Where's Waldo?

Imagine the feeling that rushes over you when you see a live African animal in its natural habitat 20 feet in front of you for the first time. Breathtaking is all I can say. That first afternoon out we saw hippos, a crocodile, leopard, lions, and tracked elephants - none of them with any ease I must add; it was more of a where's Waldo expedition. But the guides are amazing - very professional, intuitive, and collaborative. They work together and share information about tracks and sounds, animal behavior and movement. The safari vehicle is a land cruiser with a canopy and stadium type seating. Besides me (someone who likes nice teeth but otherwise knows nothing about them), occupants in the truck include my friend, Cheryl, a dental hygienist, Cheryl, a teacher and her husband Geoff, a dental sales rep along with Gary another dental sales rep and his wife Judy an office manager in a dental office. These factoids I reveal to give you a sense of what our group was like. The two couples have been married for ages and have amusing and sardonic interactions. Judy and Gary in particular had us all in stitches most of the time with their banter. Cheryl, the teacher, was hilarious asking Frank to repeat and spell everything he said as English is not his first language and she doesn't speak Ndebele - the mother tongue.

We were all donning our safari gear, buttoned up to the neck and down to the ankles with lightweight mosquito repellent & SPF clothing we reinforced with a covering of bug spray just to make sure. I got eaten alive anyway but at least I didn't get malaria, which evidently stays with you forever if contracted. We topped off our fashion statement with hats and rugged shoes which ended up with souvenir elephant dug between the tread. Adornments included sunglasses, binoculars, cameras, water, pen and paper (to record interesting facts). Recall that I mentioned I took my old film camera to use on safari and my digital point and shoot as backup. Well I jammed the film in my camera and broke it the first bloody night out. Hence forward I was solely reliant on my happy snappy which I'm pleased to say performed pretty well.

So after a thorough ornithology lesson and the wonderment that is birds that aren't pigeons and crows it was time to get down to serious game viewing. We first came across a hippo pool where half a dozen or so were bobbing around. Hippos are enormous! The have a slick hairless coat and jaws that will crush just about anything. They are one of the most ferocious creatures in Africa and are responsible for most human deaths there each year (aside from war and disease). They hang out in the cool water during the day, able to stay under water for 6 minutes at a time, and rove around grazing at night. It is said that they are close relatives of whales and porpoises. While not vehemently territorial by nature, hippos spread their dung on trees on the pool's perimeter to stake claim in their watering hole. We were just about to pass through a flooded out dip in the trail when we spotted a 3 foot crocodile swimming in it! Good thing Frank had good reflexes and a reverse gear.

We could tell there were elephants in the area because of the destruction all around us. Trees are uprooted in search of water and bark is peeled off a large tree to get to the sap beneath it. They wrap their strong trunks around tree limbs tearing it off its trunk and stuff the whole thing into their mouth. It seems like they would run out of food in no time in their territory. But nature is so perfect that the seeds coming out during defecation germinate and generate new growth beginning the cycle all over again. We were so excited to see elephants (which evaded us that day) but as we rounded a curve there lay a stunning, slumbering pride of lions in a meadow. Lions are the laziest creature in the wild sleeping 22 hours and hunting the other 2. It is the job of the lioness to track and capture food but the male gets first dibs. A male is not considered part of the pride beyond 3 years old and may have a few prides in his territory. At three, strong and capable lions leave their mothers' clutches and seek their own prides and territories. This pride, about a dozen strong, was guarded by a big beautiful male who acknowledged our presence making sure we weren't a threat. Most continued to dream but a few of them were curious to see who the paparazzi was.

Frank got word that there was a leopard draped over a branch reserving his energy for hunting and waiting for the blistering heat to pass. So we sped off hoping to catch up with him before the other lookieloos chased him away. He let us gawk at him for a few minutes before becoming perturbed. He leaped off the tree and meandered back and forth in front of our vehicles for a while in search of private solitude. He was very cool to let us encroach on his space and most tolerant of our following his every move.

Night was falling and as I've already described cocktail hour as being critical to the safari experience so we high-tailed it over to the lagoon for a glass of wine as the sun set the sky on fire. A botswana sunset is one to behold and one I'll never forget.

March 5, 2009

Check out what Ron Kaye has to say about the election results and Measure B.

My dog has more sense

So I woke this am with hope in my heart that things took a drastic detour from the upsetting news last night that the mayor of Los Angeles was probably still the mayor - sadly, he is. But I don't think it was the landslide victory he was hoping for. He earned a paultry 55% meaning only 8% of the voting populous gave him the thumbs up which loosens the cog in his chances of becoming governor next year. Just when you think it couldn't get worse than Arnie "the governator" Shwartzenegger enter Tony V. That would really be a travesty. As it is I am baffled that he sneaked in however narrowly. There isn't anyone I know - conservative or liberal, white, black, brown, purple, rich or poor, who think he is doing a good job. The cronyism is rampant and troubling in this town but that's only part of the issue. If people don't care we're bound to get more of the same and we deserve every lousy, expensive thing they lay on us.

Gypsies, Tramps & Thieves

Los Angeles voters may have been disenfranchised today. True to form the corrupt city government machine is at work yet again and here's why I make this claim. It could be a series of coincidences but I am not in the mood to give Villaraigosa and his village idiots the benefit of the doubt.

I usually vote at 7am before go to work but this day Damon and I had talked about going together after work. I was on my way home when I got a phone call from my neighbor saying that the polling place where we've voted in every election for 8 years was locked up tight. Alright, so they moved the polling place. We located it on the back of our sample ballots and found that it had moved from a large classroom in a church school with plenty of parking to the back of a minuscule carpet store with no designated parking and inconvenient access. This made me think that well-intentioned voters may have just shined it not willing to endure the grief.

I walked in with my neighbor at 6pm and the volunteers congratulated him as being the 100th voter. One hundred voters in a Mayoral election of the 2nd largest city in America 2 hours before the poll closes? Are you kidding me? I shouldn't be so surprised as the election is being held one month earlier than it usually is and has gotten relatively little press. This particular polling venue was barely identifiable marked only with a dwarfed US flag stuck in the mud street side and a scribbled sign on the entrance to the store which is on a different corner than the building address and front entrance. When we questioned the poll workers they said "hey we just put out what they give us". Finding Easter eggs or the f'n Easter bunny for that matter is probably easier than locating our polling place.

My hope is that there was a enough dissonance with the abysmal performance of this mayor to spur a runoff in May. Tony V doesn't even want to be mayor - he has his sights set on the gubernatorial race next year. But the honest truth is that most people are apathetic - living in little bubbles not paying attention to what their government is doing. And more often than not they are plundering us. The incumbent mayor refused to debate any of his competitors citing that they were insignificant. This sends a message to me that he hasn't got a clue about what's going on in his city because he's never here doing the people's business and would be walloped on the issues. Moreover, it illustrates total contempt for the people of Los Angeles.

I decided to check in on the results before I post this and find that I too have contempt for LA voters. It appears as though the mayor will keep his job and I wonder which city his supporters live in...certainly not the same Los Angeles that I do. It is staggering how poorly engaged people are.

Exercise your right - VOTE!!!!!

If we are to save Los Angeles and have a hope in hell of restoring our standing as a safe and prosperous city we must unseat this do nothing, corrupt, incompetent mayor. Please go to the polls tomorrow and cast your ballot. It is your duty as a taxpaying American to engage in the political process and get involved in the future of your city. Viva Los Angeles and send Villaragosa back to cleaning toilets!

Bush Life

We went out on our first safari following tea the afternoon we arrived at Camp Moremi. With much gratitude I landed in Frank's vehicle with my best girlfriend, Cheryl, and two other couples I'd met on the trip. All of us are novice photographers whose primary interest above all else is learning and having a good time. The other 2 trucks in our group were full of photographers donning 8 inch lenses, tripods, monopods, and other annoying paraphernalia. Ours was kicked back and fun-loving making for an even better experience than I could have hoped for. We left camp in our land rover and bounced along the off road trails in the back bush; everything new and and exciting. Frank, our guide, is a 23 year native of the Botswana bush and the son of a true bushman. He told us that he goes out into the wild for a month at a time with nothing more than the clothes on his back. He can survive solely on the land around him and he shared many of the bushman's tips and tricks with us.

I've already mentioned that dozens and dozens of bird species flutter all around us and we happened upon a few of them in the first few minutes of the safari. The national bird, once the lilac breasted roller, is now the African fish eagle. (It changes with the government.) Only one of two fish eagle eggs will survive because the first hatched pecks its sibling's shell so ferociously it snuffs out life. This gorgeous iridescent blue bird pictured is called a long-tail starling.

Frank taught us all about the plant life found in the bush as well. The Marula tree is my personal favorite - coined bar of the jungle by one of the girls with us. Known to make monkeys drunk, its fruit is harvested to make a creamy adult beverage which is served over ice and is just the thing after a day on safari in the heat. We saw sausage trees which nourish giraffes and an abundance of acacias. We learned that elephant ear can be used for toilet paper (or firecrackers) and the bark of Botswana's 3 in 1 tree is a good natural toothbrush and toothpaste. It also stains your lips like lipstick. The leaves of the large fever berry tree are used by villagers to cure malaria and wild sage is rubbed on hunters' skin to mask their scent plus it repels mosquitos. Many herbs are found in the wild like basil which can be used easily in cooking but wild sage will spoil meat. Certain prey will deliberately eat wild sage so their predators will find them foul and steer clear. On that note... we learned that predators' eyes are situated on the front of their face but located on the side for prey. There is a tree called the strangler fig. New seeds germinate and grow in crevices literally choking off sunlight to the host tree which eventually dies as competition in a dense dark forest is fierce.

The back woods is riddled with termite hills. I initially thought that it was the remnants of trees just chowed down to dust by termites. They are actually started by one male and one female which mix their saliva with dirt and start building their palace. They spawn and the next generation, soldiers, continue to build and protect the nest before giving birth to the workers. A live mound resembles wet cement. One that is no longer living is just a dry heap and is a haven for black mambo snakes. This is significant because the mounds are also used by humans as cover when nature calls. :]

"Love Bites"

I generally like to stay home on Friday nights because I'm so tired from pushing myself through the week but it does make the weekend feel longer if you go out and do something. My neighbor is a very competent actor and is playing in a show call Love Bites on stage at the Elephant Theater on theater row in Hollywood weekends through March 14th. It is the 8th volume of their annual Valentine's themed production under the artistic direction of David Fofi presented in 8 vignettes described as not so romantic & dysfunctional love stories. Each short comedy is an interesting (and disturbing) interpretation of love and the underlying pleasures, pain and passion that is the reality of such a knotty topic. All eight are well written and well acted but four standout as exceptional: Karinanaed (the overwhelming favorite) Everything I Do (starring my friend, Matt) Dirt, and Strings. Go on....'tis a cheap night out.

Pula!

Pula is Botswana's currency and literally means blessings; blessings of a more traditional ilk like rain, a good harvest and good health. Botswana and all its blessed charms is my new favorite country. We learned all about village life on the the one hour road trip from Victoria Falls over the Botswana border taking us past "four corners", the junction of Zimbabwe, Zambia, Botswana and Namibia. The road is a paved two lane highway running right smack through the wilderness. We had to slam on the brakes as a leopard leaped out in front of the van and darted across the road. For miles we drove over heaping mounds of fresh elephant dung and minutes later had to stop the vehicle and wait for the behemoth dung maker to cross to the other side. Our destination was the Okavango Delta accessible only by chartered airplane. We drove to the Kasane airport which is nothing more than what would be called a regional airport and climbed aboard a 20 seat plane. Weight is a very important factor limited to 20 kilos so many of the people in my group took only the necessities and stored the rest in a secure place at the airport. Somehow I got to sit up front with the pilot for the one hour flight over Chobe and Moremi National forests. I was shocked to see that auto pilot is used for most of the flight even through severe storm clouds.

The Delta is 27,000 square kms in area and home to only 60 camps. Eco-tourism is the mainstay industry in Botswana and the government is most concerned about it's preservation - both the area and the industry. Once we left the storms in our wake and could see the Delta in full view it is like nothing I've ever seen before. The closest resemblance I can think of is the Everglades in Florida. We landed on a dusty, gravel-y patch in the middle of nowhere. If you were on the correct side of the plane on approach you could spot giraffes grazing. There was a herd of stunning impala as well as our camp crew there to greet us. They told us that occasionally the ground staff have to drive their Landrovers like maniacs to chase off the animals grazing on the "runway". We deplaned in 100 degree heat, and humidity that robs your breath. We secured our places in vehicles with guides who we would remain with for the next couple of days and headed for camp. Camp Moremi is where we would make our home for the next 2 nights.

We pulled up to a hidden hideway in the trees on the water's edge and were met by Setch and Angi handing us cool cloths to wipe our faces from the journey. They asked each of us our names, matching our rooms and luggage, and escorted us to the dining hut for a gourmet lunch, al fresco. After lunch we had a couple of hours to get settled in and relax a bit before tea.

Setch showed us to our tent winding through the lush grounds and filled us in on the camp rules and expected program. Since this is a natural habitat for myriad bush animals we were not allowed to walk around the camp unescorted after dark. Our tent was one removed from "hippo highway". The tents are affixed to stilted wood decks about a hundred yards apart appointed with lofty beds, comfy linens, a fan, mosquito netting and bug spray both for room and body, tea station,
and an ensuite bathroom.
There is a seating area outside for enjoying the monkeys and baboons swinging in the trees along with countless species of birds and the choruses they sing. The most common is that of the red-eyed dove gargling a tune that sounds like he's introducing himself..."I am a red-eyed dove, I am a red-eyed dove, I am a red-eyed dove....over and over again to infinity - and insanity if you let it get to you but better than horns and sirens any day.

Electricity is only available during the day via generators which is turned off at night making the orchestra even more audible. It is so loud and soothing out there in the bush with all the animals lulling you to sleep singing, grunting, farting - yes, we could hear hippos farting, or at least making a similar noise - and baboons make this weird sort of clicking noise. Once you can turn your brain off which is trying to identify the different sounds it is the most beautiful sleep ever, even though it's still hot and sticky and the luxury of a fan is removed.

At Camp Moremi the safari experience is an all inclusive vacation and the program is fulfilling in every way. The staff, who are such warm, funny and amazing people arise at 5am and give you a morning "knock up" - they come to the door and softly say hellooooo until you answer indicating you're awake. They return at 5:30 to escort you to the dining hut for a nourishing continental breakfast of homemade pastries, yogurt, fruit like papaya, lychee, mango, & passion fruit, coffee, etc. before you depart for a 6 am safari. The morning safari is about 4 hours long with a little snack break in between - more homemade goodies and coffee. Then you return to the camp and have a little time to freshen up before a gourmet brunch is served. The food is unbelievable! Delta Desert & Safari, the corporate conglomerate that operates this and other camps in the Delta, plans the same meals for each camp and delivers food twice/month to each. There seems to be no waste at all. Whatever is left over from dinner the night before may be found in your lunch the next day in some variation like a casserole or stew. The food is some of the best I've ever tasted - they are very creative in the meals they prepare using seasonal and readily available fresh foods. The afternoon is free to do whatever you wish - swim, nap, journal, read up on the Delta in the lounge library, shop for local souvenirs in the curio shop, whatever you fancy. Tea time is 3:30pm consisting of a light and delicious snack and the evening safari at 4. With a stop for cocktails at sunset around 7ish - gin and tonic being the signature drink - you're returned between 7:30 and 8 for a quick change of clothes and more cocktails before dinner, usually at 8:30. Dinner is served in the formal dining room which is a very open and modern space with rich leather furniture and African inspiration. The staff introduces each other and the meal they have hand prepared for the evening.

After dinner a fire is built in an open pit outside where you can enjoy a digestif or coffee and have a chat around the fire under the wide open summer southern sky. This is the point in the evening where the escorts get a great deal of exercise walking back and forth from campfire to tent as people begin to nod off after such a thrilling and adventurous day.

Hooray for Snow

President's Day weekend always falls right around Damon's birthday so we usually plan a getaway. This year I thought it would be fun to go skiing. Damon and I have been together for 13 years and we've never skied together. We have family who lives in central Oregon near Mount Bachelor, part of a volcanic chain on the south east side of the Cascade mountain range, and arguably some of the best skiing on the west coast. I have been fortunate enough to ski Whistler, British Columbia in the Canadian Rockies and Lake Tahoe in California's own Sierra Nevada range (as well as local mountain resorts) and Bachelor is a worthy rival. I am merely a novice on two little sticks but I like to have fun and have new experiences. I really want to try snow boarding but I'm glad I was talked out of it this trip because I would have spent the day by myself on the bunny hill. As it were, me, Damon and his sister's family were all happy on the blue runs and could all carve up the mountain together.

Only a 25 minute drive from town, Bachelor boasts a 9000 + feet summit. My sister-in-law said the Bend area has had the mildest of the five winters they've lived there but had been graced by storms up from the south for the week prior to our visit. When we arrived on Saturday morning, St. Valentine's Day, it was cold, gray and snowing. It continued to snow intermittently the whole weekend leaving a beautiful blanket on the mountain peaks. We had awesome 2500' runs of fresh powder not unbearably crowded for a holiday weekend. Fatigued with sore muscles (mostly from playing Wii baseball) I fell a few times on my last run of the day. Falling isn't such a big deal especially on marshmallow but getting back up again is brutal work. I'd just cringe each time I felt myself lose balance or get stuck in a heavy drift because I could foresee the difficulty trying to snap into skis on a slippery vertical wearing myself out trying to keep my footing. I realized I should just turn in my gear and go to the bar. The sun, hidden in dense wet clouds most of the day, sat over the summit like a halo as I sipped Irish coffee awaiting the rest of my crew to take their last run. I sat on the chalet terrace enjoying the contrast of warm rays on my face and crisp air in my lungs thinking how perfect some days are.

This is a cool shot from the air of the back side of Half Dome in Yosemite National Park

Bring on '09

Vusa is one of the guides working for Shearwater Adventures and was manning a kayak on our rafting trip. We had a chance to talk on the way back to our hotel. He hails from one of the villages I described and gave me a little more insight to life on such a homestead. He said he was lucky to live close to school when he was a child but some of his 35 classmates would walk up to 50 kilometers each way to school. Classes began at 7 am and finished by 2 pm so they had enough time to get home before dark in winter. He said he loved school because they had a soccer field out back. He honed his skills and played professionally as a young man competing throughout Zimbabwe. Since he'd grown up with the river in his his back yard it was only natural for him to return to it once his soccer career ended. Now he feels as though the Zambezi no longer challenges him and he as been sending his c.v. around the world with hopes of landing a job with another exciting adventure company. Born the first of five children and the only boy, he himself had two sons but one of them died of pneumonia. Without complaint he expresses that he hopes for a better future for his remaining son.

We were in a very remote part of Zimbabwe. I don't even know how far from a proper city we were. I was trying to take in both the landscape and as much information from Vusa as possible while we drove - snapping photos not being terribly opportunistic. But this is a general idea of what a village dwelling looks like. I missed a precious shot of a handful of ladies standing around a large pump, maybe seven feet tall, one of them rocking up and down on the hand crank and the others awaiting their turn to extract water from the ground. Women have enormous responsibility in this way of life much like it was here a hundred years ago. But there is a sense of gratitude that emanates from them anyway.

Today is New Year's Eve and there is a celebration at the Kingdom Hotel. The Christmas decorations are still up and the staff is milling around making sure the dining room is arranged for dinner and dancing while festive enough to usher in a promising new year. I was spent. We'd been burning it for days and New Year's is never a party I really care about. I thought I'd write a little and then lay down for a nap before dinner having the thought if I wake up I'll participate and if I don't I don't. I finally nodded off but shortly thereafter was awakened to a nice glass of Argentine wine that had been transported from the States, spent 3 days Lord knows where and then delivered unadulterated to my bedside. Melbac, a mellow grape varietal perfectly suited to the Argentine climate, was the kick in the pants I needed to get my lampshade on and cut up a rug. A pleasant dinner was served with a few local favorites, save the caterpillar, including a beautiful turkey. The entertainment was supposed to be a band until 11pm followed by a DJ till 2am. The band (to my chagrin) played horrible songs like "I Shot the Sherriff" in a dreadfully uncool way aaaaaall niiiiiight looooong. Everybody else loved it, especially the staff. The dance floor was packed - illuminated only by the bluish glow of cell phones held high to capture the memories. We wore paper crowns on our heads - the prize from our Christmas crackers found on our dinner plates - and paper streamers spun rainbows from the cieling fans. The champagne went around the table and we helped to elect Lois the best dancer of the night. Lois is a woman in our group who had just celebrated her 74th birthday a couple of days earlier - on the plane in fact. She made John Travolta look like a chump! The DJ never did show up but that didn't phase anyone in the least. I turned into a pumpkin shortly after midnight but I heard that the party went on 'till the wee hours. Evidently my friend Vusa showed up asking for me but I was long in dreamland. He had invited us to come to a party with the locals being held at "Shoestrings" but I couldn't get any of the guys to go along as an escort. The honest truth being that I just wasn't brave enough to go on my own. We had to be up bright and early for our transfer to Botswana and I wasn't about to get left behind in a country where credit cards aren't accepted and hyperinflation prohibits normal commercial functioning. I don't need much but potable water is more than a luxury in my book.