they carry out with aplomb...The truth is, I think they are only ones who truly believe in God.

In an email June 5, 2002

You seem to have discovered the central irony of travel: you don't really learn much about the places you visit. What you actually learn about is the place or places you're coming from. Your journey overseas has sent you back with a new vision of where you were. You may be in the same house but it is a different one because you've changed.

In a way every country is a critique of every other one, just as each person's life is a critique of the lives of others. Otherwise we'd be dull and uninteresting. This is one of the reasons we enjoyed talking to you so much.

The quality of your writing remains high. It is full of humour and irony: of "trying to find relaxation and peace in retirement" (you can't), of David having "to learn to pray during services", of how your "cup runneth over with free refills of pop", of the American deer that apparantly have "less street smarts" than the kangaroos.

Settling In

May 31, 2002 - Whinging

O.K. So it wasn’t “the end.” I haven’t made notes for myself as I had when we were traveling, but I’ll try to convey more thoughts and feelings about re-entry. It hasn’t gone smoothly. We’ve had the rockiest landing of all our travels. I’ve been complaining to all my friends and trying to verbalize my feelings and reactions in order to better understand what’s happening. My broker at Realty Executives, calls me the greatest rationalizer he ever knew. I’m trying not to make a liar out of him now. I’m having a hard time adjusting to the difference between the memory of Akron and the reality as I see it now. I was living in the Sunshine State of Australia for seven months where buildings that are over twenty years old are torn down and replaced with glitzy high-rises. I lived sparsely in a new apartment with no clutter to organize and no possessions to keep track of. Even the bathrooms of most of the hotels we stayed in were better appointed than the fifty year old one in our Akron house. Not only does this place seem overwhelmingly cavernous, but the entire town looks old and a bit tired to me. It just seems like a sad, shabby little town. There’s no ocean, no mountains, and no surreal blue sky above. How superficial I’ve become!

I had a melt down because the books on the shelves weren’t arranged in a manner to my liking. Of course, they were exactly as I’d left them nine months ago. Before we left we hauled clothing, knick-knacks, and assorted accumulated debris to Goodwill because we were in the mood to toss and pare down. We obviously didn’t do enough. I have things on my shelves I don’t even remember owning. I didn’t buy them and I don’t know who gave them to us as gifts. How petty I am!

Even though the house is in dire need of major attention, we nixed the idea of hiring a professional cleaning service after we got an estimate. David is quickly mastering the art of vacuuming and ferreting out grime with a toothpick. We’re trying to tackle one room a day and survived spending an entire day cleaning a bathroom together. But reality has checked my “whinging” in the cruelest way and other priorities have intervened. How self-indulgent I’ve been!

The news here runs from murder to nuclear threat to stories of lies and political betrayal. I have to keep reminding myself that the U.S. has ten times the population of Australia and is likely to have that many more tales of terror and trepidation. How distant it all seems!

Hope

America is trying hard to seduce me back into the fold. The country lanes glimpsed from the highway are newly fuzzy green and in the infancy of spring color. We drove fourteen hours to Minneapolis to visit Wendy and her partner and were able to watch the season unfold in reverse. We stopped to see our cousins in Chicago and got to experience tulips in full bloom. By the time we went farther north to the farmland of Wisconsin and Minnesota the countryside was just beginning to awaken from the grays and browns of winter and lilacs festooned the neighborhoods.

I counted dead deer on the side of the road instead of kangaroo. There are either more deer here or they have less street smarts. My eye is once again learning to appreciate the elegant lines of a 200 year old building, the solidity provided by a stand of trees lining a street, and the dabs of reds, blues, and yellows that announce a farmhouse in the lonely isolation of what is our vast hinterland. How blind I’ve been!

We broke our first law. As we were entering the toll road in Chicago on our way to Minnesota, we realized we needed exact change. The booths were all automatic and there was no attendant in sight. I was going to run it, but the sign indicated there were cameras that would take a picture of violators so the highway patrol could generate and mail the appropriate ticket. I was already halfway down the ramp that approached the booth. Not wanting to break one law, I backed the car up the down ramp and broke another. We went to the nearest building and found someone with change for a dollar bill. She only had $0.95 but David assured her it would serve to get us on our way. On our return trip we encountered a similar set-up after a lunch stop. That time we were a few cents short. David threw a fistful of coins into the basket and barreled ahead. How Bonnie and Clyde!

We’re trying to find relaxation and peace in retirement. David learned there were three funerals at Temple over the Memorial Day weekend. He was relieved he could leave town to visit Wendy without a backward glance. He has gone to services and finds he enjoys sitting with the congregation and may even learn to pray during services. And I’m more spontaneous when out and about. I no longer have a sense of being other, not fitting in, and being misunderstood. I don’t have to mentally translate what I’m saying so that I can eliminate Americanese and substitute the appropriate Australian lingo. How comfy!

We’ve started noticing small anomalies that typify our society. There is now a Federal Express drop box outside our local U.S. Post Office. It shines like a beacon to the competitive spirit it typifies. I find myself marveling at the small wonders of life in the States. I could actually follow closely behind a semi-trailer truck and not choke on the fumes. Ain't pollution control dandy? We stare with wonder at the enormous portions of food set before us in restaurants. I haven’t been able to finish any one meal to date. My cup runneth over with free re-fills of pop (that’s soda in Mid-west-speak). How spoiled!

Minneapolis

Our visit with Wendy and her partner was eventful in a good way. Their dog, Willie, introduced us to a doggie park. A huge forested tract of several acres is designated as an off leash area where dogs run free. It’s crisscrossed by trails and fenced on three sides with the fourth being bordered by the Mississippi River and a beach. Dogs romp, form their own playgroups, and create their own games. Humans stay out of the way and enjoy the fray. We gawked at the work in progress that is the house. Wendy's partner is a carpenter by trade and has taken on the project of de-constructing and re-constructing every room. Her work and energy are phenomenal. The kitchen is gourmet caliber, which is appropriate since she's a spontaneous and excellent cook. The dining room is elegant, and their bedroom is a wonder of style, simplicity, ingenuity and perseverance. There’s still the bathroom, another bedroom/office, living room, windows, deck, and porch to tackle, but with Julie’s talent it will be stunning when finished. Wendy's partner is a gentle soul who was courageous enough to offer me a ride on the back of her motorcycle. After I waffled about my lack of balance she won me over with her enthusiasm and confident coaxing. It was a hoot. They are very different people. One cautious and one spontaneous. They have a lot to learn from each other and a lot to share. How exciting!

While in Minneapolis they took us to see a show based on political satire. It dealt with life in America after Sept. 11. The show made it evident that there’s an information gap and an experiential void between what most Americans went through and what we missed. We didn’t have the opportunity to process the events with our friends nor did we have a chance to go through healing. There were times when we didn’t “get” the humor because we had no knowledge of what was true and what was contrived just for the show. How confusing!

Miracles

We revel in the diversity of our neighbors. African-Americans envelop us on one side, Lebanese Christians and Italian Roman Catholics to our rear, and a genuine WASP (White Anglo Saxon Protestant) on our other side. We chuckle as we recite names of towns as strange as those in Australia: Shipshewana, Mishawaka, Kankakee. David has had his fix of Krispie-Kreme donuts courtesy of Daniel, Vikki, and Alex. Vikki brought “real” hot dogs to a cookout, so David’s entire food group needs have been satisfied. How decadent!

We’re slowly re-connecting with friends and family and there-in lies the answer. Our new friends from Australia, Syd and Janet and their children Daniel and Rebekkah will be visiting us in August. For going onto twenty years we’ve shared our lives, our histories, and our hearts with the people in Akron. But now our hearts are breaking. A dear friend is in a losing battle with cancer. He has fought valiantly for two years but cannot win. He has not succumbed but is comatose. The family has gathered and we are with them as much as possible. He has always been my invisible traveling companion. He’s a brilliant man with an enormous grasp of history and the scope of human experience. I think of him often as we tour from museums to ruins and know that whatever I am experiencing Bob would have gotten more. He’s a modern day Renaissance man. His spirit will forever mark our adventures. How ironic! How unfair!

We are home for the duration. There are no motels, hotels, or flights in our future. All maps have been put away, and even our travel agent is moving on to a new career in insurance. Our dentist has retired and one of my doctors has given up private practice to work for a hospital. Change is all around us and the big change for us is that we will try to limit the change in our lives for a while. But then there’s the very evident fact of inevitable change in our midst. Our new grandchild is growing and will soon be bursting to join us. How miraculous!

Toby

Epilogue-1

May 14, 2002-Tying Loose Ends

We managed to sleep two hours the first night home. I was up at 1 AM and started cleaning and doing laundry. David attacked the mail. After all, our body clocks said that it was 7 AM. By afternoon, we were walking zombies. We allowed ourselves a two-hour nap. Our tally to that point was four hours sleep in forty-eight hours. We managed to sleep through the next night and were functional enough to tackle more chores today.

There are as many details to deal with in coming home as in going. The first order of business was convincing the phone company that we weren’t deadbeats. They’d discontinued our home phone service for non-payment of the bill since January. It was due to a glitch in their billing system and David was able to convince them we’re good for it. They had us up and ringing in a matter of hours. We also ordered a phone line activation for our computer modem. That was promised in two days time. Contrast that with the young Kenyan couple we met whose father has been waiting for a landline at his home for ten years.

Although it didn’t take us the 2 ½ hours for grocery shopping here that it took for our first trip to the supermarket in Australia, we did buy out the store. David got a bit rattled when he walked up to the deli counter and wanted to ask for 250 grams of sliced turkey. He quickly did a conversion to pounds and made himself understood.

David had removed the car battery when we left and even that worked out. The darn thing really started. I’ve truly enjoyed driving my own car again and am happy tooling around familiar streets even if it’s on an unfamiliar side of the road. Today David had a close encounter in the wrong lane with a Fed Ex truck.

Four of the nine parcels we shipped have arrived and we’ve not begun to unpack them. There are more important priorities right now. We made it through the maze of mobile phone “deals” and now are once more members of the world of modern wireless technology.

We had no stairs to climb for nine months and my legs responded to the several flights I had to tackle at home. I can’t count the number of times I was up and down just to do laundry and put things away. I was back on the treadmill this morning and my muscles have been awakened from their own long vacation. They’re not as happy to be home as I am and have begun their own protest.

We will go to Minneapolis to visit Wendy and meet her partner in a week. We’ll see the house where they’re living and meet all our new animals-in-law. They've been working like mad trying to finish some construction and remodeling on the house and I’m excited to see the results. I’ll also be interested to see all the “real” tools were brought to the relationship including the newly prized table saw and air compressor. Wendy's partner is a carpenter by trade and has taught Wendy a lot. It does give me pause to picture Wendy wielding power tools. Wendy is anxious for her partner to meet me so she’ll better understand Wendy’s need for order. As I have said in previous emails, some call it obsessive-compulsive behavior. We call it feng shui. Wendy’s voice is full of energy and excitement and love whenever we talk to her.

I found our house a bit drearier than I remembered it and am weighing options of re-decorating or removing ourselves to newer digs. We got used to living in a one-year old fresh and bright place that was easy to care for. This house seems cavernous. We can’t import the sunshine of the Gold Coast to Akron, but maybe we can brighten the décor.

Impressions

We’re home at last. We’ve returned to things familiar, the land of our birth, our nation. At times it feels as if we never left. But there are differences. On our first outing we noticed a proliferation of American flags flying from houses, decaled on cars, and glued to windows in stores. There are lawn signs that read, “I am proud to be an American.” Patriotism is alive and well in the U.S. of A. Our country has its pimples but the systems work most of the time. It’s a place where opportunities are endless and dreams still come true. We’re mostly a compassionate people and when we’re not, we quickly become ashamed of ourselves and try to make amends. We strive to make things better and when we fail or make them worse, we rationalize, cover up, protest our innocence then dig in and try again. We’re hated and reviled throughout the world by people and nations who verbally assault us and who would like to physically bury us. We are the laughing stock of the world and a model for the universe. We are the place where most third world people would give their lives to live. Some have done so.

We’re home at last. People will ask us to tell them what was our favorite place or what was the best experience we had. David and I seem to agree that Viet Nam was the most emotionally engaging and India was the most culturally intriguing. Australia offered an endless variety of beauty and uniqueness from Ayres Rock to the Great Barrier Reef to the Great Ocean Road and that little gem, Tasmania. It will take time to settle in here and to create a place for ourselves once again. The lives of the people we know went on without us for almost a year. We need to re-connect and re-integrate ourselves into their lives. We need to have them find a place for us in their lives. Our family is expanding and we anxiously await our introductions to Julie and to the new baby. This is the end. This is the beginning.

Toby

Flights and Nights

Flights We've Taken

1- Minneapolis
2- Tokyo
3- Hong Kong
4- Bangkok
5- Chiang Mai
6- Bangkok
7- Hanoi
8- Hue
9- Saigon
10- Bangkok
11- Siam Reap
12- Bangkok
13- Sydney
14- Coolangatta
15- Cairns
16- Ulhuru
17- Sidney
18- Coolangatta
19- Adelaide
20- Brisbane
21- Melbourne
22- Hobart
23- Melbourne
24- Brisbane
25- Auckland
26- Brisbane
27- Perth
28- Brisbane
29- Hong Kong
30- Delhi
31- Varanasi
32- Lucknow
33- Delhi
34- Bombay
35- Nairobi
38- Johannesburg
39- Cape Town
40- Johannesburg
41- Amsterdam
42- Detroit
43- Cleveland

Beds We Have Slept In

1-Minneapolis
2-Tokyo
3-Kyoto
4-Chaing Mai
5-Hanoi
6-Hue
7-China Beach
8-Saigon (Ho Chi Mihn City)
9-Siem Reap
10-Sydney
11-Broadbeach ( our apartment)
12-Cairns
13-Ayres Rock
14-Alice Springs
15-Adelaide
16-Hansdorf
17-Adelaide
18-Melbourne
19-OceanRoad
20-Montville
21-Ballarat
22-Melbourne
23-Hobart
24-Stanley
25-Strahan
26-Hobart
27-Pahia
28-Auckland
29-Rotorua
30-Wellington
31-Christchurch (hotel #1)
32-Queenstown
33-Dunedin
34-Christchurch (hotel #2)
35-Perth
36-Fremantle
37-Cervantes
38-Geraldton
39-Perth
40-Coffs Harbour
41-Blue Mountains
42-Coomera
43-Canberra
44-Sydney
45-Delhi (1st time)
46-Agra
47-Sariska
48-Jaipur
49-Delhi (2nd time)
50-Varanasi
51-Mumbai (Bombay)
52-The Ark (Aberdare National Park)
53-Samburu Serena Lodge
54-Nairobi Serena Hotel
55-Amboseli Serena Lodge
56-Sarova Lion Hill Lodge
57-Sarova Maasi Tent Camp
58-Holiday Inn Waterfront- Cape Town (1st stay)
59-Westcliff House B & B- Hermanus
60-The Dunes Lodge- Wilderness
61-De Opstal- Oudtshoorn
62-Holiday Inn Waterfront-Cape Town (2nd stay)
63-Park Hotel-Amsterdam

Homecoming!

May 13, 2002-A Day At Schipol

Our day started at Schipol Airport in Amsterdam where we were pulled out of line for special handling since we were traveling to the U.S. We were directed in an around-about way to our new queue. In their effort for special check-ins to the U.S., they enabled us to miss one entire security check of our luggage. Not to worry, there were plenty more. Security in general seemed a bit more relaxed than other places we’d been. I don’t think that the Dutch have enemies. They were the only place where we saw lockers still in use.

Since we were at the airport so early, I had time to read the newspaper. I mentioned a political candidate in The Netherlands, Pim Fortuyn, who’d been murdered. I read more about him today and learned he was killed by a left-winger. Fortuyn’s soft views on the environment and his strong stand to limit immigration to The Netherlands were the reasons for the incident. The fact that he was an openly gay candidate was a total non-issue. How about that? It’s a country where gays are bashed and killed for reasons other than being gay. Now that’s equality! Equal rights for gays, etc. have been a part of law there since 1811. How far behind the times does that put us?

We also had time to do our email. There was a nice complex with state of the art technology, but they didn’t have computers where we could copy from a floppy. They did, however, have plugs and phone jacks where we could use our laptop and their ISP to do our thing. It was really very convenient and efficient. The last time we were in Amsterdam was in 1974. I remember not having any extra time at check-in and wanting to buy Vandermint liqueur at the Duty Free Shop. We made a mad dash to buy it and just got to the plane in time to find out that our entire group of fifteen had been bumped. We still have that bottle of Vandermint and realize it would have been cheaper to buy it at home.

The Amsterdam flight had mechanical trouble and we were sitting in the plane on the ground for 1-½ hours while they fixed it. There was a problem with the fire extinguishing system. It was my opinion that we should take off on time and just not create a situation where we’d need to use the system. The pilot must have disagreed. He said he could make up ½ hour in the air and that really cut it close for our Detroit-Cleveland connection. We ended up with only fifty minutes to go through immigration, customs, security, and recheck our luggage.

Once we got off the ground, the flight from Amsterdam itself was smooth as silk. It was a new plane, a MD-11. It had better legroom and aisle space than we were used to. The seats also seemed to have a more comfortable shape that fit our bodies well. Flying cattle class for 8-9 hours is never fun, but this was better than most. I also find I do better on a long haul when I fly during daylight hours. There were a few nice little extras like free liqueurs and ice-cream snacks. One curiosity was that it was the only flight where the knife we were given with dinner was plastic. The other utensils were stainless steel. They must still be ultra sensitive on flights to the U.S. The plane wasn’t very full and it was amusing to see how people jockeyed for the seat-switch after take-off. I lucked out and got an end seat in a four-seat row with only two people in it. That gave David an empty middle seat in a three-seat row. It really made it so much more comfortable for our fifth airline formatted video viewing of Ocean’s Eleven.

Re-Entry

After the smoothest landing of all our flights, we braced ourselves for our first the sight of armed soldiers in a U.S. airport. It was a disquieting image that we had. We’d gotten used to automatic weapons being toted through airports around the world but never at home. There was not one when we arrived. We later found out they’d been recalled that day.

Evidently we landed with time to spare. We had time enough for each of us to be separately singled out and thoroughly searched. David was sidelined after customs and had to take his shoes off. He was carrying our roll-aboard case with all our meds and cosmetics. They opened everything and were the only ones in forty-three security checks to find a sewing kit I’d never used. It had a pair of scissors that they actually allowed. The tips were dull and the blades were very short. After we threw our stuff back into the case and David regained control of his shoes, we were off to the races and the gate. Low and behold, I was pulled aside at the entrance to the walkway to the plane. This time I was schlepping the roll-aboard. They frisked me, ran a metal detector over me, had me remove my shoes, checked the bottom of my feet with the metal detector, and searched the case. I also had the computer. I had to open it up to show them the screen. I don’t know what they could tell from that, but one of the guards got real chatty about the computer since she’d just bought one. I didn’t care since I was in the home stretch and could see the door to the plane. They also passed on the scissors.

U.S. of A

This was the first flight in nine months where we didn’t have to fill out immigration forms. Tears welled up when I heard the announcement. We were returning citizens. That had such a nice ring to it. When we filled out the customs declaration form, we didn’t have enough room to list all the countries we’d been to. I felt so fortunate. I got teary again. As we approached Detroit, we came through a mass of thick, dark clouds. We gradually lost altitude and I knew that the next glimpse of ground would be the United States. The words of the song My Country ‘Tis of Thee began to play in my head as I wept. Do you see a pattern developing here? It would have been too corny to kiss the ground when we deplaned, but I did feel like hugging the immigration official when I thanked him for stamping our passports. We were officially home! We’d been duly counted, recorded, and admitted back into the best place in the world to live. I can pretty well say that with some authority now.

It took all of twenty-two minutes flying time to get to Cleveland. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I saw Daniel, a very pregnant Vikki, and Alex waiting for us. I didn’t know whom to hug first so I called out, “Group Hug!” and we formed a tidy huddle of arms, legs, kisses, and embraces. It felt so good to see them in the flesh. They were energizing. I wasn’t tired any more. I was still flying high, but this time I was high on adrenaline. Alex grew about three inches and is looking like a real pre-teen. Her silky blond hair is long now and plays a big part in her transformation. She looks like a colt adjusting to its ever-changing body and is becoming accustomed to it with grace and confidence. Vikki is gorgeous. I think she wears pregnancy with a regal air. She’s tall and filled out in all the right places. She radiates optimistic hope for new life and the secret of creation. Daniel looks like the stereotypical proud and expectant papa. He seemed happy to bask in the excitement of his family and the reunion.

A Tally

Coming home was everything I expected and more. For David it was an end of a dream of a lifetime. For me there was a lot of relief we actually made it. We hadn’t gotten terribly sick. David had pretty much recovered from a bit of Delhi-belly and it seems that the water in S. Africa is not all that wonderful. We both had problems after we left. We didn’t have to use the syringes or the suture kits we were carrying. I didn’t lose or tear a contact lens. David’s glasses didn’t break. We didn’t lose our passports and we weren’t robbed or mugged. We didn’t happen to be in areas where there were riots or terrorist attacks. The weather was mostly good in our travels and when it wasn’t, at least it didn’t stop us. Although we dropped the computer twice and got viruses on the floppy a few times, the computer is still alive and healthy. We never lost any luggage or missed a flight. Except for our flight from Amsterdam to Detroit, we never had a flight that was delayed so that we were in danger of missing a connection. None of our planes crashed. Our flights were smooth and we managed to avoid flying in bad weather. When you consider that we had a total of forty-three flights in nine months that’s pretty amazing. We slept in sixty-three beds along the way and drove nine different automobiles. We were in ten countries by last count and on all but two continents. (See next blog for details)

Toby

What They Do Best

May 11, 2002-Water
(photos:Keukenhof,
Den Haag)

Those granola bars finally were useful. At least one of them was. Breakfast at the hotel was a mediocre buffet and I knew I couldn’t eat $17.50 worth of it. I opted for tea and then ate an apple and a granola bar in the room. We got out and really walked today. It felt so good after we’d been sitting on most of our other tours. We bought a tour to the Kuekenhof. It literally means “kitchen garden.” It’s now a park 45 minutes from the city and in the center of the tulip growing industry. It’s open two months a year and is the showcase where tulip growers display their latest and best offerings. It’s an outdoor house and garden show without the houses.

Our guide on the bus spoke at least six languages easily. That’s the norm in a country where most all the people speak at least Dutch, English, and German with many having a working relationship with French. We’ve even heard kitchen help speaking English to each other instead of Dutch. The bus had more legroom than the airplane and even had adjustable footrests. It’s no wonder I fell asleep on the ride back and got so comfy that David said I snored (gently). I only had a moment of pause as we made what I thought was a very wide left turn, but David said he was getting used to traffic merging onto the expressway from the right. He thought we’d become “ambi-driverous.”

As we passed Schipol Airport, the guide started to explain that it was built on a lakebed that had been drained and is twelve feet below sea level. There’s a lot of that going on. Canals are dug around a lake or other wet area, a dyke is built, and water is drained into the canals. The lake bottom is filled with a sand mixture to add stability and buildings are constructed. About 45% of The Netherlands is below sea level. I’d imagine the Dutch were the first master basement water proofers. Tulips Tulips came to Holland from Persia (Iran) with the Crusaders. At one time bulbs were so valuable they were used for investment and speculation much as gold is today. People would actually mortgage their homes and put the money in tulip bulbs.

I was happy to see the streets looked better cared for when we left the central city, but this is one flat and bleak country. At first I thought there were boats in the fields but then I realized that the boats were sitting in the many canals that cut through the farmland. In more urbanized suburbs there were what looked like areas set aside for kitchen gardens with their own potting sheds dotting the landscape. We passed several fields of dead daffodils and many barren areas. There are 6.5 million bulbs planted each year in the sandy soil, but the fields were mostly shorn of their flowers since the value for exporting is only in the bulbs. Flowers are cut a few days after they bloom so they don’t take nutrition away from the all-important bulbs. Each day a disease searcher walks the fields and pulls any plant showing signs of ill health. We had two hours to walk around Keukenhof in the overcast chill and I knew I’d have been out of there in forty-five minutes if we were on our own. But it was spectacular. The first thing that hit me was the smell. The flowers emitted a delightful scent that mixed with the aroma of freshly cut grass. We trooped from one display to another taking pictures of each grouping and color variation until we realized we couldn’t capture it all. In fact, after awhile, the impact began to wear off and we just followed the path and silently acknowledged the endless beauty spread before us. We did learn a new trick of scenic photography. Place a schill in front of what you want a photo of and have them move the instant before you snap it. David figured this out at one particular spot where people kept standing in front of what I wanted a photo of. Everyone waited until the posers picture had been taken and then took their turn. David walked to the spot I wanted to shoot, waited for me to give him the go ahead, and stepped away as I clicked. It worked like a charm. If he hadn’t thought of that ruse I’d still be waiting there.

Several lakes and ponds broke up the lawns, trees, and planted gardens. In one lake, we watched as a black swan invaded a group of white swans. It herded the others into a circle, singled one out, and chased it around before retreating to its former location. We couldn’t figure out what that was all about, but when the black swan left, the white one was vigorously wiggling its tail. There were two hot houses where orchids and other plants were for sale and many places to stop for snacks. We inhaled the warmth of a cup of hot cocoa right before we left.

Den Haag

Our afternoon was taken up with making our way to The Hague. We caught a train at Central Station and were in that capital city in forty-five minutes. We’d once again found “schmutz.” Judging from the dingy color and dirt on the official buildings, I think that a sandblasting company could make a fortune there. We managed to find the Parliament complex and the city palace among the crowds of shoppers. Den Haag, as they call it, is a very old city with tiny winding streets and elaborately decorative architecture. One side of the parliament is on a canal, but the palace is squeezed into a residential and business neighborhood almost as an afterthought. I guess it was always like that since it’s the city palace. There’s a private and more secluded palace in the country.

The Netherlands is known for its diversity of cultures and races and is sometimes called the gay capital of the world. It’s no wonder that it also attracts right wing groups that take issue with such an open society. In one of the squares there was a memorial to Pim Fortuyi (sp), the murdered and now martyred right wing politician. A few yards away there was what I call a Jesus rally. There was singing and evangelizing in English and Dutch. People were witnessing and really exhibiting quite a bit of religious fervor. One of the mantras that kept being repeated, chanted, and droned was, “There is no other God but you Jesus.” I was a bit confused, but not confused enough to stay awake on the train ride back to Amsterdam. David said I didn’t snore. I only twitched.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s been over nine months, but at other times it seems like forever since we left Wendy in Minneapolis on August 8, 2001. I’ve limited myself to miniature bursts of excitement when I think of tomorrow. It will be a very long tomorrow, May 12. We leave here at 2:30 PM and get into Akron at 8 PM. Taking into consideration the time difference, it will be 2 AM, May 13th on our body clocks.

Happy Mother’s Day to whom it applies. It’s bittersweet for me to say this, but I’ll write the final email installment from home. Thank you all who have kept up with your reading and for those who have been such loyal correspondents. It has made this undertaking a pleasure.

Toby

Back To Basics

May 10, 2002-Amsterdam
(photo:Amsterdam)

We drank tap water for the first time in a month today. It felt really good to be able to wash my toothbrush and slosh without having to pour from a bottle of mineral water. I don’t remember my impression of Amsterdam in 1974, but today it’s a dirty city with stunning architecture and scenery. The canals and the streets are littered and trash containers are overflowing. There are pressing crowds everywhere and our hotel is fully booked. It’s nearing the end of the tulip festival and they’re having a flower show that happens only once every ten years. We’re skipping that and will go to the traditional tulip fields tomorrow. It’s certainly spring here and the trees and grass are that refreshingly new green.

Aside from continuing sticker shock (a Pepsi here is $2.50 and in South Africa it was $0.40), we’re contending with pedestrian, vehicular, and bicycle traffic coming at us from entirely the wrong direction. It was one thing for David to get bumped by a bicycle in Agra, but he came close to an encounter with a tram that would have left him with more than a ripped pocket. Bicycles can swerve. Trams are fixed on tracks and it’s the people who have to do the maneuvering. This is a city that has mastered the art of fitting everything into a small space. It’s amazing where entrances to buildings pop up. I wonder if there’s really habitable space on the other side of those miniscule doors. The scrunching of buildings and living space is more amazing given the size of the people. We’re not short and found ourselves straining to see over people standing in front of us at the Rijksmuseum. There were also a lot of French tourists in the museum. There were so many I thought there might be an exchange program going on and that there might be a lot of Dutch at the Louvre. I remember touring the Rijksmuseum in’74, but David has no such recollection. I even remember careening around corners towards closing time and following arrows in an attempt to find Rembrandt’s famous Night Watch. We managed to see that and a lot more today and had time to use an audio guide. What I did notice was an absence of security. There were few guards in the galleries and no alarms or barriers to keep the spectators even at arms distance from the art. It wasn’t unusual for someone to point out a detail on a painting while almost touching the canvas.

We napped again after the museum and went in search of a late night dinner. Daylight Savings Time is so nice. We didn’t have it on the Gold Coast and missed it. It was lovely to stroll around the canals and old buildings at 8 PM in daylight. We started out looking for Thai food. We miss our Wednesday night Thai dinners with the Bruces. We ended up with Greek food instead. It wasn’t even average, but we did get to talk to a young couple who had just arrived in Amsterdam from Akron. They were incredulous when we broke into their conversation after hearing them mention N.E. Ohio and Cleveland. We left the restaurant feeling unsatisfied and needed a sure thing for dessert. We peered into MacDonald’s and I decided to use their rest room since it was convenient. They had a woman sitting outside the toilets collecting 50 cents each to go in. It didn’t matter if you were a customer or not. I think it was to keep riff-raff out. She didn’t so much as lift a finger to hand out towels. She was just a toll collector. We eliminated Febo’s, an automated cafeteria-style place where food is displayed behind glass doors. You put a coin in to open the cubby and get the food. We ended up at Ben and Jerrys Ice Cream. It filled the bill. They also have Haagen-Das. I wonder if the Dutch think it’s indigenous.

I cannot tell you how upsetting it is to see Amsterdam in such a sorry state. It’s as if there was a garbage collectors strike. Besides the trash bins overflowing, dog owners aren’t careful about what they leave behind, and one of the many drunks we saw threw up on the sidewalk in front of us. I think they need former New York Mayor Guilliani to shape up this city.

Toby

Westward Ho!

May 9, 2002-Complaint Department

We had a lovely evening with relatives of some Akron folks. He filled David in on the situation in South Africa as he sees it while his wife and I talked about grand kids. He said that the fear about crime here is real. Even in good neighborhoods he would only walk with groups of 5-6 people but never just the two of them. There are 80,000 Jews in South Africa with most living in Johannesburg. Growing fundamentalist orthodoxy is fragmenting the community and the ultra-right wing orthodox don’t recognize the middle of the road orthodox. Young people are emigrating for economic reasons with most of them leaving the Johannesburg area. It doesn’t sound good. Many of you replied to my inquiry about a rise in anti-Semitism at home. Thank you for that. The news from the San Francisco and Bay area sounded worst of all. I’m so fed up with Jews not being supportive of other Jews. How can we expect outsiders to care?

Our morning started well enough, but began to go downhill. This is my litany of frustrations. We went to the waterfront for breakfast and to do email. We picked up a virus on our floppy at the Holiday Inn the last time we used their facilities so decided to try an Internet Café. We got on line only to realize they didn’t have a disk drive. They only had CD ROM. We read our mail but couldn’t send.

We then went to the South African Jewish Museum and got as far as the synagogue that was built in 1862. There was a charge to go further and we didn’t have enough Rand left to pay that and fill up the rental car before we returned it. Remember, they don’t take credit cards at gas stations here. When we did get to the gas station David was watching the Rands add up at the gas pump and gave a sigh of relief when it clicked off at a price we could pay. We went on to the airport.

Our luggage is lighter now that we’ve consumed all the bottled water and eaten the two-day old pizza. As I mentioned, we’ve managed to destroy two cameras on our journey. That will be a purchase we make in Akron. I’ve also trashed a purse, a pair of cargo pants and shorts. There’s nothing like conspicuous consumption to lighten a load.

I became angry with KLM even before we got onto the plane. We were at the airport three hours before flight time and were the second in line as the check-in gate opened. We always ask for exit row or bulkhead seating and are able to get it quite often. Exit rows are usually not assigned ahead of time since they want to see that you’re physically able to handle it in an emergency. KLM must have a different system, because there were none available. Bulkhead seating is assigned to people with babies first, so I have to assume there will be a lot of them on board.

When we tried to use our American Express Platinum card to enter the Northwest/KLM lounge, we were denied access. We paid $300 for the card so we could use the lounges on long layovers and it’s been useless so far. We thought it would certainly be good when the sign said NW/KLM. We called the AmEx collect number in the States and were told it’s good in Northwest lounges anywhere in the U.S., but is only good in four airports overseas. That certainly wasn’t clear in the literature we got when we bought the card. We also purchased it as insurance for medical evacuation in an emergency. They’ll evacuate to the nearest appropriate hospital at no charge. That sounded good until I realized that if we needed it on safari I’m sure that the “nearest appropriate hospital” would have been in Nairobi. No thanks. I’m not at all pleased with the money we spent for something that didn’t suite our needs. Now all seventy-three of you know about it and all the people you forward this email to do as well.

My last beef in what I hope is the end of my list of complaints is that when we were already past security and found out we couldn’t use the lounge, I asked about Internet facilities. They were only in the main section of the airport and we weren’t permitted to go back there.

So far it’s been a long day and we face a night flight and arrival at our hotel early in the morning with no room booked until the afternoon. I plan to stretch out in the lobby at the Park Hotel in Amsterdam. Let them throw me out.

May 10, 2002-Re-orientation

The flight from Cape Town to Johannesburg was two hours. We had to stay on the plane for security reasons since it was going on to Amsterdam. We left after 1-½ hours and flew another 10 ½ hours to Amsterdam. Fortunately, the hotel had our room available and that’s where we are. They didn’t even try to charge us an extra day for early check-in. The prices here will have us in sticker shock. Our Akron travel agent got a great rate at the hotel, but the price they’re quoting now is almost $450/night. Believe me, it’s not a $450 room. It’s 7 AM and I’m going to join David in a nap. The Park Hotel is about 150 years old and the rooms are European small. We stayed here in 1974 on our first trip to Israel. Nothing about the hotel looks familiar.

Security leaving South Africa wasn’t tough at all and we had no immigration forms to fill out when we entered The Netherlands. David doesn’t think they care why we came. It was all very loose.

There were a couple of hair-raising moments when we became disoriented on the taxi ride from the airport. We definitely have to get used to right side driving, especially left turns and roundabouts.

It’s hard to believe we’re back in the Western world at last.

Toby

Last Days

May 8, 2002-Information
(photo:-Road to Grooteschwartberge Mts.)

I have a question. Just where is the garden on the Garden Route? The guidebook says that some people rave about the drive and some say you don’t need to go out of your way to see it. I think it’s over-rated and I could have lived without it. I would have preferred more time in Cape Town. South Africa was a last minute addition when we made our final booking in the spring of 2001. At the time, it made sense to add it since we had an around-the-world ticket and it didn’t cost any more. Now, I wish we’d gone straight home from Kenya. In 2001, I didn’t have the overwhelming desire to hug and speak to a pregnant belly in Akron. David is happy we came here and, now that we’re about to leave, I am too.

Our quaint little B & B last night had a quaint electrical system. We lost the lights twice. Fortunately, I’d finished writing the email and didn’t have to frantically unplug and hope to avoid a power surge. We decided not to eat at the B & B restaurant since the menu had nothing I wanted. We did go to Jemimas and learned that Jemima is a guardian angel. I also learned that the menus in the area are heavy on steak, lamb, and ostrich. I ended up with pasta. No, David didn’t try the ostrich. Evidently there’s a Biblical prohibition that specifically mentions that bird by name, so he decided against it. We also skipped the ostrich farms and the ostrich shows featuring ostrich riding. I did go into one gift shop to look at ostrich purses, but realized I had no idea what they should cost and left. We also skipped the Angora rabbit farms with Angora rabbit shows. I don’t know what kind of a performance a rabbit can put on and I guess I never will.

Imagination

Sometimes I forget where I am. It’s easy to do that in this part of South Africa. I’ve figured out that some of the architecture reminds me of the southwest U.S. Some of it reminds me of Florida. Oudtshoorn in sunlight is a cheerful conglomeration of those styles plus sandstone Edwardian buildings all of which have gracefully made the transition and have been adapted for modern use.

The main attraction in Oudtshoorn is the Cango Caves. A man armed with a tiny lantern discovered them in 1780. He never knew the extent of the caves or their beauty since he didn’t have the benefit of the electric lights that illuminate them now. The Bushmen used the cave entrance 10,000 years ago for shelter and left cave paintings, which have disappeared due to too many tourists touching them. They never knew about the caverns since they were afraid to go into the dark where they believed their ancestors spirits lived. They eventually left the entire region because of a lack of water. We explored the caves this morning along with 30 Taiwanese tourists, their guide/translator, and the English-speaking guide. Since my Chinese is limited to three phrases, I can say that I heard the commentary twice, but only understood it once. At one point the guide pointed to a formation with his flashlight and asked if we could see it. Before it could be translated, two loud voices called out, “Yes.” Guess who? At some points he cautioned us to “mind our heads” since the ceiling got rather low. I wonder to whom that applied? We were at the rear of the group and not one of the Taiwanese had to duck.

Gazing at rock formations was better than imagining shapes when looking at clouds. These ranged from the usual drapery effects of the stalactites to more elaborate arrays resembling tobacco leaves hung out to dry. There were delicate drippings that looked like a giant spider had woven a huge web and a column that looked as if it had been sculpted out of marble. Some shapes looked like fangs and others like gorilla faces. The “bridal bed” reminded me of the ice cave in the movie Superman I. One castle-like beauty appeared to have been intricately made by wet sand that had been drizzled by a child while playing at the beach. The guide proudly pointed to a wall that held what he said looked like a Bible and a cross. Boy, did he have the wrong audience. The grand finale was when all the lights were turned out and the guide played a throbbing drum-like sound on a wall of stalactites. He said it was what darkness in Africa sounds like. It was a primally visceral sensation.

The oldest formation was dated at 10.5 million years old. Unfortunately, the stalactites and stalagmites are no longer growing. Unlike other caves we’ve toured, there’s no dripping water here. This one is dry. The green tinges on the walls were algae growth caused by the lights they now use when the cave is open. They’re trying to limit the number of tours. The guide and translator repeatedly asked the people not to touch anything, but human nature is funny. They not only rubbed and touched the rocks, but also walked and climbed on them to get a better vantage point for photos.

Trekking Back

Cape Town was 4 ½ hours away and we had to cross the Klein Karoo, a high desert, and scale Grootschwartberge, an imposing mountain. This is when David and I had one of our more inane conversations. We had lots of mountain passes ahead of us. We thought it was better than having to go around and around the mountains to get to the other side. We decided that passes are good things. Passes are our friends. We went through one tunnel. Tunnels are even better than passes. We also drove through what is billed as the longest wine route in the world. It could have been worse. We were not interested in stopping for any wine tasting. If we found anything we liked, we couldn’t take it home with us. We have no room in our bags for anything but flat items. Shipping is costly and I don’t want to carry any more. We’re trying to keep track of six bags as it is.

The scenery was broken up by the occasional picture postcard village in a valley and by signs for Ronnies Sex Shop. I guess it fills a need in the middle of nowhere. We also rode by a primary school where children were playing next to walls that were decorated with red AIDS ribbons. It’s an overwhelming problem in Africa where one in four people is infected with HIV. Perhaps Ronnie can work something out in the way of condom distribution.

We could see Table Mountain from about twenty miles away and listened to talk radio as we rolled into the Cape Town area. The commentator said there is 25-40% unemployment in South Africa. It’s a big spread, but out of the six million unemployed, two million are unemployable due to age and physical condition. Even graduates of universities and technical colleges aren’t finding jobs. The Rand has fallen drastically in the last few years and economic growth just isn’t there. It sounded pretty bleak.

We’re meeting the in-laws of people we know in Akron for dinner. We’re looking forward to the evening and will bring regards from home.

Toby

One Week and Counting

May 7, 2002- Getting In Deeper
(Photo:De Opstal Country Lodge )

Our host at the ocean front guesthouse last night, Gary, is originally from South Africa. His family moved to Switzerland during apartheid when he was small. That probably makes him one of the good guys. He just returned two years ago and built the B & B. He’s a gracious host and let us use his email. As it turned out, he’s also a good cook. Breakfast this morning consisted of fresh fruit, crepe-like pancakes and eggs made to order. That was in addition to a selection of cereals, cheeses, and breads. He also has a sense of humor. There’s a sign on one of the garage doors that reads, “Please do not block this door. This parking space reserved for owners girlfriend.” He had crossed out girlfriend and written in fiancée. One of the other couples was from England. The Englishman proposed to his girlfriend on the beach yesterday before the rains came. The place just has that romantic effect on people. Eva and Heinrick, from Germany, didn’t show for breakfast. She was finishing the better part of a bottle of red wine last night when we went to bed. It’s lucky that we like animals. The B & B in Hermanus had a dog and this one had two dachshunds and a bullmastiff. I love them in all shapes and sizes. Being comfortable with cats and dogs may be a pre-requisite for staying at B & Bs.

The farther we get into this part of South Africa, the less English is spoken. The first language of choice is Afrikaans and we’ve even found some who don’t speak English at all. We noticed that most of the clerks in stores were colored while the blacks held more menial jobs. Apartheid is legally over, but the social and economic stratification remains. The language division exacerbates this as well. The blacks are less likely to speak English and I think that dual language ability is necessary to be upwardly mobile.

We went to Knysna in the rain today. It was a picturesque drive around forest lakes into a one-robot town. We read directions to the wharf shops and they included the notation that we had to turn at the only robot in Knysna. When we asked, the woman fumbled for an explanation. At last, she asked us if we were from the U.S. When we said we were she told us that we call it a traffic light. I never would have figured that one out. We parked the car and were given a bit of entertainment with our security car- watcher this time. He did a little dance as he directed the cars and helped them to maneuver in and out of the spaces. His arms waved, his hands moved in a syncopated rhythm with his feet as he used just the right amount of body language to get his point across.

We’ve found some very good food in South Africa even though the guidebook said the cuisine consisted mostly of meat and starch with sugar or honey added for interest. At lunch we were treated to tunes that seemed to come from an era of their favorite oldies. We were serenaded with “Wake Up Little Susie” and “Tammy” among others of that ilk. I’ve noticed that here and in Australia, and perhaps elsewhere out of the States, restaurants don’t necessarily have their own rest room facilities. There are public toilets nearby that serve a cluster of eateries. In India and Kenya I was lucky if they had a hole in the ground. We also noticed that their use of what we’d consider “racial slurs” is acceptable. I mentioned “colored” when they refer to someone of mixed race. Today we saw a children’s clothing store called “Piccanins.” It sold Aunt Jemima dolls. Tonight we’ll eat at a restaurant called Jemima’s.

The ferries into the lagoon on which Knynsa is situated weren’t running due to the weather, so we opted for a scenic crafts route on the way to Oudtshoorn and failed. It was called the Rheenendal Ramble, but the ramblin’ road stopped at a dirt track and we weren’t going to risk taking the car there. It was a pretty drive as far as it went with tinges of purple heather to distract from the monotony of the green hillsides. We have real heat tonight, a fireplace and a heater. We’ve been making do with space heaters and down comforters until now. We’re staying in Oudtshoorn at De Opstal Country Lodge. The owner, Matilda Schoeman, is the 9th generation of her family to live in the Schoemanskoek Valley. Established in 1831, it’s comprised of converted farm buildings. We’re staying in the stable. The floors are terra cotta tiles and the ceiling is covered with bamboo and beams. Eclectic is an understatement. We have a sitting area in front of the fireplace, our bathroom has two steps down then one up to the commode, and if we don’t cripple ourselves in the night we’ll live to enjoy the Cadbury chocolates on our pillows. Right now David is mesmerized by the fire. It’s not quite the ocean, but it will do. When it got dark last night he whinged that “they took the ocean away from me.”

In another vein, we’ve gotten some email from Australia telling about a rise in anti-Semitism there due to the crisis in the Middle East. We’re totally out of touch with U.S. news. Perhaps some of you could let us know if it’s the same there. We’ll be home in less than a week. When we spoke to Wendy this afternoon I said we’d see her soon. This time we really will.

Toby

Oh Wilderness

May 6, 2002-Paranoia
(photo:View from room at Dunes Lodge)

We had breakfast in the main house of the B & B. I didn’t realize the thatched roofs were visible from inside. The ceiling was vaulted and beamed and the thatch was exposed. It was charming. Unfortunately, one of the guests had their car broken into last night. Despite the wall and security alarms, someone got into the parking area, popped their door open, and took their radio. The wine that was in the back seat was untouched although it looked as if an attempt had been made to access the trunk from inside the car. We left just as the police arrived. Other than making a report for insurance purposes, there was little to be done.

When we parked to go into an Internet café, we were pretty paranoid. It was metered parking but there was also an official looking “car watcher” wearing a fluorescent vest who was offering to take care of the vehicles. I know there’s a saying in business: find a need and fill it. The people here seem to be very entrepreneurial and have come up with a variation on that theme. They’ve created a need and filled it. The locals are the ones who rip off the cars and other locals can extort “protection.” Even if we get out of the car for a short time we’ve started to put the backpack that sits in the back seat into the trunk.

No Eden

When we left Hermanus, we anticipated the beginning of the highly touted Garden Route. So far we’ve been disappointed. We’re not hard to please and reveled in the fact that the road was blacktopped and had a centerline. Drivers out here tend to pass in the Greek way by moving to the shoulder so faster cars can go around them. The courtesy is acknowledged by the passer briefly putting on the hazard lights (flashers) and the pasee saluting with his headlights. The way out of town was lined with rainbow hued rock walls of red and yellow and pink and brown, orange and mauve and gold. The road doesn’t hug the coast as we thought it would and we’ve spent today driving through pastureland. Although that’s not my favorite scenery, there were some sheep that deserved a second look. In this land where color and race is such an issue, I’m happy to report they have white sheep with black heads.

Aloe products are a thriving business in Albertinia and it was suggested we stop at an aloe factory. It was pouring and an indoor activity seemed like a good idea. They had a small café where we had pretty respectable hamburgers. There’s no heat in any of the buildings in the area even though temperatures dip into the low 50’s. The door to the café was open and a fire was going in a walk-in fireplace. We chose a table close to the fire and I kept sliding closer until David suggested we just move ourselves onto the hearth. When it came time for the tour, there was only one real English speaking person to guide us. Afrikaans is very pervasive in the Western Cape area. It’s the primary language of the coloreds, as they’re referred to here, and most of the whites. This is the route that the Boers took for their Great Trek in an attempt to leave the British behind. The factory was pretty rudimentary and the stench got into David’s nose and mouth. He had to eat a bag of small chips and drink some pop before it would go away.

Mossel Bay was a quaint little town that was eaten by a petroleum refinery. The plant dominates the approach from the West but doesn’t detract from the historical importance. Bartholomeu Dias landed in Mossel Bay in 1488. He was sailing a Portuguese caravel and was the first to sail around the Cape of Good Hope in search of a route to India. There was a model of the ship in the maritime museum and it was a wonder. In 1988, it actually was sailed from Portugal to Mossel Bay to celebrate the 500th anniversary of Dias achievement. It is 70 feet long and 20 feet wide. It’s the size of a modern tugboat. Even on land, the deck was slanted and the footing was insecure. The railings were very low and there just wasn’t a lot to keep a sailor from falling overboard. It was steered by using sails and a rudder and tiller system since the use of a wheel to steer hadn’t yet been invented. The enormity of the challenge was emphasized when we saw the navigational instruments available then. They were so primitive, but they seemed to do the job.

Near the museum is a 500-year-old milkwood tree called the Post Office Tree. Since 1501 sailors would put letters into a shoe under the tree. Anyone going in the direction of the recipient would pick the mail up and deliver it. Today the tree is the size of a large house and looks like it can go on for another 500 years. The branches have gotten so heavy they drape all the way to the ground. It’s very private and peaceful when you walk underneath.
Heaven

We slept well last night in spite of a thunderstorm. As I was dozing off a massively loud clap of thunder nearly lofted me out of bed. That was the last thing I heard until the alarm and the voice of our granddaughter Alex saying, “Love you Sabba and Savta. Hope to see you soon. Miss you. Bye.”

We’re sipping hot cocoa and eating cookies in our room at The Dunes Lodge, our B & B for tonight in Wilderness. There was a change in topography as we came into this area. All of a sudden we were in densely forested terrain. Our room has the most magnificent view of any place we’ve ever stayed. There’s an entire window wall with sliders out to a deck on the beach. The Indian Ocean is literally lapping at our door. There have been rainstorms on and off today and it’s reflected in the angry green-gray color of the sea. The waves are intimidating, large, and topped with foam that looks as if it has the consistency of shaving cream. The wind is whipping the white caps into froth and spray is flying two to three feet into the air. The house itself is new and modern in its adaptation of terra-cotta color stucco with a Mediterranean flair. The entry opens to a great room with soaring spaces that overlook the pool and ocean. With breakfast, the cost is $65.

David wants me to buy him an ocean. It will be very hard to tear him away to go to dinner. It’s dark now and all we can see is the white of the foam, a fading blue corner of sky, and the last glint of the sun on the clouds.

Toby

Hopes and Fears

May 5, 2002-Helpful
(photos:Us at Southernmost point of S. Africa,
Road compannion)

A question I would never think to ask at a Shell Gas Station: Do you take credit cards? We found one in Hermanus that only takes special bank debit cards for use at petrol stations. Credit cards aren’t accepted at any gas stations in South Africa. The gas was pumped and in our tank when we found out. We’re getting short on Rands and have to pay cash at our B & B tonight. I guess it’s a trip to a bank tomorrow to cash another travelers check.

I was interested in the explorers of long ago when I was a child. I was fascinated by them as a teacher. Names like Vasco de Gamma and Magellan sound to me like the Scott Carpenters and John Glenns of today. There was no way I wasn’t going to the Cape of Good Hope. It’s about an hour by car from Cape Town and we left before breakfast. We meandered along the shoreline to the town of Camp Bay and on to Hout Bay. There we stumbled into a restaurant called The Rumblin’ Tum. The food was plentiful and lovingly prepared, but the bonus was that there was a TOBI (Tourist Office of Booking Information) at the back of the place. We chatted with the owner/agent about our planned itinerary to the Cape and along the Garden Route. While we inhaled our breakfast she got us organized. She provided us with maps, routing, bookings, and a detailed verbal compass of written directions to our B & B’s as well as sights along the way. She cautioned us about dangerous roads to avoid and suggested driving times so we didn’t have to rush as we “tootled” along. Although one route looked shorter on the map, she said we could be assured that if the car broke down we’d be robbed, the car stolen, and perhaps our lives taken. This was in an area between the sand dunes and the highway to the airport. There are miles upon miles of “township” settlements just like the shantytowns of Soweto that we see on the news. From a distance, the bright colors of the patchwork shacks jump out, but up close it’s deadly.

The way to the Cape took us through the wine country of Constantia, upscale walled residential neighborhoods, past horseback riders in traditional English habits, and cottages with thatched roofs. We climbed up into the Tokai forest and down through seaside dunes. Towns were pastel blurs hanging between the crags and sea. Buildings were a hodge-podge of Cape Dutch, tile roofs, and stucco construction giving them a Mediterranean ambience. Scuba divers were parked on the roadside at every turn and unabashedly changed into and out of their wet suits..

We paid our entry fee at the Cape Peninsula National Park. David later noted that no one checked our tickets to be sure we’d not sneaked in by bribing an official as they did in Kenya. For a minute we did think we were back on a game drive. The road was posted with warnings about the danger of feeding the baboons and we were kept alert dodging ostrich. There were enough ostrich to say there was a herd but I didn’t know if this was the correct terminology. I knew that a gaggle was of geese and ostrich are too big to be a flock. I decided that a large number of ostrich was an oodle. Oodles of ostrich has a nice ring.

Hopeful

The Cape of Good Hope is where the warm waters of the Indian Ocean meet the cold Atlantic. We were headed for the south-westernmost point in Africa overlooking this region called Cape Point. It was raining as we boarded a funicular that went up to a promontory where there was a lighthouse built in 1857. By the time we reached the top, the sun was out and the clouds had lifted. We ended up in the midst of a Turkish tour group whose English consisted of “Istanbul, Turkia, and Bosphorous.” Everyone was taking each others pictures and we understood when they offered to take ours. We returned the favor.

As we were leaving the park, we saw a road going down to Cape Point at sea level. It was a terrifying and impressive experience. We were face to face with enormous roiling breakers and could easily see white caps crashing over daunting reefs. A freighter was rounding the Cape and making its way West from the Indian to the Atlantic Ocean and the plight of the early mariners became clear. Our respect for them grew as we thought about how they were out in the elements in small ships without the aid of sonar, radar, radios, satellites, or global positioning and weather data.

Our drive towards the Garden Route took us through Strand, an unimpressive seaside town of bland buildings across from a bleak beach littered with kelp and pebbles. I think the beaches of the Gold Coast have spoiled me forever. The natural beauty surely outshone the manmade. The sun was bouncing from sea to mountains as it illuminated the vertical rib-like rocky protrusions that clung to the cliffs. Black storm clouds hung over the peaks as we admired the red rock face that covered the lower ranges. The drive was so pristine that even the overlooks were paved with tidy red bricks in neat geometric patterns. I’ve seen mountains, sea, and sky in such a splendid display before this. I guess I’m blessed with a poor memory since each time I look upon those wonders it’s like seeing them for the first time.

We made good time since we realized that certain stretches of road had no speed limit. We got to Hermanus at dusk and had trouble finding our B & B, Westcliff House. The voucher had the wrong house number on it. We sorted things out as the heavens opened and we had to dodge the rain as the thunderstorm that avoided us all day hit with a vengeance. It was short lived and we moved into our cozy $30/night room. Westcliff House is behind a wall and has an electric security fence. All the houses in this neighborhood do. All the houses in all of the nice neighborhoods do. The B & B is a salmon colored stucco building with a thatched roof. I feel like I’m going to be sleeping with Shakespeare tonight.

We had pizza for dinner. We tried one with beef and peri-peri sauce. That’s a spicy African marinade. It was delicious even with the gherkins that were on the pizza. They served a dish of minced garlic on the side. I was in garlic lovers heaven and liberally applied the mushed cloves making a big dent in the bowl. I hope Shakespeare likes garlic.

Toby