Arty and Betsey's Travels

India--1/10-1/30/12 - Part 3

2012-01-28T12:17:00.001-05:00

JaipurDriving through the countryside towards Jaipur, we spotted several wild peacocks, the national bird. It made me wonder how a people who could choose such a beautiful bird as their national symbol could cover most of their country with litter and garbage. Perhaps they compensate with the sari, for it is the vivid and diverse colors of the saris on even the poorest of women that brings beauty and color and contrasts to what seems like a relatively barren and grey country. We reached our hotel, the Oberoi Rajvilas, in Jaipur in two hours. Just outside is the usual squalor. Inside are 32 acres of beautiful gardens and fountains and pavilions. The main building is designed to look like the forts we've seen, complete with moat, and the main pool is flanked by stone elephants and pillars. There are 70 rooms of which 13 are what they call luxury tents. We have one of those and actually the tent part is only the roof which has an embroidered lining. It's all quite lovely and for a time you forget what you just drove through.After lunch, our guide took us to the old city of Jaipur for a casual walk around. Jaipur is the capital of Rajasthan, India's largest state with a population of 50 million. Jaipur has 4 million and was founded in 1727 and was the first planned city in India. Or so it was then. The old city is built as nine large long blocks with squares at each end of the blocks. To commemorate the visit of the Prince of Wales in 1857 the Maharaja had the whole city painted pink, a color of welcome. Today, after every few monsoon seasons, the city is repainted although it no longer looks pink but more terra cotta in color. At any rate the prettiest parts of the city, the only pretty parts we've seen so far, are the outer walls and entrance gates which are painted with white designs and motifs.We walked inside the walls along long covered arcades lined with shop stalls. We climbed up to a roof atop the stalls, stepped over a sleeping (or dead) man and watched the scene. Because it was Sunday, many stalls were closed so there were only reasonable mobs of people walking along. Of course, there are no stop lights, so to cross the street our guide tells us to pretend we are holy cows and just walk straight and slow. It worked, just like we did it in Saigon.Our guide explained many of the products and foods being sold. Betsey and I had noticed as we drove in the past that many stalls had what looked to her like lottery tickets and looked to me like condoms hanging from them. Up close it turns out these are single use packets of beetle juice which the people chew and spit out, preferably all over the sidewalks. There is nothing pretty here with the possible exception of the way the vendors stack their vegetables in concentric circles, neat piles, or alternate rows. Other vendors ply the aisles hawking their wares. Shoemakers in the street use parts of old tires to resole shoes. We thought of the souks in Morocco, but this was far grittier.We stopped on the way back at a carpet and wood block printing plus junk souvenir tourist trap. The rug man's explanation and demonstration of how they made the rugs was interesting and fine as were the many rugs he showed us, would that we were interested in buying. The rest of it---I couldn't leave fast enough. Driving back to the hotel we passed rows of tin shacks and make-shift tents along the road where Bangladeshi refugees live. There are 50,000 in Jaipur alone, as if India didn't have enough of its own poor people. Very depressing to see all this human and ecological devastation. A quiet dinner in the hotel and to bed.Things looked up the next morning. For one thing, it was a clear, crisp, sunny day that turned out to be our warmest day so far. Then we noticed as we drove towards the old city that there had been some sweeping overnight, albeit piles of garbage marked each street corner. The people were busy going to work, or waiting along the roadside to be hired for the day (a la Stamford's day laborers' pick up site), putting out their wares, men getting haircuts or shaves, men peeing with free abandon wherever they pleased, women grinding tools, sweeping the streets, private school children in uniform scurrying to the bus. A busy scene. Our first stop was to look at the exterior of the Hawa Mahal, or Palace of the Winds. It features 953 windows from which the royal ladies of the court could watch court processions and festival parades without being seen. The royal ladies were never to be seen, only enjoyed by the Maharajah or among other ladies. Speaking of which, let me provide a little historical perspective here. Mughal is a bastardization of Mongol. It seems when the muslim mongols invaded India from Mongolia, the locals couldn't pronounce their name right and it came out mughal. Hence the mughal empire. The mughal empire was first established in Rajasthan and then expansion and intermarriage led to the blending of mughals with the Indians. I say all this because we next visited the Amber Fort (which has nothing to do with the stone and is actually a royal palace not a fort) which sits high up on a hill, just below a large fort that stretches across the top of this high hill. The original fortress was built in the 11th century and included an 11 mile wall that surrounds what was once this capital city. To get to the Palace, we mounted elephants gaily decorated with paint, and ascended to the Palace. We would have felt like pashas if not for the hawkers who buzzed like honey bees all over and around us while we waited for our elephant and on a good part of the ride up and when we alit in the large courtyard of the palace. The palace itself was begun in the 16th century and constructed and improved over the next two hundred years. It is of sandstone plastered with marble and sea shell dust to give it a smooth sheen. Delicately decorated with frescos using the dust of precious stones blended with a sealing gum, what remains is still vivid. Mughal's at one point occupied the palace for eight months and wanted to remove the hindu frescos and painted over them in white. Those that remain are non-religious and often resemble the motifs of persian carpets. The public audience hall features a dazzling ceiling of inlaid mirrors and painted ornamentation. The palace had many "modern" conveniences such as a unique air conditioning system and toilets. There were summer apartments high up to catch the breezes, winter apartments facing the sun, and rainy season apartments that caught the rain for recycling. There were hidden tunnels large enough for the Maharajah to escape in an invasion to the fort above while still riding his horse.The hindu Maharajahs didn't have harems (that was for the muslims) but they did have concubines and eunuchs to protect them, and we saw their quarters as well. Interesting to note that there are 5,000 eunuchs still living in Jaipur today. This palace was the epicenter of a very successful brokered marriage between the hindu Maharajah and a mughal princess which united the families for mutual reward and led to great wealth for this combined ruling family. Since the location was along the routes of both the Silk road and the Spice road, the tolls collected enriched the coffers of the king, making the city state one of the wealthiest in India. All the jewels the Maharajah bestowed on his well-connected wife weighed her down so much, she had two maids pulling her all round the palace on a cart so she didn't have to walk anywhere.We jeeped down rather than ride the steep hill on elephants and stopped to see the Water Palace, which was originally built in the middle of a forest, but one of the Maharajahs decided to build a dam to create a lake around the palace so they could hunt ducks in the water. Sounds dumb to me. The first floor is under water and they intend to open a restaurant in the rest of the Palace one day.We headed to the famous Solar Observatory. It seems a Maharajah who became king at age 11 was very bright and curious; when he got older he was a strong warrior and commanded the mughal army and traveled widely. He was fascinated by astronomy and in 1728 created a large outdoor observatory with the world's largest sun dial (maybe 30 feet high) that is accurate to within 2 seconds. There are twelve other largish sundials, each one used to determine the astrological sign at the moment of birth (hindu astrology is based on the exact moment of birth, not the month, or even the year as the Chinese do it). And because hindus are very superstitious, accuracy is vitally important in determining a person's future, who he or she marries, etc. It is here that we learn why India is 10 1/2 hours from our time. It seems when the British left (they had used Greenwich time), the Indians wanted one time zone throughout the whole country. They chose as their reference point the place where the three holiest rivers converge near Varanasi, and based on this sun dial it came out a half hour off from every other country's time zone. So be it.Our final stop of the day was to the vast city palace within the walls of the old city. In fact, it covers 1/7 of the whole city. We had lunch in a cafe there and then toured the public rooms which had richly decorated ceilings and gates. It is here that the two largest silver pieces in the world are located, giant 6 foot tall/ 10 feet around water urns that the Maharajah had made to take with him to have Ganges water to drink while he was in London for the coronation of King Edward in 1902. Now these maharajahs lived high on the hog well into the 20th century. The British made peace with them and left them to run local things until in 1952 the Indian constitution stripped them of ruling and taxing power. Then, in 1970 Indira Ghandi changed the constitution again and stripped them of the rest of their perks making them commoners. The perks included paying no taxes, no water or electricity bills and special no number license plates. So the Maharajahs continue today in name at least, but don't cry for the Maharajah of Jaipur. He's only 14, but he lives with his parents in a seven-story palace that is part of the city palace. And he collects rent from the museum that is housed in part of the city palace. As we headed out of Jaipur the next morning and headed to Jodhpur, we drove through the "new" city of Jaipur which was characterized by wide boulevards, some modern office buildings, a good deal of construction going on, and large and sometimes fashionable looking apartment houses. The streets were also cleaner, and we saw why when we noticed a couple working together. She did the sweeping and he had the dust pan and dust brush to pick it up and put it in a wheelbarrow. Speaking of couples, let me mention marriage in India. Most marriages are arranged. (All of our guides have had arranged marriages) and often the groom doesn't meet his wife until their wedding day. If he or she is lucky they get to see a photo. But here's the rub. The divorce rate in India is virtually nil. I guess the system works. We are told that in the more modern families one or the other prospects can decline, but it is very rare. On the other side of the coin, in the traditional hindu families, if a husband dies, the widow is forced almost into exile. She does not attend family events and is expected to stay with her in-laws and spend the rest of her life in quiet meditation and mourning. Unless the widow is very young, the thought of remarriage is frowned upon. Back on the road it took us an hour to get out of Jaipur and an interminable seven hours to get to Jodhpur. And it was seven hours of mostly slow driving behind big trucks on one or two lane roads or through construction of an intermittent six-lane highway that was way too short to enjoy. Trucks, incidentally, are huge, hulking things covered in bright flags, sparkling streamers, and painted with hindu good luck signs and religious symbols. Obviously, the drivers feel they need all the luck they can get on these roads.The scenery was flat, scraggly, and boring. Even the occasional small villages we drove through were a repetition of tired, littered, poor, and dusty. In short, it was not a pleasant drive although, to be fair, our guts weren't bounced all over as on some previous roads here. And, no, there apparently are no direct flights from Jaipur to Jodhpur.JodhpurIn the end, rising like a peach-beige sandstone oasis high on a hill, or was it a mirage, sat our hotel, the Umaid Bhawan Palace. We thought we were at a replica of the Capital in Washington, but it was our hotel, complete with a hand-held red welcome canopy to walk under while rose petals were tossed at us, a garland placed around our necks, and cooling towels pressed to our hands, and juice offered. We heard the magical word "upgraded"and were shown to two very handsome, sumptuous suites. After decompressing a bit, we were given a guided tour of some of the place. This palace was begun in 1929 during a drought and famine to provide 3,000 workers with jobs so they wouldn't starve. It took 14 years to complete in Indian art deco style and the Maharajah who commissioned it moved in in 1943. Not bad. Public works and you end up with a 347 room new house. Part of the palace became a hotel in 1978 and today, 64 suites have been carved out of the palace for our hotel, and the current Maharajah (who still owns the whole thing) has appropriated a twenty-room wing for himself and his extended family. The main rotunda soars 150 feet and is the most magnificent hotel lobby I have ever been in. All marble floors, sandstone carving, just exquisite. The way the palace was designed there was a wing for the men and a wing for the women and the royal family occupied the entire second floor across both wings. On the main floor are two large reception halls, each capable of seating 150 for dinner. Add to that an indoor and outdoor pool, marble squash court, billiard room, and men's trophy room bar---all built for the commissioning Maharajah, along with 26 acres of gardens, and you can understand why we thought a truck had hit us on the highway and this was a wonderful concussion dream.Later we dined on the verandah overlooking the gardens and the city; the interesting part of the meal was the pigeon chaser--a man with a long pole and flag who whisked it at the pigeons to chase them away. It was sort of like the monkey chaser we had in Kenya. After breakfast the next morning, we met our guide and headed out for a morning "safari" ride into the country side. As we drove through the new parts of Jodhpur we were very impressed by the cleanliness of the streets and the lack of people sleeping along the roadside. Our guide said the culture of Jodhpur is to emphasize clean streets and one wonders why this culture couldn't expand across the country. To be fair, when we later went through the old city we saw plenty of litter albeit the crowds were heavy. Out in the country we noticed that the dogs and cows were sort of sitting or standing along the side of the road in anticipation. Our guide said the village people usually bake three extra breads each day--one for the dogs, one for the cows, and one for the man who sweeps the street in front of the house. Have I mentioned the placidity of the cows? Because cows are sacred in India,they are allowed to roam at will, and they do. They are not afraid of traffic, big cities, or anything. Indeed, on the way here we watched four cows casually stroll down the middle of a six-lane highway, followed by an older lady who just let them lead the way. In India Bossy is boss. We stopped in a village to watch a potter and his family at work and could glimpse into their house which was spotless but barren. Then it was off to a farm, going through grazing land that looked right out of South Africa with bleached grasses and Acacia trees. We watched shepherds herding sheep and goats, spotted some gazelles and antelope, and a two-headed snake. At the farm we saw a cow-chip mold as well as the buffalo producers and watched the farmer demonstrate opium smoking. We didn't inhale. At a weavers' co-op, Esta and Jay bought two very beautiful rugs. Then it was time to head into the old city. Hero Honda small motorcycles and tuk-tuks rule the roads here and they all seemed to converge in the old city. The tumult was all the more intense because it was a festival day for a sect that worships a particular god and there was a loud and raucous parade that wound its way through the town. The festival brought out a lot of women and the color intensity of the saris, combined with the colorful wares and fabrics being sold in the markets made for a pretty splendid technicolor show. We sought respite in a warehouse store that sells fabrics and household linens for export to Hermes, Loro Piana, Donna Karan, etc and spent an hour soaking up the bargains. Thoroughly spent, we recharged at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the market and the fort to be visited and had an excellent Indian lunch for$36 for the four of us.Our final excursion of the day was high up a hill in the center of the city to the Mehrangarh Fort, built by the founder of Jodhpur, Rao Jodha, in 1459 and occupied by the Maharajahs until 1953. The fort, as all have been, is both fortress and palace, and this one doesn't disappoint. Carved in sandstone, it features 340 different lattice designs in the sandstone walls, a 24K gold plated ceiling entertainment hall and other homey touches. The fort is still owned by the Maharajah ( he also owns seven other smaller forts and has developed some land near his current palace with million dollar homes for sale ) and the proceeds from the fort's ticket sales and gift shop revenues are being used by him to continue restoration work.The fort's rooms house several exhibits of remnants of the golden age-e.g. a silver elephant seat for the Maharajah which was a gift from the Taj Mahal Maharajah; various sedan chairs in silver, gold and other ornamentation; a series of cradles for the royal babes; an armory, etc. All impressive.From the walls of the Fort we have a grand view of the whole city. The old city is called the blue city because many of the houses are painted a bright blue, and it is for the same reason we saw blue houses in Chefchaouen, Morocco---to repel mosquitos. We did a final bangle bracelet run at the fort's gift shop (helping the restoration, you know) and went back to our palace to collapse. We had our best dinner yet in the hotel's Indian restaurant blending Indian and continental dishes. It's a great time to be in India. Diet Coke is having a 30ml free promotion, and today, March 26th is Republic Day, sort of like our flag day. As we were leaving our hotel to head to Udaipur, our last city stop, we noticed in the hotel courtyard that a small uniformed band and some army men were waiting in anticipation along with some of the hotel staff. We learned that the Maharajah was expected to raise the flag because of the holiday, and we figured if we'd seen Oprah, why not a Maharajah? Unfortunately, the Maharajah was a no show and the hotel manager did a fumbling flag raising, there was the national anthem, and the soldiers didn't do much so we hit the road.Ranakpur-the Jain TempleWhile I'm on the subject of nationalism (as in Republic Day), let me make the point that India was frequently overrun by foreign invaders. India was originally known by another name, but when the Persians invaded centuries ago, they couldn't pronounce it (as I can't) and they named it Hindustan which is how the then local religion came to be known as Hinduism; then, centuries later, Alexander the Great invaded and the Greeks couldn't pronounce Hindustan and renamed the land Indus. Then came the Brits, and the country came into its own as India. Fortunately for us, the Indians didn't do what the Burmese/Myanmarese did, and they've kept it India.This is a longwinded way of getting to the Jain religion and the famous temple we came to visit in Ranakpur. What came to be known as Hinduism around 1000BC followed a practice of animal sacrifice. In 600BC people from the second highest Hindu caste, the warrior caste, rebelled against sacrifice and started the Jain religion which worshipped 24 prophets while still revering the Hindu gods and goddesses. You will recall (of course) that in Khajuraho we had visited a Jain temple where we chatted with a naked Jain monk.Well, the temple today is one of four very sacred temples in the religion, and we can certainly see why. It is the largest temple we've visited (not counting mosques) and the most elaborate. Whereas the hindu temples were relatively small and plain on the inside, this temple is extraordinarily sculpted in white marble. Built over 63 years in the early 15th century, it covers 48,000 square feet and features several sculpted domes and 1,444 marble pillars, each one uniquely carved,and sandstone arches are so delicately carved that it looks like lace. On the outside the design follows the traditional style with conical roofs connoting rising mountains. The temple is in excellent condition, and we learned that the wealthy Jains were able to bribe invading mughals to leave it alone. Set at the foothills of the Aravala mountains, amidst palm and eucalyptustrees with monkeys scampering about, the temple has a quiet serenity about it, and the fact that tourists are barred until noon allows the naked monks and the observant to pray in peace.From there we headed over the Aravala mountains which are among the oldest in the world and look a bit like a Chinese landscape painting. We've gone from dry, desert-like land onto a more fertile plateau with small wheat and mustard farms where the customs haven't changed in centuries. We saw bulls being led to turn mills to mash sesame seeds into oil and other bulls turning wheels that brought pails of water on an oval track up from a well to feed irrigation ditches, a practice brought to the region by Persian invaders. Finally, eight hours after we left Jodhpur, we arrived in Udaipur. Incidentally, cities that end in "pur" were founded by Hindus, and cities that end in "bad" were founded by muslims. UdaipurThe last city of our Indian adventure is, on first blush, the cleanest and most serene. Founded in 1559, Udaipur is ringed by mountains ( natural protection from invaders) and features three very large, centuries old,artificial lakes linked by canals. It's our smallest city--only 500,000 and is both a resort city and a center for mining very special green marble as well as zinc. Our hotel, the Oberoi Udaivilas, sits on one of the lakes, and we have an excellent view across the lake of the City and Lake palaces. The hotel is a beautiful sprawling building featuring gold-gilt, blue, and reflective decorated domes inside with 50 acres of gardens, fountains, and water sluices around. Our very nice room fronts on a continuous pool that stretches the full length of the hotel. Since it's unheated, I doubt I'll be doing laps. We had an excellent dinner out on the terrace overlooking the lake and with no wind, charcoal braziers, and gas lamps we were close to hot. The only fly in the ointment was the two-man orchestra which banged drums and chanted loudly atonal rhythms which were jarring to the ears and the serene setting. Service in these hotels has been exemplary. For example, before we travel, Joyce Ackerman, our travel agent always alerts the hotels that Betsey is allergic to feathers so our bedding can be without feathers. More often than not when we get to a hotel, frequently late at night, the instructions have not been followed. On this trip not only has every hotel room been ready as ordered, but here, last night, the restaurant manager told Betsey that the cushions in the restaurant had feathers and did she want hers changed. Apparently the entire staff had been alerted to the feathers as well as her food allergies. We later chatted with the Swiss general manager who runs a tight ship.Next morning we set out to Nagda, the original capital of this area founded in 734AD. There we visited a temple group dedicated to the Hindu god Vishnu dating from the 10th century which included some of the erotic sculptures we had seen in Khajuraho built around the same time. We went into the town where a group of 108 temples built in the 15th century are actively being used, and in the main temple musicians were playing and singing chants that sounded suspiciously like our dinner music last night. Back in the city I observed that India has reserved its architectural beauty and design for its palaces, forts, and grand hotels. The cities, towns, and villages are an architectural disaster, even if clean, and are further impugned, I must admit, by the most heinous advertising and store signs. Even here in Udaipur which is the prettiest city we've visited, the beauty comes from the lakes and the mountains not from anything man made. We visited the City Palace, and this being the last palace of our trip, I can say it is our least favorite. Built over 300 years by 22 kings beginning in 1559, the palace is a hodgepodge of rooms and styles. Unlike others, there are no grand audience rooms and to get from one section to another one has to snake one's way up and down and through very narrow hallways and passages, many lined with old white bathroom tiles. Ugh. There are a few rooms of note, including the honeymoon room which is all covered with glass tiles on the walls and floor and a small audience room with nicely turned zinc grill work. Udaipur is known for its miniature paintings and the palace has a very good collection of these. All in all this, palace looks best at night, lit up and from afar.What was most interesting to me was the entrepreneurial spirit of the Maharana. Yes, not Maharajah ("great king") but Maharana ("great warrior") because this royal line never was defeated by the mughals (including Akbar, apparently not so the great) and fought them to a truce over an 88 year period. The truce terms were that the King did not have to marry his daughters to the mughals, and the king did not have to appear at the mughal court. The present day Maharana has turned the City Palace into two hotels, in addition to the public rooms we visited, and he has about a 40-room section of the palace to himself. His Lake Palace which sits nearby in the middle of the lake between the City Palace and our hotel has been rented to the Taj hotel chain for 99 years. He owns an island in the lake which he rents out as well. What's more, anyone can rent the public rooms and courtyards of the palace or the whole island for weddings or receptions. Now Udaipur is the wedding capital of India, and wealthy Indians charter jets to bring wedding guests here for a big extravaganza. A big extravaganza wedding in India usually means at least 400 people up to 1,0000. When we visited the palace, they were setting up for a wedding weekend which would feature Bollywood stars performing on a stage that would be the envy of any rock star, plus tinsel strewn canopies for the guests.We enjoyed a very relaxed lunch at an outdoor restaurant overlooking the lake that was really good and cost us $20. Since this is the home of miniature paintings, of course we had to visit a painting studio. The art was well done, and we did a little damage. Our last stop was to the Girlfriends Gardens, a 2 1/2 acre formal garden created by a Maharana for his daughter and her friends in 1734. It features five distinctly different fountains, each one having special meaning. Finally, it was back to our hotel to relax on our private terrace overlooking the pool where I am as I speak, so to speak.That night we had a special opportunity. The travel company had arranged for us to have dinner in the private home of one of their managers who happens to be first cousin to the current Maharana. Mahipal Singh was a charming man in his mid-forties, and his wife, also of a royal family, was sweet and delightful fun. They live in what we would describe as a modest flat, part of a multi-flat building that he owns. His parents live upstairs and his brother is next door. Every day he and his wife eat with his parents for breakfast and dinner and his brother eats with his parents for lunch. Close family.We talked about a lot of things, particularly marriage and their own wedding. They had an arranged marriage but he had seen a photo of his wife and they met for one day for a formal engagement ceremony; then didn't see or talk to each other until their wedding day months later. We saw their wedding album and their celebration went on for five days and included the Maharana in the festivities. They now have a 21 year old daughter who is in college, and her mother is already entertaining marriage proposals for her arranged marriage from other families. They also have a 16 year old son who is in boarding school in Khajuraho.The meal itself started out a bit shaky with appetizers. The wife had made everything herself, and she first served a flatbread of sorts that was very spicy, and we feared for Esta. Then she served liver which we all felt was a bit strange. When we sat down for dinner the first course was soup......tomato soup. Those who know me know how I feel about tomatoes. Well, I was a good sport, took the bullet, and ate half of the bowl. The rest of the dinner was fine--a very good eggplant spread, potatoes, peas and cauliflower, beans, and a chicken dish. Dessert was a fried sugar and dough concoction. The wife wouldn't sit down and eat with us, insisting that she help serve and supervise the Nepalese boy who was serving. All in all, an interesting change of pace for us. When we returned to our hotel, fireworks were ablaze over the lake, and it turned out to be part of another wedding celebration.Our last full day in India was another beauty and started out with a boat ride on the lake that is between our hotel and the City Palace. This lake is ringed with the houses of the nobles, now converted to hotels, and dotted with temples. We were riding in one of the Maharana's boats, and while there are other boats for rent, only the Maharana's can go to Jag Mandir island which, the Maharana, of course owns. There is a royal guest house on this island where the Maharajah who built the Taj Mahal took refuge after he unsuccessfully tried to overthrow his father. Recall that this Maharajah when he ruled was overthrown by his son (what comes around....). We landed on the island which had hosted a big wedding the night before (another source of Maharana income) and the decor for this wedding had been even more grandiose than the wedding set up we had seen at the Palace yesterday.When we returned to the hotel we decided to take advantage of an offer to view what they described as a wild life conservancy on the property. We were so glad we did because what we saw was an 18th century hunting lodge complete with the wizened and whiskered 81 year-old proprietor. It seems this gentleman had been the caretaker for forty years of these hunting grounds of the Maharana. The Maharana used to stop here on his way from the high hill-top Monsoon Palace (now owned by the government) to the City Palace to rest, hunt, and watch fights between wild boars and tigers that were staged in pens adjoining the lodge. Ultimately, in gratitude, the present Maharana's grandfather gifted the property to the caretaker. He sold most of the land to the Oberoi group in 2000 for our hotel, but he lives in some rooms of the lodge and proudly shows off other rooms which are beautifully painted with scenes of the palaces and hunting grounds done 150 years ago. He was very charming and loved showing us the place and telling us what went on when he was caretaker. Oh, we got to see a herd of spotted deer and eagles as well.We did a final turn at the hotel shop at which Betsey bought a beauty of a necklace and then headed for lunch where the "Bests & Worsts" process began. The afternoon was devoted to selfish indulgence. Esta and Jay relaxed on their private terrace and went to the gym. Betsey and I relaxed and then had excellent spa treatments. Dinner again was on the terrace and the grand finale was another wedding-induced burst of fireworks. Tomorrow we laze around in the morning and then after lunch take a flight to Delhi, lay over four hours, and then board a non-stop Continental flight home, due to arrive at 4:30 am on Monday, January 30th.Summing UpThinking about India, I think about a country of contrasts: the rich and the very, very poor; the bright colors of the saris and the dull drabness of the urban landscapes; the respect for the cow and the neglect of the helpless; the beauty of the palaces and shrines and the squalor of everywhere else. I could go on. It's a fascinating country, and as Betsey actually said: "it grows on you." My final thought is about the future. My biggest question is whether democracy is strong enough to overcome the tremendous odds against this country and bring its people up to a reasonable standard. Think about India, governed by democracy, and China, a dictatorship. Both have pervasive corruption and huge people resources, but China, which we visited in May, seems light years ahead. Modern highways, bullet trains, skyscrapers, etc. India may be different in the south but we saw miserable infrastructure, the worst poverty we've ever seen, and crumbling cities. One wonders if democracy is up to the task in India. I certainly hope so. A lot of people are counting on it.

India- 1/10-1/30/12--Part 2

2012-01-21T12:53:00.002-05:00

India-1/10-30/2012--Part 2The guide who picked us up the next morning for the 3 1/2 hour drive to Orchha said when we go on the road we need to have a good horn, good brakes, and good luck. He should have added, nerves of steel. We took a "national highway" which essentially was a lane and a half wide and mostly filled with pot holes. But that was the least of it. The national sport seems to be chicken because that's what the drivers play with harrowing effect. Add to that wandering cows, goats, and buffalo, weaving bicycles, rigs with two buffalos pulling carts, and buses, big trucks filled to the brim, and tuk-tuks for two but more often carrying 8-12 adults and children in, on and hanging, and you can see what a fun ride it was. Our driver was aggressive but skilled, and we soon grew used to blaring horns and the rush of oncoming buses chickening out just before they would have hit us. We did see one big truck that had lost the game and ended up head first into a tree.We drove through many poor villages and small towns. There is no running water here so we see lots of people at the wells along the side of the road, filling water jugs, doing laundry or bathing themselves. It seems that the women do most of the work and the men sit around. We are told that on the farms both the men and women work the fields, but we see no conclusive evidence of the men working. Judging from the cities we've already visited, it's hard to believe that 72% of the population is rural, but because more than 60% of the economy is agriculture, it's credible. We pass lush green fields of new wheat which is the largest Indian crop, followed by rice and lentils. Another major industry seems to be cow dung chips. We passed many stalls selling fat, frisbee shaped discs of dung stacked very neatly in rows or in a stack which are sold for cooking fuel. This seems a perfect next career step for our friend Norman. You may wonder why so many (african) buffalos? Buffalos give more milk than dairy cows.We stopped for lunch and then reached Orchha. The reason for our visit is to see two large "palaces." The first dates from the 16th century, is large and features frescos and wall painting from the period. The rooms are grouped around a central courtyard and this was the residence of the maharaja. The second palace which was much larger and built in the following century was the administrative headquarters for the region. It features elements from Hindu and Islamic architecture. This leads me to a digression. Muslims have been in India for centuries, and even today still represent 13% of the population, with Hindus representing 80%. Apparently, they get along very well, so you wonder why, if the Muslims and Hindus can get along together in India, they have to battle as the countries- India and Pakistan.After a brief walking tour of the town, we headed for Jhansi a large city nearby to catch our train for Agra. Now, taking a train in India is an enlightening experience. It started when our porter balanced our two large suitcases on top of his head and led us through the dirty, crowded station. We already knew our train was going to be an hour late, and we had delayed our arrival; however, even so, we stood on the cold outdoor platform for an hour waiting for the train that was ultimately two hours late. The platform was mobbed with many people sitting on the cold floor. Some spread out a cloth and ate dinner sitting there. Others slept. We watched another train come in packed to the roof. People on the platform didn't wait for those on the train to disembark. They just charged on to get a seat and a great shoving match ensued. We even watched one man hand his child through a window to someone inside. Fortunately, we were traveling first class and had reserved seats on a train that resembled the very old New Haven line cars. Our porters pushed their way on board with our bags and left. Later as we stopped at another station, young boys on the platform came up to our window and just stared and stared at us. We felt we were on exhibit, and obviously they found looking at westerners amusing. We arrived in Agra 2 1/2 hours later having spotted only two cockroaches in our train car.Agra and the Taj MahalWhat confronted us in Agra was very cold weather and dense fog. We slowly made our way to the hotel, worried about two things--would there be fog at dawn when we were supposed to see the Taj Mahal for the first time and would Oprah Winfrey get in our way. By way of explanation, we had read earlier in the week that Oprah was in India and would be shooting at the Taj the day we were supposed to go there. Our guide told us not to worry about Oprah, they wouldn't close the Taj for the day, but it made no sense to go at dawn because the fog would be too dense. The good news was we got an extra couple of hours of sleep. We awoke to fog so dense we couldn't see the Taj from the balcony off our room as the brochures had promised. As the four of us got into the elevator for breakfast, we speculated if Oprah would be able to shoot that day or try to do it on Friday when the Taj is closed to the public. I said that if Oprah were in Agra she would be at this hotel. A voice from the back of the crowded elevator said: "are you talking about me?" and as the elevator emptied, there was Oprah! She was very gracious and said they had told her the fog would clear by 3pm; she asked where we were from, and said "yeh, Americans" and walked off with her entourage. So who needs the Taj? We had OPRAH!After breakfast we met our guide and did head to the Taj Mahal (it means Crown Palace) even though the fog was still thick as mud. We entered through the main gate which is never seen on postcards but is quite beautiful with 22 small domes on the top signifying 22 years for all the construction. Between 1631-1653 twenty thousand workers and craftsmen built it, sixteen years for the Taj itself and another 6 years for the mosque on one side and the symmetrical guest house on the other, both in red sandstone. The Taj is much larger than we imagined and is built entirely of white India marble which has crystals in it that add luster. Inlaid in intricate designs are tens of thousands of precious and semi-precious stones and black marble. Under the central dome are two crypts to symbolize the tombs of the Queen for whom the Taj was built and the muslim Mughal Emperor who built it. Her crypt is dead center and his to the left with beautiful inlaid designs of precious stones. In the four corners on the platform on which the Taj stands are four tall minaret towers leaning slightly outwards. This area is earthquake prone so the towers are designed to fall outwards to avoid hitting the Taj if an earthquake hits. Smart.Here's the good news. As we walked around and in the Taj, the fog began to clear as the sun burned through, and so, slowly, slowly the magnificence of the Taj was revealed to us and the tones of its marble began to change. At certain angles you can see the jewels sparkle. It became more and more beautiful as the sun shone and the clear blue sky became the back drop. I don't know what looking at the Taj at sunrise is like, but seeing it emerge from the fog was damn special. So here's some history. Shah Jahan, the fifth Mughal Emperor, deeply loved his wife who bore him 14 children before dying (can you blame her?); but before she died she asked him to build a tomb for her that expressed their love. And so he did. Once the Taj was completed it is said that the Emperor never got over his loss and wanted to build a black Taj for his tomb to demonstrate his sadness. His third son, thinking his father's perpetual mourning (this is more than 15 years later) and extravagant spending on the white Taj and his plans for a black Taj proved he had gone mad, had him put under house arrest in the Agra Fort with a perfect view of the Taj where he died about forty years after his wife. And so that is why it is said that the Taj Mahal is a temple of love.We went back later in the day towards sunset to admire the Taj at that hour when it takes on a slightly yellowish cast and then did get to view it from our room as well. Let me say that all of us felt that in any light, the Taj Mahal is the most beautiful, elegant building in the world, bar none. This day alone is worth the trip.But we did more. After leaving the Taj in the morning, we headed to a marble store where supposedly the descendants of the same families that did the inlay work at the Taj are working today. They demonstrated the painstaking way the cuts are made and polished, and of course we did make a purchase--in this case a marble elephant with inlay of stones. It's actually quite beautiful and elephants bring luck, health,and prosperity. We have been buying elephants all through this trip.Back to history, we headed to the Agra fort, built by Shah Jahan's grandfather, Akbar the Great in the early 16th century. He is called "the Great" because he was very tolerant of all religions, especially because he had three wives--a muslim, a hindu, and a christian. Of course he also had 500 in his harem so maybe that's really why they called him great. At any rate his fort is 1 1/2 times larger than the Red Fort in Delhi which Shah Jahan built, but there are a lot of similarities in the design and the red sandstone materials. Surrounding the fort is a moat that would have been filled with crocodiles, and then another enclosed ring where tigers and other wild animals were kept, and finally the outer walls where the soldiers stood guard. Triple protection. Inside the walls were several small palaces (really suites of rooms) where the royal family lived, worked, and held court, plus barracks for the armies. It was here that Shah Jahan was put under house arrest (in a quite beautiful small marble palace) by his son, who by the way, killed his two other brothers and rivals in war for control of India.After lunch, we visited a private museum and jewelry shop where Betsey and Esta got to try on an emerald necklace from the Queen of the Taj Mahal and we saw some really exquisite embroidered wall hangings encrusted with precious stones. Each one was pretty breathtaking. No purchases were made. We then went back to the Taj in a horse and buggy for our final close-up look and back to the hotel where Oprah was sitting on the verandah below our room recording an interview. She is quite a warm, lovely woman. We had dinner in the hotel's Indian restaurant with a couple we had met along the way which was good but verrrrrry slow. Next morning, regrettably, we checked out of our hotel, the Oberoi Amarvilas, which was really magnificent with a whole series of fountains to welcome you,lots of marble and huge Venetian glass chandeliers in the public rooms and lush gardens. But onward. This morning the fog was even denser than yesterday, and they said it might not clear all day. How lucky we were to see the Taj when it could be seen. On the other hand it made driving somewhat snarky. As we drove through Agra, a city of 2 million, we watched vendors setting up their vegetables and crouch in the street around fires to keep warm. The road ahead was opaque. Can you imagine playing chicken in pea soup? Fortunately, our driver was very conservative and the road eventually became an actual well-paved divided highway. A wonder to us.Sikri and the Alwar regionAbout 25 miles outside the city we stopped in Sikri. To understand why, we have to go back to Akbar the Great. It seems his three wives had not given him any children. In desperation to conceive an heir, Akbar consulted a learned priest in Sikri who said a special prayer for this, and lo and behold,Akbar's hindu wife finally produced an heir. In gratitude, Akbar decided to move his capital from Agra (where he had recently lavished construction funds on Agra Fort) to Sikri. So from 1570-1582 he built a huge complex of fort and palace in Sikri. When we arrive there it is numbingly cold and the fog had become even denser. We quickly toured what must have been a pretty impressive array of buildings had we seen it in the sunshine. What we did manage to see well were intricate carvings in the Muslim wife's palace; the remnants of wall paintings in the christian wife's palace, and a combination of the two in the hindu wife's palace. She got both because she liked both, and after all, she produced the heir. In a large courtyard we saw a grid that was for Parcheesi. The Emperor stood on a platform in the center and women dressed in red or white served as the "pieces" in the game with the Emperor calling the shots. Now the upshot of this twelve-year construction saga is that the Emperor should have had the water tested before he built. Turns out the water wasn't potable or ample enough for the whole entourage and army that attended the Emperor, and so after just four years, the capital was moved back to Agra and the Emperor gave the complex to the Priest.As we approached this site as well as others since we've been in India there have been the inevitable hawkers coming after us. They always ask where we are from ,and when we say, USA, more often than not they say "Obama, Obama." They all seem to love Obama and sometimes say something like "better than Bush." I am sure my conservative friends will say that proves Obama is a muslim or maybe a hindu.But again, I digress. We then drove about 3 1/2 hours into the state of Rajasthan across a broad steppe towards two large mesas in the distance. The steppe was pretty arid as we are near desert here, but the road is relatively good as long as you watch out for the roaming buffalos and camel carts. We passed the brick-making district where out in the fields many narrow tall pyramid-shaped chimneys baked the bricks, and camels hauled stacks of the them away. Farther on we passed sandstone and marble carving districts where men sat near the road grinding and polishing. The occasional small village looked pretty much the same-- small concrete or mud-packed huts with thatch roofs and open fronts; lots of people milling around or using the wells, litter everywhere. A highlight of the road was watching jeep-size vehicles driving by with 8-10 people sitting on the roof and an equal or greater number in the car. Gradually the road rose towards the mesas and deep between them until we finally reached Amanbagh (peace garden), our hotel for the next two nights. Betsey and I are very partial to Aman hotels because they are usually architecturally exquisite and appropriate to the region and have impeccable, personal service. What we see is, indeed a peace garden with tall palm and eucalyptus trees that will be very welcome for a respite from the cacophony that is India. There are 40 suites and pool pavilions and we have our own small pool and a beautiful understated pavilion to ourselves. In fact, we seem to have almost the whole hotel to ourselves with few other guests in residence. First order of business was massages for all of us, and I can tell you it really felt very, very good. We had a very excellent dinner with fresh organic vegetables grown at the hotel.What a profane pleasure it was to sleep in until 9am the next morning (Feinsods, as usual, were up earlier) and then enjoy a delicious western breakfast on the terrace. This is our best weather day so far--cool, but clear and sunny. Fully relaxed we boarded a safari-style jeep for a half hour ride to the "haunted city." Built in the mid-16th century, Bhangarh, was ruled by the hindu brother-in-law of Akbar the Great. Legend has it that an evil court magician kept trying to seduce the Queen, and when he was rebuffed and ultimately about to be killed, he put a curse on the city, and all the people fled within 24 hours. Whatever the truth is, the city at some point was abandoned and a forest grew up around it. It was discovered in 1951 and archeologists have been restoring it ever since.As we drove through villages towards the site, children along the way waved and yelled to us. At the site, we were the only westerners among hundreds of mostly high school students on a field trip, and the students all wanted to take our pictures (just as in China). So we were the specimens on display. The haunted city reminds us of Pompei or Delos in Greece because you can discern the neighborhoods and uses for the various buildings. We walked along a main street of ancient shops, a brothel, and saw some gems of hindu temples. About half of a large palace sits high on the banks of the hill. The place is very clean except for the monkey, cow, and goat doo that's pervasive. There are scores of frisky monkeys frolicking along. After our tour, our guide from the hotel led us to the side of a hindu temple where mats and cushions and low tables were set up for us for a private picnic lunch--all vegetarian in deference to the temple site. We enjoyed (even I) excellent chick pea and lentil salads, a rice dish and two other burrito type things which were a bit spicy but tasty. While we ate, we watched the village women gathering firewood in the hills and putting bundles on their heads to take home. It's remarkable what the men get away with in India. Most of the time we see the men drinking tea, playing cards or just hanging out.Our afternoon excursion was a safari jeep ride through a lush valley of wheat (growing well for March harvest), mustard (the oil is used for cooking), and tobacco. During the monsoon, most of the valley is covered with water which enriches the soil for the next planting season. We drove past the Ajabgarh fort, built in 1635, which is remarkably well preserved and looks very much like a turreted european medieval fort. The residents of this valley seem much more prosperous than any other villagers we've seen with cement or stone houses (with cooking huts outside to avoid the wood fires inside) and even one satellite dish was spotted. The buffaloes look prosperous here too. We stopped at a government school (up to 8th grade) where the children were rehearsing for a national day program and gifted the teacher with 50 pencils for the children. As we drove around all the children (and some adults) waved to us yelling, "bye, bye" and we felt like the royal family taking honors. Our last dinner here was special. The four of us had our own table alone outside on the roof under a dome. Because it had gotten very cold, we were surrounded by charcoal braziers which every once in a while threw up a geyser of sparks which looked both pretty and dangerous. We ate a traditional Indian meal which was quite tasty. Amanbagh has been very heedful of our allergies and food fetishes, so I had nothing with tomato. However, the amuse bouche they brought for us had a small vegetable muffin sitting on a bed of tomato sauce for everyone but me. Mine was sitting on a bed of raspberry sauce. Those who know me well will get the irony of that. We alternated being very cold or having our elbows start to burn, but we got through the dinner fine and quickly made an exit to the warmth of our rooms and the bed warmed by a hot water bottle.Tomorrow, we begin the last leg of our tour with visits to "the purs"- Jaipur, Jodhpur, and Udaipur-- all in Rajasthan.

India- 1/10-1/30/12---Part 1

2012-01-17T07:29:00.001-05:00

INDIA-JANUARY 10-30, 2012---PART 1-Delhi, Varanasi, KhajurahoAfter a fifteen year hiatus, Betsey and Arty are headed back to India. We had been to Mumbai on business, and Betsey, in particular, was put off by the enormous poverty that surrounded her. We had seen poverty in many places, but Mumbai seemed to have it oozing out of every pore. Nevertheless. fifteen years had passed, India is of growing power and importance in the world with the second largest population, and I wanted to explore northern India which I presumed would be an improvement. After a lot of persuading I not only recruited Betsey, but our peripatetic fellow travelers, Esta and Jay Feinsod, signed on as well. So off we went to Delhi, via a transfer in Frankfurt and a flight over Afghanistan and Pakistan. We arrived at 2:30am (India is 10.5 hours ahead of NY which is bizarre) and got to bed in our very elegant Leela Kempinski hotel room at 5am. Yawn!With the help of sleeping pills we didn't wake up until 11:30. After lunch we met Sanjay,our guide, and headed into Delhi. Our hotel is in New Delhi which features wide tree-lined boulevards ( surprisingly groomed and relatively clean) with many traffic circles and lots of government buildings and embassies. There is busy traffic but nothing like we recall of Mumbai. In this Hindu nation our first stop was the largest Muslim mosque in India. Shoes off and the ladies had to don brightly colored robes which frankly didn't make them look more modest. The mosque incorporates Moslem and Hindu architectural elements. We visited the tomb of Emperor Humayun, which was the inspiration for the Taj Mahal, built by Humayun's great grandson. It gave us a rose-colored sandstone idea of what lies in store for us at the Taj. Our final stop of the day was to a Sikh temple where we again shed our shoes, and this time all of us had to don head coverings. I should have brought a yarmulke. We had an early Indian dinner at the hotel restaurant which was flavorful albeit a bit spicy for Esta. What did I say about not that much traffic? The next morning we discovered that it's rush hour all day long. And it's not silent. The roads are filled with cars, buses, scooters, tuk-tuks (scooters with a back seat for two but we also saw about ten Indians in one at one point) and bicycle rickshaws, and everyone feels they must make their presence felt by honking their horns. And for every vehicle it seems like there are twenty people, mostly men, actually, on the streets, on the sidewalks, hanging out in front of the shops, begging, cooking on the side of the road, bathing on the side of the road, shaving, urinating,you name it (well we didn't see that). So many people you wonder what they are all doing. In our hotel, for example, there is a huge staff, all hanging on your every word to fulfill your requests with a smile. And our van....we have a nine passenger van at our disposal which comes not only with our guide and driver but also with a helper for the driver who opens the door for us and serves us snacks. But I digress. The sights and history. We started our day at the Red Fort, made of-you guessed it--native red sandstone. It's huge, dates from the 15th century, and was built by the Muslim Moghul emperor who built the Taj. It took seven years to build with the help of 10,000 men and 3,000 camels. It is from there that independence from the British was declared on 8/15/47 and from which the Prime Minister speaks each Independence day. Inside are marble harems and the Emperor's small palace, a mosque, as well as British regimental buildings from the British occupation. This is in Old Delhi which we then toured by rickshaw which was fortunate because we would have been trampled I fear on foot. We rode in narrow lanes with overhead wires that looked like deranged spaghetti and decrepit buildings covered in soot and sweat. In the shop stalls we passed wholesale sari districts, jewelry, and sundries stalls which were about the only colorful things around. Betsey and I thought this is what old Asia is all about. It reminded us of Hanoi and Jakarta fifteen years ago. Frankly happy to be back in the van,we made our way to the memorial to Gandhi, father of Indian independence. It's the location where Gandhi was cremated and is a plain black marble slab covered in marigolds and surrounded by gardens. Serene and simple it befits this simple man and the father of non-violent revolution Unfortunately, this non-violent man was assassinated by a Hindu upset that Gandhi had allowed muslims to stay in India after the separation to form Pakistan. Not too far away is the large India gate which commemorates the 20,000 Indians who died in World War I, helping defend their British masters.By now it was definitely time for lunch at a touristy (but safe) Indian restaurant. I was the only one to eat authentic as my traveling companions opted for western fare. We finished our sightseeing day by visiting Qutab Minac, a large compound of what once were Hindu temples. The Muslim invasion in the 12th century led to the destruction of the temples but the stone from the Hindu temples was used to build India's first mosque and a huge minaret which to us resembled Cambodian style architecture. Finally, we ended up in a large Kashmiri government store filled with elephant statues and pashminas, etc. The ladies did some damage. It became late, and we were too spent to use our reservation at a restaurant a half hour from our hotel, so we opted to eat at the hotel. A long but interesting day.VaranasiSaturday, January 14th started out as a calm day. We took a one-hour flight to the holy city of Varanasi which is alleged to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. Believe me, it looks it, but I don't want to get ahead of myself. Driving in from the city, the sky was filled with kites celebrating a harvest festival. We stopped at our hotel, the Nadesar Palace, which is the former guest house of the Maharaja of Benaras. It has only ten rooms and in ours, the Shah of Iran once stayed. The house is surrounded by 40 acres of gardens on the city's edge, demonstrating the Maharaja's good sense. But that's for later. Right then we headed to Sarnath, about seven miles outside the city. Sarnath is revered in Buddhism as the site where Buddha gave his first sermon. Let me digress a bit to mention that in India, Buddhism is seen as a branch of Hinduism whereas in other Buddhist countries like Burma or China, Buddhism is considered a separate religion. Here in Sarnath they all come together to meditate at the sermon site. It is surrounded by the ruins of Hindu temples which were destroyed by the invading Muslims. However, a huge, solid Stupa ( a shrine to the Hindu gods) remains intact. It wasn't destroyed because Stupas are solid mass of stone and don't contain relics or alters as the Hindu temples do so there was nothing for the Muslims to pillage. It was a serene place to visit with groups of Buddhist monks in their red and saffron robes leading prayers and meditations. We visited the nearby museum where relics from the temples can be viewed.Then we headed into the city proper, and all hell broke loose. Words cannot describe the scene, but I will do my best. This is a city that died long ago but no one put it out of its misery. Its buildings are decayed and dilapidated and covered in such grime you can barely tell their color. Wires dangle and tangle and there is no such thing as a sidewalk, only hard-packed dirt which you can barely see because every inch of ground is covered by people or wares for sale. The roads are filled with pot holes. This is a city of bikes, tuk tuks, scooters, rickshaws and, rarely, a car, usually carrying tourists. The noise from the horns and beeps and people bellowing is so cacophonous as to be almost melodic. The streets are covered with litter and garbage and manure because cows of all shapes and sizes roam freely through the streets. This is a city of 3 million and there isn't one traffic light. Total chaos. Among this chaos is every variety of human being you can imagine, all covered in dust and grime. They are either selling, buying, or begging, or cooking, lighting fires to keep warm, urinating, or worse yet, sleeping in the street (not on the side) as scooters whiz by missing them by inches. Despite all this ugliness, we all felt a palpable sense of excitement and energy from the scene. Rather than being repulsed by it, we were drawn in further.As we walked through the streets, we headed to the famous, sacred Ganges river to watch the evening's rituals. This river is seen as the lifeblood of the people; they drink it, bathe in it, it irrigates their land, and provides transportation. Yet it contains 3,000 times the fecal matter that is considered safe. Egads! We very carefully boarded a large row boat and headed down river a bit to watch the evening's cremations. On the river bank are several large fires where bodies are burning on pyres. First, the male mourners (no women allowed) carry the body to the Ganges wrapped in a shroud. They immerse the body and then it is put on the pyre and the chief mourner lights the flame. It takes about three hours to completely burn the body and some bones (like the hips) are actually thrown into the river. One barely missed us. Scores are cremated each day, and 24 hours a day it goes on. Strangely, viewing it from a distance from the safety of the boat, it had a lot of beauty to it. We topped off the evening by heading back to the main landing (called a ghat, which consists of stairs down to the water ( there are 86 of these ghats along the river) to watch the ceremony that is conducted nightly to thank the gods for the Ganges. We, along with at least five thousand others, watched seven priests on seven platforms chant, ring bells, and play with fire for about a half hour and then we headed home, walking back through row after row of beggars of all ages and shapes. The little children were the most heartbreaking, but you don't dare give any one a coin because you are instantly surrounded by a mob. Exhausted, we returned to our hotel for a traditional Indian barbecue which certainly wasn't burgers and franks.We were up before dawn to experience the other major ritual on the Ganges--bathing and saying daily prayers in the water as the sun rises. This happened to be a festival day so there were even more people heading to the river as we walked through the town. The streets were as chaotic and dirty as the day before. We boarded the same rowboat to watch the spectacle. There were tens of thousands of people along the banks of the river, and the men stripped down to their undershorts and the women stayed in their saris as they walked into the water, immersed themselves, said their prayers, and drank the holy Ganges water. Ugh! It's remarkable how much faith these people have despite their wretched condition. The saris created an unforgettable tableau of vivid colors against a backdrop of faded, dilapidated Moghul palaces on the river banks. The chanting sounds, the colors, the smells, the movement of the crowd, and the monkeys scampering about created a street experience I doubt you'd see anywhere else. Add to that a wondrous sunrise over the river and a few more cremations, and you can imagine why we nearly had sensical overload.From there we made our way through the twisted alleyways of the oldest part of the city. The lanes were barely wide enough for three people abreast and when you add the odd cow and the mob from the festival, the hawkers, and the fact that you can barely look up because if you do, you're likely to step in some cow dung, it was a pretty intense experience. We stopped to look at the Golden Temple (had a gold spire) which non-Hindus can't enter and bought some amulet necklaces, blessed by the temple priests, that are good to prevent heart conditions and bad backs. Betsey was posing for a photo next to a cow when she almost got gored by the cow's horns. It was time to move on.We went back to our hotel for breakfast, and the serenity of the hotel environment was a good tonic. Then we girded our loins to do some further exploring. Our guide took us to Banaras University, where he had studied. It's a high quality public school of about 15,000 students founded in 1916. We visited a large temple which we were allowed to enter, and our guide explained the Hindu rituals. Then it was on to the Durga temple, a bright red painted place and, finally, to the India temple which is a tribute to "mother India" and features a huge relief map of the Indian continent. Gandhi stopped by in 1936. It was time to put religion aside and do some shopping. We visited a silk house and saw some beautiful work being done and did some damage. Then it was on to the bead house where there were thousands of varieties of beads manufactured and available in bulk or as bracelets, necklaces,etc, and we did some more damage. The finale for the day was back at our hotel for a ride in the Maharaja's horse carriage, driven by the son and grandson of the Maharaja's original driver. We toured the estate, and rode past the former lions' den where the Maharaja kept his pet lions. He also had 15 elephants and 20 horses. Now he's down to a couple of peacocks and some ducks. We sipped Champagne and walked through the extensive vegetable gardens which serve the restaurant. We had a quiet dinner at the hotel and packed for our next destination.KhajurahoThe Indians take security very seriously in their legitimate concerns about Pakistani terrorists. All the hotels have had guards at the locked gates, inspections under the vehicles for bombs, and metal detectors at the doors. The major sites have similar security. But sometimes it gets a bit comical. When we landed at one airport, we had to show our boarding passes as we got off the plane. This morning when we went to the airport we were frisked twenty feet after we were frisked the first time. We arrived at sunny and warm Khajuraho mid day and drove on decent two-lane roads to our hotel, the Lalit Temple View. The temples one could view from afar, way afar, are why we are here. This is a world heritage site dating from 950-1050AD with a vast compound of temples built by the Chendela Dynasty and influenced by Tantrism (sex brings you closer to God). A key element is the use of eroticism in the temple motifs, perhaps influenced by the Kama Sutra. So we are here for an intellectual study of sex. But first we spent the afternoon relaxing and reading by the pool. The hotel had a rather pathetic sound & light show but served us a good Indian dinner. Had my first curry on this trip here.Next morning we met our guide and headed to the temple grounds. Originally there were 85 temples and 22 survive. We started in the western temple area where there were originally 13 and with 5 still standing. What survives is awesome. Intricately carved over every surface, these temples to the Hindu gods sit on a high platform and ascend as a series of four spires. They very much have the feel of Cambodian temples we've seen such as Ankor Wat which came about a century later. These are remarkably well preserved because there was little population in the area and a forest grew up around the temples which became covered in black fungus. A British engineer discovered the temples in the 1850's. The largest of the temples used 6,000 stone carvers and took 22 years to complete.The way the sculptures are organized is that on the outside of the temple the carvings depict everyday life which included hunting, music, dancing, wars, and sex. The sex is very explicit and one can admire intercourse in several positions, fellatio, group sex, and sex with horses (they depicted acceptable as well as unacceptable sex). Another section of each temple depicted tantra sex which is pretty much the same thing except ejaculation is forbidden. All of this is on the outer sandstone walls in minute detail and capped by four spires graduated in height. Inside the larger temples are four rooms, culminating in the inner sanctum where a statue of the god being honored sat. The tallest of the temples stands 131 feet high, quite an amazing feat for a 1500 year old edifice, and no mortar was used in construction but rather a lego-type methodology. The carvings are remarkably well preserved. With the temples set in a field of grass and flower gardens the beauty of the temples stands out and is one of the most impressive temple sites we've ever seen, in many respects as impressive as Ankor Wat.We headed back to our hotel through the town with small herds of buffalo, goats, donkeys, strolling to and fro, on the street and in the fields. It's a poor town but rural poor- basic farming and small trades and the tourism provides sufficient income to provide a simple life. We had a very good buffet lunch and then set out to see the other temple fields. The most interesting were some small Jain temples. Jain is a religion practiced only in India. It has connections to Hinduism but is a separate worship of 24 prophets. The temples resemble the Hindu temples we saw in the morning but have fewer spires and no sexual activity, religious or otherwise, is depicted on the outer walls. One branch of Jain is characterized by monks who never wear clothes and carry a duster of peacock feathers which they use to brush the road ahead of them or themselves to avoid killing any living creature like bugs. The monks only walk, never ride, and must pluck their hair on the face and head by hand without scissors of any kind. We actually were introduced to one monk who was sitting in lotus position on a deck on top of a building studying a prayer book. He was quite relaxed as our guide translated a conversation between us. I must say the ladies demonstrated great sang friod during the whole event.We returned to our hotel for some rest and dinner and an early-to-bed night as tomorrow we begin a long journey by car and train to Agra, site of the renowned Taj Mahal.

Morocco-10/16-11/1/11- Part 2

2011-10-31T18:16:00.000-04:00

Morocco- 10/16-11/1/11--Part 2

Heading North
We bid the last of our B&R bikers and guides farewell on Wednesday, October 16th and Betsey, Jay, and I met our driver, Ryad, and hopped into a comfortable Mercedes van for the trip to Fes. It actually was more a saga than a trip since it ultimately took ten hours including a few stops. We got out of Marrakech without much traffic, had a brief stop by police on the road to check our driver's credentials, and then had a bit of trauma when our driver hit and instantly killed a dog on the highway when the dog just ran into the road. Ryad felt terrible, as did we, but we were especially glad that Linda wasn't on the trip, as she had planned to be, since she is the biggest animal lover I know, and it would have been a very sad experience for her. We moved on.

Our fist stop was in Beni Mallal, a cosmopolitan city of 300,000 which was more modern and affluent than we had seen in the south. As we have headed north, the landscape has become more dense with vegetation and the quality of the soil looks much richer as we are in a much more fertile plain. We passed field upon field of Olive and Orange groves, apple orchards and the like. The King has a couple of large estates in the area that are expansive farmlands. Indeed, so far in most cities we've been to the King has a palace or two. We drove to the top of a high vista to enjoy the view below from the restored shell of a Kasbah and then went into town for lunch at a tourist restaurant.

The miles and hours went on and on. We passed through more villages and noticed that the houses here are more likely to be ecru than salmon and larger and more expensive as well. We were driving through the Middle Atlas Mountains but didn't have the switch-back mania of the High Atlas since for the most part we were driving along a high plain, through forests of cedar and silver birch and fertile farmland. We made a rest stop at Ifrane, a winter ski and summer lake resort, and noticed that now all the houses were not only ecru but had peaked red tile roofs to slough off the winter snows. The town looked like a typical ski resort and had many large private homes, many of which we were told were second homes of wealthy Moroccans and Europeans. Enjoyed some patisserie there.

After a vivid red sunset in the mountains, we descended into Fes in the dark and arrived at the Sofitel Palais Jamais hotel. It has seen better days (e.g. no hot water for our much-needed showers) but is fine for us and enjoys what we think will be a spectacular view of the ancient medina (or walled city) when we see it in the daylight. We headed out quickly to dinner at Maison Blu in the ancient medina. We had cocktails in a three-story atrium lined in bright ceramic tiles and carved plaster and then had a set four-course dinner that went beyond ample. So far the food here in the north seems a bit spicier though the dishes are similar. We had our second couscous here--this one with veal, cinnamon and powdered sugar (go figure). We found it pretty dry and bland whereas the lemon chicken was spicy and tasty. In voting for biggest surprise at last night's farewell dinner, we came up with how good the food was. We will all need starvation diets after this gig.

Fascinating Fes
Bummer. We woke up to heavy rain, but girded our loins and headed out with our guide for the day. Fes was the first Imperial city of Morocco and was settled in 800AD. It is the most complete and preserved medieval city in the Arab world. While it is a thriving city of 1.7 million today, the original medina (walled city) remains and the "new" outer medina dates to the 1300's. Then there is the French city built by the occupiers beginning in 1912, and the fourth city, has absorbed new growth since the French left in 1956. Fes enjoyed a great period of enlightenment in the 1300's which attracted many Jews from Spain who were also fleeing Spanish oppression at that time. They were welcomed by the Kings of Morocco, and in fact one finds the Jewish quarter in the cities close by the royal palaces because of the Kings' protection. The architecture in the Jewish quarter reflects the Spanish influence as you have many balconies in the Spanish style.

That's where we begin our day in Fes. Opposite the gates of the royal palace is the entrance to the Mellah, the Jewish quarter, the first Jewish settlement in Morocco. What Jews are left in Fes now live in the newer neighborhoods, but we visited the Jewish cemetery which is very well maintained and still used for burials. One of the synagogues has also been preserved, and we visited it as well and saw a 16th century torah scroll.
The Jews, Arabs, and Berbers all lived together in peace in Fes and the city thrived. Would that it were so everywhere today!

We paused at the top of a hill to get a good view of the medina, but the winds blew our umbrellas to a mangled mess, and Betsey and Jay refused to leave the car. We headed for the old medina. To give you some perspective of this medina versus others we and you may have visited, this one has a populations of 340,000 and a souk of more than 10,000 shops. Yes, most are no bigger than a large closet, but imagine a labyrinth where you can find anything from camel heads (true) to fine Fes carpets. Fes is the craft center of Morocco and whole sections of the medina are devoted to the creation of the finest crafts. Fes ceramics are highly valued for their unique clay composition and handiwork; we saw the whole process of production, and did some damage. We visited a carpet store and learned all about the quality of Fes carpets which are reversible and did some damage. We visited a very fine antique store and did some damage, and we went to a tannery and learned how the skins are prepared. The smell is so bad, looking out from a rooftop at the washing and dye tanks, that they give you mint to smell. Nevertheless, we did some damage. So we were both heavily damaged and exhausted from walking more than five miles through the alleyways, often in pouring rain with occasional roofed cover. The outer walls of the souk buildings are uniformly blank and unadorned, but inside many, you are in for a big surprise.

For example, when we went into the carpet store which was once a private home we were in awe of its beauty. Small rooms, built around a three-story central atrium with beautiful mosaics, topped by carved plaster, topped by carved cedar wood, it stood in stark contrast to the meager exterior. This is an example of the Islamic belief in not flaunting ones wealth with fancy exteriors. We found the same beautiful interior at the antique store, run by a moslem of Jewish ancestry, which also was once used as a synagogue. Even the restaurant where we ate lunch in the medina was impressive on the inside (and very tasty as well) and anonymous on the outside. We walked into another type of building, a Fondouk, which was a hotel of sorts during caravan times. They are built around an open central courtyard and are always three stories-- the first was for the caravan animals, the second for merchandise, and the third for sleeping.

One interesting observation (at least to us) is that the merchants in this souk don't go out of their way to appeal for a sale. There is no hawking at you from the alley; if you are interested, fine; if not, fine. We asked our guide about it, and he said that unlike the souk in Marrakech, this one is really, honestly, for the locals--they not only work in this medina, they live there, and so most of the merchants are catering to their local customers, and the tourists are merely a bonus. Besides, how many westerners want a camel or goat head anyway?

The medina is divided into several sections but each must have five elements--a mosque, a bakery, a fountain, a Koranic school, and a hammam. We saw so many specialties practiced in districts such as the tailor district (all men), wood carving, weaving and fabrics, silk making. So much going on. We visited a Medersa which is a university. This one was where Maimonides taught and we saw the walls of a library with 30,000 volumes. Fes gave the world astronomy and medicine, for example, so we owe a lot to Fes!

For dinner we headed back to the old medina to Riad Fes, a Relais Chateaux hotel and restaurant that was so obscurely placed in the medina that a bellman had to meet our taxi to lead us to it. It was worth the search because it was exquisitely restored and yet had a contemporary feel. We checked out a guest room, a small but well done one (Joyce, take note) and enjoyed an excellent dinner with painfully slow service but excellent Moroccan wine.

Roman Ruins and a Rapacious Rajah
The rain and dampness from the previous day did me in and even a Nyquil night couldn't stave off a return of a nasty head cold. This is a good place to mention Moroccan tea which I have been consuming in large quantities. It is served in small glasses and has a lot of mint leaves in it and is usually pretty sweet unless you tell them otherwise. It's quite good and certainly helpful for colds.

After breakfast, I soldiered on with my compatriots as we headed out of town for a ninety minute drive to Volubilis. This ancient, ruined city of Rome is 2000 years old and was demolished in the 1755 earthquake that struck Lisbon but reverberated along a Moroccan fault line and hit many Moroccan cities. Volubilis, which means Oleander in Latin, sits midst fertile, rolling hills of the Rif mountains and once housed 15,000 Romans. Although primarily a military garrison, it featured many elaborate homes, and the excavations (which began in 1948 and continue today) revealed many extremely well preserved mosaic floors. These are comparable to what Betsey and I saw in Sicily but there are more of them here. The main road is well preserved with its sewer system, as well as the outlines of shops (with "branded" signs for the butcher, the baker, etc) and the pillars of the Roman temple. We had an excellent local guide, and now we can chalk up yet another impressive Roman ruin in our catalog of ruins.

We made a brief stop in the nearby mountain town of Moulay Idris, the site of the tomb of Idriss I, the king who brought Islam to Morocco in the 8th century. The tomb is barred to non-muslims, but a foul-smelling guy urged and led us up hundreds of steps for a "panoramic view" which we finally decided to abandon. We were happy to leave Moulay Idriss. Not wanting another elaborate Moroccan lunch, we half-jokingly suggested to Ryad, our driver, that pizza in Meknes, our next stop would be good. And pizza we had; not too bad, although the ladies were a bit nervous about the environment which looked a bit like a cross between McDonalds and Pizza Hut with Bollywood-style berber music videos.

Meknes, the fourth Imperial city from the 17th century, is especially known for the reign of Moulay Ismail, a formidable king who had 500 concubines and 800 children. Quite a guy! He was also an aggressive King who feared attack and so Meknes is not just a walled city but a three-walled city with triple protection. We visited his storerooms which were immense and the remains of his army's stables which held 12,000 horses. Sort of gives you the scope of things back then.

In Meknes we also visited a jewish cemetery which is in terrible state of disrepair. There are now only 50 Jews living in Meknes, and we met two of them at a small, narrow, depressing synagogue nearby. This was also pretty dismally run-down but the two men did uncover a "gift shop" under a blanketed table. We made a donation instead.

On the way home we stopped in a winery, the largest in Morocco. Meknes has the best wines in the country, started, of course, by the French. We have actually enjoyed the Moroccan wines we've tasted every night. Today, 55 million bottles are produced annually in the country (30 million by this winery) and 90% are consumed here. So much for Islamic abstinence. Actually, I take it as a good sign since it demonstrates the liberal tendencies of Islam in Morocco.

Dinner tonight in Fes was at Maison Blanche, a far cry from the traditional Moroccan fare we've been having all along. A very contemporary, chic place in the new city, the food was continental and presented with great flair. It was also delicious except for the chocolate soufflé which was undercooked and runny.

Peaceful Coexistence
Next morning we awoke to bright sunshine and comfortable temperatures so of course we were destined for a long drive to our next destination---Chefchaouen. We drove through rolling farmlands in the foothills of the Rif mountains, through villages and towns dotting the landscape with villagers in the fields, in the stalls, and at the weekly market. As we head north the dress of the women changed slightly as they adorned themselves with wide scarves tied around their waists. Added some color.

About 31/2 hours later we came into Chefchaouen, a city founded in the 1400's by arabs and jews emigrating from Andalusia, Spain. The city sits high in the Rif mountains and shines white and blue from a distance. Originally the stone, mud, and plaster houses were tan as in Spain, but supposedly the Jews discovered that shades of blue, mostly pastel, repelled mosquitos, so many of the houses, even today, are white and blue. Do you think the Israeli flag was done that way as a repellent? Whether true or not, the town is very colorful. The jews left in two waves--late 40's and mid 60's--heading to Israel. Our local guide took us all through the town which is highly terraced (think Santorini) and composed of millions of steps. We paused to watch the funeral procession of a young man---only men participate, and they carry the coffin on their shoulders from the home, to the mosque, and to the cemetery chanting all the way. We watched women doing carpet and clothes washing along a stream and just meandered through the whole town. As primitive as this mountain town is, we looked into a couple of rooms where there was loud music or voices and found them full of kids playing video games.

Our hotel, the Atlas, leaves a lot to be desired. Like bar soap, tissues, no heat for the Feinsods,, etc. It reminds me of my hotel in Bucharest in the 90's but without the prostitutes in the lobby. In fact, it's a dump and comparable (to those who read my Greek Islands journal or were there) the Drossis hotel. I will say that the view from the hotel, looking down on the town all blue and white was pretty special. Betsey and I couldn't stand our room in the afternoon so we adjourned to the lobby to play scrabble until we went out to dinner. We went local for dinner (our only option) and had a pleasant enough meal at a local restaurant off the main square that was lively and enjoyable. It's Saturday night in Chefchaouen, so the town is mobbed with people out for the evening.

Up to the sea and into the Capital as we head home
Breakfast reflected the quality of the hotel, and we were soon off. We decided to get to our last stop--Rabat--by way of Tangier and in 2 1/2 hours we were there. It's the most modern city we've seen in Morocco so far and the closest land point to Spain and Europe in Africa--just 10 miles across the Mediterranean at the opening to the Atlantic. It was nice to see water after so many days of desert and mountains. We rode out of the city a bit to see the views, passing many expensive villas and, of course, a palace of the King. After visiting a cave of sorts, we headed back to town for lunch at one of Ryad's favorites. It was a little hole-in-the-wall place, and they served a set menu of fish soup, a spinach and fish dish and then simply grilled catch-of-the-day (baby shark and John Dorry) and all of it was very good and good fun as well.

It took us 2 1/2 hours on highway through the largest forest (oak and cork) in Africa to get to Rabat, the current capital city. Of course, we went past not just one but two palaces ( the King has a total of 27) on the way to our hotel, and were delighted to find soap, tissues, and a lot other nice features at our Sofitel Hotel. It's a polished, contemporary place with elaborate gardens and was very welcome in closing out our stay in Morocco. For dinner we followed Ryad's advice and had one more traditional two-hour four-course Moroccan meal. Not our best, but the setting was very traditional in the Rabat medina. More than full, we took a walk in our hotel gardens before trying to digest in bed.

Rabat Fadil Style
We awoke to a perfectly beautiful day and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast on the hotel terrace before setting out to discover Rabat. I actually had low expectations of this city; not sure why, but little did I know Fadil would bring it alive. Fadil, our local guide, is a smallish man with the loudest and most enthusiastic voice in Morocco. His english was fair but he made up for it with gusto and lots of hand gestures.

Fadil started our day by taking us through the gates of the King's grand palace. Only guides can bring tourists in, and it was fun to actually go behind the walls of one of the 27 palaces. This one was used as a residence by the former King Hassan 2nd and is now the offices of King Mohammed 6th. The grounds and gardens are impeccably manicured by a legion of gardeners and what we can see of the palace walls and arches is impressive. The entire compound not only houses the King's offices (he lives in another palace in Sale, a suburb across the river) but also many government ministries, the horse guards, and a small city of those who work in the compound and live and shop there.

This King, Mohammed 6th, is highly admired by the people. He has been smart. He has undertaken many public works projects, donates one million school uniforms and back packs to school children each year, has brought in a lot of foreign development. He banned polygamy unless the first wife consents (thus ending polygamy) and has offered up modest constitutional changes, all of which have made Morocco one of the calmest Islamic states. We are told that there is no hope for terrorists here because the people serve as the eyes and ears of the King. Sounds good.

Next was the Chellah, a kasbah of the 14th century that actually enclosed a small Roman city, the last in Africa, dating from the 7th century BC as well as two former mosques. Most interesting was the best preserved ancient hammam with walls and roof intact but most of these "ruins" were actually reasonably intact despite the effects of the 1755 earthquake. Several storks' nests adorn the tops of the towers.

It wouldn't be a visit to a Moroccan city with going to a Mellah,the Jewish quarter. Today there are only about ten jewish families still living in the Mellah, but Fadil took us to a remarkably well preserved synagogue that is still used during holidays. Today, there are about 2500 Jews living in greater Rabat, and about 6,000 in all of Morocco. Fadil spoke passionately about how Moroccan arabs, berbers, christians, and jews have all lived well together, and mentioned that the King's finance minister is a Moroccan jew and some of the new real estate development is being done by foreign jews. We speculated whether he was telling us all this because we are jewish and that's also why all of the guides have spoken of jewish culture in the cities we've visited. However, we have decided that this isn't the case; that the jews in Morocco are an important part of the country's history and that all of the guide books devote ample sections to jewish history and that the guides would tell this story whether we were jewish or not.

In my opinion, the most beautiful building we have seen in Morocco and,indeed, one of the most beautiful in the world is the mausoleum of Mohammed V, the King's grandfather, where Hasssan 2nd, the King's father and uncle are also buried. Designed by a Vietnamese architect, this white marble jewel box with green tile roof is delicately sculpted and finished on the inside with onyx, marble, granite, and mahogany. It sits on a pedestal overlooking the 800 year-old unfinished Hassan minaret tower, high on the top of Rabat.

We had lunch (a cheeseburger for me!) in an international restaurant and remarked that Morocco has the highest urinals Jay and I have ever experienced. It's strange because Moroccans aren't unusually tall. I hope they weren't supposed to be sinks!

Anyway, we walked through the medina and several markets to Oudaia kasbah. This is the oldest part of Rabat, dating to the 12th century. Within these walls which tower over the Atlantic ocean are the oldest houses which have now been gentrified and are among the most costly. If you closed your eyes and opened them again you'd think you were in Chefchaouen because the houses are blue and white ( apparently it wasn't only the jews who figured out how to outsmart mosquitoes) and you meander up and down narrow alleys and stairways. The views of the Atlantic were refreshing.

For our last dinner we chose La Villa Mandarine, outside the city in a boutique hotel. The meal was pretty good and the setting was inviting. We did "Bests & Worsts" and concluded this was a very worthy trip. Ryad drove us back to our hotel for the night, and we remarked on how pleasurable he had made our trip. He was always looking out for our wellbeing and was a great traveling partner.

So what is my takeaway about Morocco? Perhaps I am idealistic, but it seems to me this country is on a good course. In all the major cities we have seen construction going on in an economy that is growing. The people seem content and, while seeking improvement, are ready to work with the King so to speak. Tolerance is emphasized. Indeed, every guide and person we spoke to not only exhibited great national pride but also pride in the tolerance of the peoples. The King keeps an eye on the Imams to make sure there is not incitement. In fact, we were told that the Imams receive word from the government each week on what the topic of the weekly sermon should be. I heard a much more benevolent brand of Islam expressed here with many similarities to Judaism and Christianity, and I witnessed a wide range of Islamic expression from modern-dressed women to traditionally dressed women to only a few who covered themselves completely. Most men wear a uniform of jeans while the older men wear traditional dress. If left to themselves, I believe Morocco will evolve to the kind of Islamic country we wish for in the rest of the world.

It's a beautiful, historic, and important country that deserves to be on anyone's list who wants to learn about the past, appreciate a strong culture, and seek optimism for the future.

Morocco-10/16-11/1/11--Part 1-Biking

2011-10-25T20:01:00.002-04:00

We are on the road again. This time to Morocco for a Butterfield & Robinson bike trip plus touring on our own. Traveling with us are Esta & Jay Feinsod, our perennial traveling companions; Jim & Linda Bordas, friends we met in Africa and biked with in Viet Nam; and Joel & Bonnie Glasky, friends we met more than 20 years ago in Antigua who are risking all to travel with us for the first time.

Over the Mountains
Our flight over via Madrid was uneventful, and we arrived in Casablanca to sunshine and warmth. This was a major traveling day as we were headed through the Atlas Mountains to Ouarzazate where we are to begin our bike trip. We knew it was a long day so we skipped Casablanca which we were told to avoid anyway and headed for the mountains. We had no idea what a schlep it turned out to be. Seven hours on a twisted and convoluted mountain road that caused several in our group to require nausea medication. Fortunately, Linda was a pharmacist and never travels without half a CVS along with her. The Atlas Mountains are impressive--Sedona -colored peaks with Berber villages of the same salmon-colored clay dotting the landscape with a sporadic satellite dish here and there. In deference to Jed, virtually every village features a large Coca-Cola logo sign painted on a wall. The only other real color comes from the house doors which are bright hues of blue, green, orange, etc with various geometric designs on them. Occasionally an Oasis appears, and there seems to be subsistence farming and sheep and goat herding as the primary activities. We passed many pottery stands and stopped to learn about the miraculous Argan oil which cures all sins of the body.

Finally, after seven grueling hours and a few green faces we arrived in Ouarzazate about 6:45pm. Joel had the line of the day: "well, we made good time!" Hot showers and a good dinner revived us at our hotel, the Berbere Palace.

Next morning, we and the Feinsods ventured to the old Kasbah. Ouarzazte was on the old trading route centuries ago, and in the 1890's a family established hegemony on access to the mountain passes and built their Kasbah, which is a fortified castle of sorts where the extended family, their servants, and hangers-on all lived. The Pasha or leader of this family eventually sold out to the French who took over Morocco, and the French established a Foreign Legion base here. The French finally gave Morocco its independence in 1956.

We didn't go into this kasbah but a local guide took us through the old adjacent berber village which remains inhabited today. We watched the women doing laundry at the communal well, visited a pharmacy filled with bottles of natural herbs, etc and probably overpaid for a Berber wool carpet that hopefully will reach our shores one day.

Ouarzazate today is a sleepy town of 45,000 but home to several movie studios. It was from here that Lawrence of Arabia and Gladiator were shot and many B movies, using hordes of locals who come alive as extras when there is work to be had. We all ended up at the elaborate hotel pool where we relaxed and munched on pizza and then had dinner at Chez Dimitri, allegedly the best in town, where, of course, Hillary Clinton had also dined.

Sometime in the middle of the night I came down with a roaring head cold. Very annoying. Nonetheless, onward. At breakfast we met the four other bikers on our trip. Steven and Jerri Nagelberg are from LA, he's an orthopedic surgeon (good to have along) and they travel more than we do. Been on many B&R trips. Steve Rogers and Jennifer Bensch are friends who met on B&R Viet Nam trip. He's from London and owns an office equipment company, and she is from NYC--Skadden Arps.

We set off at 9am in Toyota land rovers for about 40 minutes to our jumping off point where we sipped mint tea and had an orientation. From there, you turn left and keep going. No need for directions since there only seems to be one narrow road with few vehicles and mile upon mile of what they call pre-desert. That is, flat dry plains strewn with rocks and boulders and patches of green and celadon-colored plants throughout. We biked through small salmon-colored villages and everywhere the children yell "Bon Jour" and hold out their hands for us to high-five them. Lots of good cheer albeit some of the kids get pretty bold in coming into the street to greet us. Flat became "rolling" hills as we headed into the Atlas foothills and Betsey and several other women elected the van rather that brave the hills. We only did 18 miles before lunch but it was sufficient for most this first day, although Bonnie & Joel and two others chose to bike back to our hotel after lunch. Haven't been seen yet.

The hotel Dar Ahlam is a former kasbah that has been renovated and added on to with the result that we wander through warrens of hallways and passages, nooks and crannies until we arrive at our small but tasteful suite. The grounds are lush with fig, almond, and date trees and a tempting pool. I am off to have a Berber hot massage which turns out to be a warm Argan oil massage. Relaxing and hopefully rehabilitative.
Before dinner we gathered for cocktails and instructions for tomorrow's bike ride and camel excursion into the desert where we will spend the night. We were serenaded by a native African band. I use "serenade" loosely since it was loud, raucous, and got everyone up dancing what looked like a cross between a hora and the polka. A dinner of couscous with lamb and vegetables followed which was quite good.

We had a lesson in politics as well. It seems that the present King, Mohammed VI, is considered liberal and instituted some constitutional reforms when the Middle East started blowing up. He is the head of Islam here as well as the government so the people tend to revere him. He has traveled widely in the country which his father never bothered to do. It seems he wants to keep his head.

Into the Desert
As I write this I am sitting in our tent in the Sahara desert about 9 miles from the Algerian border. How did I get here? Let me start at the beginning of this quite exceptional day. I awoke from a Nyquil night with my cold gone. Amazing. After breakfast we jumped in the land rovers for a 2 1/2 hour ride over winding, hard-packed dirt roads heading towards the Sahara. We drove through long stretches of rock-strewn flatlands with horizontal and diagonally striated mesas of browns, celadons, and taupes. Fascinating what erosion and wind can do. At some point we mounted our bikes and headed south for 19 miles of flat, paved roads and majestic scenery. We rode through some Berber villages and passed herds of sheep and the occasional camel grazing. Farther on, we would spot the tents of nomadic Berbers. Little did we know that we would be sleeping in the upscale equivalent of those tents this night. We stopped for lunch in an oasis and were served chicken, omelets with potatoes, and string beans while sitting on rugs and eating off low tables. We had instruction in proper Moroccan tea making, and those who wanted to could do another 11 mile ride to our jump-off point for the desert. I and five others opted for the ride which was flat, but our confrontation with stiff headwinds made for a challenging finish to the day. We met up with the rest at a small hotel where we could shower and take a dip in the pool before heading to the desert proper.

Thoroughly mellow, we were quickly jolted into hypertension by the 90 minute ride into the desert. It would be fanciful to call it a road as it was essentially tracks in the desert and felt like riding a bucking bronco. It culminated in a mad dash across a dry lake bed at astronomical speed, at least it felt that way as we hung on for dear life. But at last, up ahead, we saw our next mode of transportation or obliteration----camels, dromedaries, one humpers, to be exact.

By the time they gave us local kaftans to wear and got us up on the beasts, the sun had set and we were led into the desert to somehow grope towards the promised land. This was the real Sahara from what we could see of it---sand dunes galore and nothing else. As the sun set and the stars starting coming out, it was really spectacular if you could take your mind off holding on for dear life. Although it was about a forty minute ride to our camp, it seemed to get old pretty quickly; nevertheless, we all remained in good spirits. We trod through the sand in the pitch dark for the last hundred yards to our camp which we could only make out by the ring of candle lanterns that surrounded it. After a quick glass of wine we were taken to our tent which is quite acceptable--spacious with a double bed and a "bathroom" with sink and individual porta-pottie.

We met up the dune for excellent gin & tonics and other cocktails, accompanied by very good goat cheese while a native band did their thing. Dinner was under a spectacular starry roof at one long table with fine china and excellent local fare--a chick pea soup followed by a traditional tangine of veal and vegetables. Tangine refers to the funnel-shaped dish cover that these stew-like concoctions are cooked in for hours and which generally come out quite tasty. A good time was had by all until we were alerted that we would be awakened to savor the sunrise in the Sahara. Off to bed we went while Bonnie and Joel were last heard knocking on tents, trying to find theirs.

Only 15% of the Sahara is the Lawrence-of-Arabia type while the rest is hard-scrabble,rock strewn and peppered with scruffy growth. When we awoke at 6am and looked out our tent, we were,indeed, in the midst of the real thing. It turns out our tents were scattered at the bases of individual sand dunes, and the sand was better than the finest Caribbean beaches. We all met to watch the sunrise at the top of a dune (with fresh coffee for those who partake) and all we could see were dunes and the mountains in the distance. It was pretty stunning. Breakfast followed atop another dune and the only annoyance were the scores of sand flies buzzing around us but fortunately and strangely ignoring the food. We had a traditional breakfast of something that looked and tasted like scallion pancakes without the scallions; crusty bread, and a honey-covered coffee cake in the shape of a big Mallomar. Very tasty. We all elected not to do any biking on the way back since we had a long trip and had covered the road the day before. It was a wise decision since it was five hours of the same challenging roads. We also were spared the camels since the land rovers had parked near our camp. We were very grateful to arrive back in our hotel, have a very good lunch of rice-covered meatballs and chill until our Oasis tour.

Our oasis tour came with drizzle, and I should mention that we actually had a few minutes of rain in the Sahara when we woke up. Pretty remarkable, but on the way out you could see what a little rain could do to green up the meager vegetation there. Back to the tour which was led by Abdessamo, the local liaison to the hotel and a proud Berber. He spoke of the importance of the Berber tribe its culture being the predominant influence, above religion or civil authority, and how important family was. He spoke of the deliberate intermarriage between Berber and Arabs to ensure peaceful coexistence and how interdependent everyone in the village is. Skoura, where our hotel is, once had a solid Jewish population and a synagogue exists there today; however, after the six day war, the Jews were concerned about retaliation and also Israel (according to him) called on the Jews of Morocco to come to settle in Israel and most of them throughout the country did.

Our last dinner here was an elegant affair--white china, white candles and silver ornaments accompanied citrus gazpacho, sea bream, and chocolate lava cake with a chocolate cookie crust and "white" ice cream.

Over the Mountains...Again
We made an early departure from Skoura and headed back over the Atlas Mountains by land rover to reach our bike ride for the day. We stopped outside of Marrakech and began our ride. The day was cool and sunny but the headwinds picked up about half way through and just as we reached the hilly part of the ride. Our luck! Five of us, including Joel and me, went the full distance--18 miles--but the last half was a killer with short downhills and long, steep up hills. The fun part that all of us enjoyed was biking through some towns on market day. Lots of activities going on and all manner of little open-front shops.

We were richly rewarded at the end of our ride when we arrived around 2:30 at Kasbah Tamadot, the exquisite Richard Branson-owned boutique hotel high in the Atlas Mountains. It perches on a hill overlooking the mountains with indoor and outdoor pools, reflecting pools with rose petals floating everywhere, including atop our bed, and wonderful antiques in each unique room. We enjoyed an excellent late lunch on the terrace and savored our good luck.

It was then that I had Hammam. What is Hammam you might ask? I didn't and just went. This is what they do. You enter a hexagonal marble-lined room with a dome roof with heated walls and floor. A woman pours buckets of very warm water over you; soaps and rinses you; scrubs you with a brush mitt very vigorously (the best part); more buckets of water; applies a soupy mixture of clay over you; lets you sit for 15 minutes; more dousing; shampoos and conditions your hair while giving you a neck and shoulder massage; and finally, coats you with a mixture of verbena and argan oil. I'm still trying to decide if this was a good thing or not. But at least I can say I had an authentic Berber Hammam.

A word about our guides. Olivier, our leader, is French, has been working for B&R for 16 years, and started out as a bike mechanic. He is now regional director for Burgundy and Morocco. Very professional, he has a complete knowledge of Morocco and obviously a great love for it. Sebastian is German and has been with B&R for five years. He leads a lot of European trips. Despite the fact that this is his first Moroccan trip, he is very knowledgable about the country and the trip. They make a good team. Our drivers are all long-time local B&R employees and are all very accommodating.

Our group had a delightful dinner in a private room of the hotel with lots of good conversation and excellent cuisine. We need more biking to take the weight off from these meals! After dinner, the eight of us inspected each other's rooms. Each one is different and each one is decorated with antiques and local art. Our room has an intricate painted ceiling taken from old Marrakesh mansions. It overlooks the outdoor pool and valley beyond.

Up the Mountain...On Foot and Mule
What a great day we had today. First of all, best night's sleep and then a short car ride to the launch of our hike--no bikes today--up into the Atlas mountains. We had Berber guides and burros for each of us if we needed them as well as burro luggage carriers to take our back packs. The population in this valley is 4,000 and they are pretty self-sufficient. There are three main crops--cherries in spring, apples in early fall, and walnuts in late fall. Everyone was very friendly although most do not want their pictures taken because of the moslem belief that it steals your soul. Be that as it may, the women are mostly not fully covered and the men are not bearded.

The hiking was steep and at times a bit treacherous as we faced intermittent rain, but we ultimately hiked about five miles and 1,000 feet up to another village on top of a peak. We had an ample lunch in a local home and guest house of typical Moroccan fare--cold salad with local beets that the beet-lovers raved over, a hot vegetable tangine, and chicken and beef skewers. Fortified and with the sun now shining, we headed down but not before we all mounted our burros, more for the photo op than the transport need, and made our way, ultimately going down about two more miles on foot. Tired, a bit sore, but elated, we went back to our beautiful hotel to relax.

Before dinner Olivier brought in a guest-- an observant moslem woman who works in tourism to speak with us about life in Morocco and to answer our questions. She was interesting and painted a picture of a moderate environment where all religions, including Judaism, are respected. However, she did suggest that Israel as a country would be better off someplace else! She spoke about the King and the steps he has taken to modernize the county's politics. Generally she was optimistic about the country's future and the improving role of women in the country. It was a worthwhile discussion and from there we went to dinner where our guides surprised us with the traditional B&R biker's shirt delivered under a large tangine plate. The Moroccan shirt highlights B&R's financial support for women's education and features the slogan-"Education for All" - in English and Arabic. We were relieved the Arabic wasn't inciting a riot or something.

The last Ride and onto the "Marrakech Express"
Next morning we jumped in the cars for a visit to the girls' boarding house that B&R helps support so that girls from the mountain village have a supervised place to live while getting more than a primary school education. We spoke with an English former teacher who was there for five weeks volunteering. She coaches the girls in French and English. Pretty astonishing that in Morocco, it really helps to know four languages---Berber, Arabic, French and English---to get on well in the country. Can you imagine us doing that in the states? The house was immaculate and houses 36 girls in bunk-bedded dorm rooms. The girls get to learn computer skills, hygiene best practices as well as the language aid. It's an excellent program.

After another 30 minute ride, we reached our final bike-riding jump off point in the middle of arid, rolling hills on a solitary road. Our guides called it a plateau, but somehow the rolling hills kept heading up. And, of course, we had the inevitable head winds so it was another challenging ride. B&R rates this trip "easy to moderate." Our group labels it strictly moderate. Indeed, Betsey, Linda, and Jerri soon opt for the van. We did pause for tea, bread, and something that looked like tan capers but tasted like animal crackers and enjoyed a spectacular view looking down into a valley with hang gliders wafting by us.

Then it was really fun time. We had a five-mile steep downhill with hairpin turns and severe switchbacks through small villages that was exhilarating. The views were awesome when you could spare a second to take your eyes off the road, and the rush was good. Unfortunately, the fun came to a dramatic end for Jim Bordas who collided with a teenager who wasn't watching where he was going. Joel and I came upon Jim after the teen had run off and other kids had helped Jim up. He was bruised and battered. Steven, our resident orthopedic surgeon gave him a cursory once over (and was later chastised for his poor bedside manner), and Sebastian put him in the land rover with an ice pack and Linda tending to him, and they headed directly to Marrakech to get checked out. The doctor he saw gave him some pain medications, and Steven, with improved bedside manner, later determined that Jim had a separated shoulder.

The rest of us finished our ride with a picnic in a grove overlooking the valley and a large lake below. We had table-clothed, low tables with vases of roses and pillows to sit on. A sumptuous spread of beef and vegetable tangines, tomato salad, two kinds of bread, cheese and local cookies topped off with very good rose wine totally resuscitated us. As we were breaking camp, the rain started and it followed us into Marrakech, a 30 minute drive away. We are staying at La Sultana, which is a cobbled together group of five riads in the old city. A riad is a house built around a courtyard. There are no windows looking out but dramatic open atriums around which are the guest rooms. Our room--Tiger-- reminds me of what a harem room might look like. Our bed sits on a raised platform and there are elegant crystal chandeliers and elaborate carved columns framing our bed. We also have oil paintings of tigers gazing down on us. Not bad.

Several of us set out for a walk to explore the old city but when the rain turned into a monsoon, we beat a hasty retreat to the coziness of our rooms. For dinner we had made reservations at the French restaurant in La Mamounia, one of the most celebrated Moroccan restaurants in the most famous hotel in Morocco. The whole group was going and we were hosting Olivier and Sebastian. Jim and Linda came along, and Jim was feeling achy but was a good sport. La Mamounia has been renovated and is a beautiful, large hotel. We all felt that La Sultana was more authentic and a better choice for our trip. The dinner was really excellent and priced at top NY prices, but we all had an enjoyable evening which took our mind off the rain which continued all evening. And this isn't the rainy season yet!

Modern Mohammed Makes Marrakech Memorable
We awoke to a beautiful, sunny day. How lucky, for this day was for touring Marrakech. The word to describe this city is -authentic. First settled in 1062, Marrakech was the critical crossroad of the caravans going north and south. The town reflects this as it is a trading/shopping mecca of more than a million people. We were fortunate to have as our guide, Mohammed, the most famous guide in Marrakech who has guided such luminaries as Presidents Carter, Reagan, and Nixon as well as Kissinger, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Will Smith, Shimon Peres and his grandson (whose other grandfather was Moroccan and they visited his childhood home!) and Yitzak Rabin three weeks before he was assassinated....and us.
He was a fount of information and gave me a much clearer understanding of Islam and the moslem people.

We learned how the religion influenced the architecture. Houses had no external windows both to avoid women being seen from the street and to not flaunt wealth as might be expressed in elaborate interiors. We walked through the old Jewish quarter which did have windows and balconies facing out because Judaism doesn't hide women.

Our first stop was the Bahia Palace, home of the early kings, where Mohammed explained Islamic art as depicted there. The religion forbade worship of idols so there is no figurative art. Art is focussed on three things---geometry, calligraphy (Go Nina!) and floral design. The Palace had ample and impressive examples of these forms applied to the building's decor. And, interestingly an inscription on the walls-----health and peace---sums up the most important needs for moslems, according to Mohammed--our guide as well as the original Mohammed.

From this spiritual palace we made our way to a natural palace---the gardens of Yves Saint Laurent, Originally created by the French artist, Majorelle, in the early 1900's, Saint Laurent and his partner bought them in 1980, when they faced destruction for a housing development, and restored and improved them. They are a real treasure, with bamboo forests, cactus gardens, and a beauty and peacefulness that is hard to imagine in this bustling city. Only three weeks ago, Saint Laurent's partner opened a small museum in the gardens that houses a superb collection of early Berber antiques. They are presented in a gem-like environment, and we felt very lucky to have been here after it opened.

Next stop was the Ben Youssef Medersa, one of the early islamic schools, founded in the 14th century. Another example of fine Islamic architecture. Mohammed then took us on a walk through the souks and what a walk it was. We meandered through so many alleys and walkways and right turns and left turns that you could never imagine finding your way out. Everywhere there were goods for sale--from cheap Chinese rip-offs to vegetables, food stuffs, and wonderful aromatic stalls filled with spices and herbs. Betsey tell me I should rave about the olives even though I don't eat olives. They are well displayed here and everyone--who eats olives---enjoyed them the whole trip.

As you walk in the narrow alleys, you must watch your ass---not because it might get pinched but because barreling along come scooters, bikes, or donkey carts paying no attention to whatever is in the road. It's a harrowing way to shop but actually a lot of fun.

I should say that before we stopped for lunch Mohammed did have us stop at his wife's fine antique store where we picked up a little something. For lunch we had a real treat---Mohammed's own riad in the souk. It is called Riad Kniza and is a beautifully restored boutique hotel where we had a sumptuous lunch. Then more walking in the souks until we nearly dropped.

This was our last evening with our B&R bike group and it turned out to be very special. Olivier and Sebastian arranged for horse drawn carriages to take us to the huge town square. Now this square is very significant because it was the nexus of trade in Morocco and thus the tradition was established to provide places to eat, to medicate, to be entertained, and to rest, and that tradition continues every night in this giant square. The first thing you notice is the noise---thousands of people chattering away and all sorts of little bands playing contradictory music while in the center are cooking tents with big open barbecues, fish stalls, and other delectables are cooked and sold and eaten right before your eyes. We walked by snake charmers, a violin player with a rooster sitting atop his head, monkeys on leashes, and all sorts of goods for sale, It was a loud, vibrant, melee of people, and it was great fun to watch- first from a perch up above that Olivier had arranged and then walking through the organized chaos. I must say that throughout Morocco all of us have felt very safe and comfortable.

Once back at our hotel we enjoyed cocktails on the terrace and the night was luscious. Poor Linda spent most of this time on the phone arranging flights back home since they concluded that Jim can't continue on the trip. Finally, we dined in a courtyard and I had the group do "Bests & Worsts" as we relived the memorable moments of our biking adventure in Morocco. We bid everyone goodbye as we set out tomorrow --now the intrepid four--Selkowitz's and Feinsod's--for further exploration in Morocco.

China-Part 3

2011-05-25T17:19:00.002-04:00

Shanghai and Xian, May 19-24, 2011
It was a three-hour bus ride from Hangzhou to Shanghai and it is alleged that half the building cranes in the world are being utilized along this route. I can believe it. There is construction everywhere along the highway--offices, apartment towers, single-family homes, retail complexes and industrial plants. Another amazing fact---the first highway in China was built in 1990. Today only the US has more highways than China, and now the focus is on high-speed rail. You can only imagine where we stand versus China on that score. As we approach Shanghai, the apartment towers of the outer neighborhoods loom large. The first time I was here more than a dozen years ago, I drove in from the airport on a narrow road with low houses barely lit all along the way. Today, it's like beginning in the Bronx and heading into Manhattan only expand that by 20!

We drove straight to about the only old section of Shanghai, interestingly called China Town, where the government has kept things similar to what they once were, except a lot of the buildings are new made to look old. We ate a supposed dim sum lunch at Lv Bolang restaurant which included a lot of other unappetizing dishes (I am quickly losing interest in China's Chinese food and I am not alone). President Clinton and Fidel Castro ate here. Come to think of it Clinton has eaten in a couple of other places where we've eaten on this trip and now I know why he craved McDonalds. Anyway, afterwards we toured Yuyuan Garden close by which is the only existing Ming Dynasty private garden (now owned by the state) and was built 450 years ago. It is an island of tranquility in the midst of a noisy city. Built by a noble high official of the Ming Dynasty as his home,it is five acres of gardens, pavilions and water lagoons. Chinese gardens require four elements: plants, water, rocks, and building structures. All combine here to make a harmonious setting.

Our last stop is to the Xintiandi district which is part of the French Concession. What is that? It seems in 1840 China fought the Opium War against Britain to try and stop British exports of Opium into China (they introduced the drug to the Chinese). It was a short war and humiliating defeat for the Chinese who later were forced to grant full administrative rights to the English, French, and Americans for big chunks of Shanghai, and other port cities, so these foreign nations' nationals could enjoy the comforts of home while doing business in Shanghai. The French Concession is marked by Sycamore-tree lined avenues and small residential buildings. Most have been torn down but recreated as boutique, bistro, and apartment areas and a tres chic area. Think about this: none of the stores that line the avenues of Shanghai existed in 1986. Most of the space was occupied by housing or occasional state-owned stores. Imagine creating the equivalent of hundreds of shopping malls in 25 years time. I know China has arrived when I see an ad for Hooters in Shanghai.

Our hotel is in the Concession and it's out of the ordinary. A 1930's mansion once owned by a Chinese Mafia leader, it has very spacious rooms and period details like art deco chandeliers and cabinets but extremely modern amenities. The toilet is the most extreme with a control panel to let you rinse, dry or douche at various temperatures and intensities while warming your butt. What a ride! Speaking of toilets, in the major cities there are many public toilets which are clean, and are often used by the less fortunate residents who reside three families to a small apartment, have to share one kitchen and don't have a bathroom but instead use pots and the public restrooms. All is not glorious in China.

On the other hand, while you're sitting on the can, think about this. The Huangpu River divides the city between east and west. On the east is Pudong, an area that in 1989 was totally farmland. Today it is Manhattan with a 110 story office tower and other spires that dominate the skyline. Since 1989 Shanghai has built seven new suspension bridges connecting to Pudong across the river and seven automobile and subway tunnels. In New Jersey, Chris Christie, that brilliant leader, killed one desperately needed rail tunnel connecting NJ and NY, and we haven't had a new tunnel or bridge to handle increased traffic of any kind in decades. 14 spans versus 0. Enough said.

This evening we had our final lecture from Professor Spence, held as a joint reception with the Yale Alumni Club of Shanghai at the top of the Four Seasons hotel. The speech was entitled "Years of experimentation 1800-to present" and was more philosophical and ethereal, not to say elliptical, than we anticipated. Perhaps it was over our heads or we were just plain tired. Afterwards, we and the Feinsods went to, Isola, an Italian Zagat recommended restaurant which was most enjoyable in its Italianness.

Next morning we headed to People's Square which was once the race track in the British Concession. On the square is the Opera House, a modernistic glass and steel pagoda that soars, as well as a couple of municipal buildings and the renowned Shanghai Museum which is a round and square granite shape intended to mimic an ancient bronze pot. We spent the entire morning in the museum and still didn't see everything. The design of the building's interior is efficient and clean, with display rooms built around a central atrium and the exhibits mounted with great clarity and impact. There are extraordinary exhibits of jade, calligraphy, porcelains, furniture, and paintings. The paintings, in particular, are exquisitely and serenely done. We opted for the excellent gift shop rather than see the coins and bronzes and did a bit of damage there.

We were rewarded with a good western lunch at Kathleen's on the top floor of an art deco building with a Big Ben-like clock tower. And then we and the Feinsods and Arthur Broadus (a fellow traveler) went off to M50, a contemporary art district with galleries in old lofts and warehouses which was so much better and more sophisticated and less commercial than the one we visited in Beijing. Although tempted by a few pieces, Betsey restrained me, but it was well worth the visit. Interestingly, it seemed like there was a lot more political art here than in Beijing, and more than I would have expected. Not all anti or pro, but the "revolution" is still obviously a topic of exploration in the art world here. I suspect China will be feeling the effects of the Cultural Revolution for at least another generation to come.

That evening was our farewell dinner with the group. But first, we all headed to see the Bund, a strip of 1930's office buildings that was once the "Wall Street" of China but now features rows of pricey boutiques. The Bund sits along the Huangpo River across from the modern "Wall Street" of Pudong. What a contrast! The art deco and European style of the Bund buildings built in the late '20s is sharply juxtaposed against the brassiness, bravado, and towering splendor of Pudong. At night the contrast is all the more stark, because Pudong shines like Broadway with neon outlines on the buildings, full-building video advertising, all sorts of light effects on the soaring "pearl" television tower. It is truly one of the most dramatic vistas we have seen in any city. And to think, commercial Pudong is only twenty years old and most is only ten. In NY it's taken us 10 years to build half of the Freedom Tower. All over the city there is interesting new architecture, frequently high rise global hotel brands. Many of the buildings' crowns or pediments are distinct and many are lit in interesting ways at night. Some, to be sure, are kitsch and awful, but others inspire. Also, very creative is how the elevated highways that wind through the city are finished underneath to be neat and smooth and bordered in blue neon so that at night there is a soft blue ribbon glow meandering throughout the city. Remarkable.

Our farewell dinner was hopefully farewell to lazy-susan meals. It was held at the Dingxiang Garden Restaurant which is on the grounds of a large mansion and garden in the French Concession. It was a convivial meal with toasts and thank yous all around, and all of us, I think, felt genuinely happy to have traveled with our compatriots. Back at the hotel we all bid each other farewell as some were heading out early the next day and others were tarrying a day as we are. I must say a word about Lili, the guide who stayed with us throughout the journey. She was amazing, full of knowledge, humor, wisdom, and efficiency. We believe she is one of the best guides we have had anywhere. Truly a keeper.

Next morning--on our own with the Feinsods-- we headed to the Bund to meet a guide who was taking us on a tour of "Jewish Shanghai." We met at the Peace Hotel which is a superb example of art deco interiors. Having just been restored and now managed by Fairmont, it was originally built by Jacob Sassoon, the "founder" of Shanghai's Jewish community and thereby begins the tale.

It seems after the Opium Wars in the 1840's, David Sassoon,patriarch of a Baghdadi Jewish family that had emigrated to India to escape persecution, decided Shanghai offered great opportunity now that the British had opened it up. He settled his family here and began major opium trading operations and investments in real estate. He also imported large numbers of fellow Iraqi Jews whom he trained to help run his operations. The community grew and prospered and several families became extremely wealthy. One such Sassoon protege was Eli Kadoorie who eventually became one of the wealthiest men in China and whose family started and owns the Peninsula hotel chain and the tram to the Peak in Hong Kong, among many other assets.

The next phase of Jewish immigration was Russian Jews leaving the pograms of the Czar and taking the trans-Siberian railway into China in the early 1900's. they settled in the Hongkou section of Shanghai and became merchants--bakers, bankers, butchers, and the like. As they prospered, many moved to the French Concession, a more desirable neighborhood.

Finally, after Kristelnacht in 1938, Jews primarily from Germany and Austria flocked here. Why Shanghai? A major reason was the fact the most countries were denying visas to Jews fleeing Europe, but Shanghai was an open port which meant visas were not necessary. If you could get here, you were safe....for the moment anyway. Most of the Jews moved into Hongkou, but after Japan invaded China in World War II, and the Germans put pressure on the Japanese, all Jews arriving in Shanghai after 1937 had to move to Hungkow. Some 20,000 European Jews had fled the Holocaust and come to Shanghai. Among them was my former client, Michael Blumenthal (Carter's Secretary of the Treasury) who came here at 13 and delivered bread in the now overcrowded ghetto to help feed his family. On this tour we visited a Jewish Refugee museum which has a wall devoted to Blumenthal's story. We also saw the building in which he and his family and scores of other refugees lived. The tour and our Israeli leader (been here for 10 years) were fascinating. There isn't much left but we walked the streets of the ghetto, visited an apartment that once housed families of Jews, and a synagogue, now restored, started by the Russian Jews. There is only one other existing synagogue in Shanghai and it is not open to the general public and only to local Jews about three times a year. In fact, Judaism is not allowed as a religion in China. It is not anti-semitism (the Chinese are not anti-semitic); it is simply that the Chinese discourage religion in general and if you're not powerful like the Catholic church, you're not likely to get your religion recognized. The Jews that are here (expats) worship in private homes. After the 1949 Communist revolution, all the Jews of Shanghai, along with most westerners, fled the country, and soon after the Communists took over all private property and made it state property. 1949 marked the end of any indigenous immigrant Jewish population and even the dead were obliterated. There once were four Jewish cemeteries but they have all been built over and our guide has taken on the project of finding missing gravestones. So far he has recovered about 110 of what once were more than 3,000 headstones.

By now the weather had turned chilly and drizzly, so we headed for a late lunch at M on the Bund, considered one of the best restaurants with not a lazy susan in sight, and enjoyed a light meal. We tried going back to the Shanghai Museum, but it was closed, so we headed back to the hotel to warm up. Such a contrast. Yesterday was like a very hot Asian summer day; and today it's like Stamford in April.

For our last dinner we went to the Strip with Jason Goldberg, the son of friends of ours in Stamford, who has been working here since 2007 as an attorney. This was a steakhouse which Jason thought we would welcome at this point in our trip. He was correct. It was interesting speaking with him about life as an expat in Shanghai and what life was like generally here in China. He loves it here but seems quite realistic about both the potential and the drawbacks.

We headed out early the next cool and drizzly morning for the Pudong airport to fly to Xi'An, home of the fabled buried clay soldiers. I had expected a small town but it turns our the Xi'An metropolitan area holds 9 million people! Both the Pudong and Xian airports are again examples of modernistic arching architecture and pristine cleanliness. The ride into Xi'An is on manicured highways lined with Plum trees like the one in our front yard. We met Wei Wei our guide here and headed right to the excellent Shaanxi (the province here) History Museum. It's a twenty-year old building designed to mimic Tang dynasty architecture, simpler than the Ming style, and it covers the region's 6,000 year old history. There are 6,000 year-old pottery pieces, bronzes (that we missed in the Shanghai museum), some wonderful Tang dynasty horses and scores of burial figures. It's most valuable treasure are three scraps of the first paper ever invented; it's the oldest known example of paper in the world.

Some explanations: the Silk Road actually began in the Tang dynasty (600-900 AD) as the "horse" road because the Tang people were being overrun by outsiders and the only beasts of war they had were small mongolian horses. So the Tang Emperor sent minions to the west to find bigger horses which came from Iran. Another explanation: Buddhism came here in 29AD and preached that life would be a lot better in the next life if people worked at being good in this life. Hence the need to insure you went to the next life well prepared. In the early days the wealthy had slaves so when the Emperor or wealthy leader died, his slaves were killed and buried with him so he'd have slaves in the afterlife. Later, when feudalism became the norm, the Emperors had no slaves to kill so they turned to substitutes like clay figures who potentially would come alive in the afterlife with the Emperor to serve him.

We rested briefly and then headed to the Muslim section. Muslims immigrated here in two waves--600's AD when the Silk Road opened up and 1300's, and there are now about 100,000 in Xi'An. There is one main pedestrian street lined with food stalls and souvenir shops and while very touristy (particularly for the native Chinese tourists) it gives you a sense of what Xi'An must have been like 30+ years ago. We visited a mosque that resembles in all ways Chinese Pagodas but it is an active mosque and we watch the Chinese muslim men arriving for evening prayers. The Imam here is a local hero. Now in his 90's, during the Cultural Revolution he heard the Red Guard was coming to sack the Mosque. He quickly rallied his flock and had them dress in Red Guard outfits and occupy the Mosque. When the real Red Guard came, they thought the Mosque had already been taken over and moved on.

We had dinner at the famous Defachang restaurant which is more than 100 years old and which is renowned for its dumpling dinner. We had 18 different varieties of dumplings which, to be honest, all tasted pretty much alike although I particularly liked the walnut one. My three dinner companions were more enthusiastic about the dining experience. Afterwards, we had our driver drop us off in People's Square near our hotel so we could walk off the dumplings and watch the local residents, roller skating, dancing in the park and giving their small children rides on kiddy-cars.

We were out early the next morning to visit the famous Terra-Cotta Warriors of ancient Xi'An. Some context. Emperor Qin reigned for 37 years around 200 BC and was a most formidable guy. He became Emperor at age 13 (nice Bar Mitzvah present) and began building his tomb two years later. It took 40 years, 700,000 workers and covered 35 square miles--the biggest tomb in the world. While this was going on Qin managed to conquer the warring factions and create the first unified China, unified alphabet, units of currency and measurement, and link the various fortress walls into the Great Wall. Because he thought of himself as larger than life, he wanted the same grand life after he died. Hence the scope of his tomb which consisted of a low pyramid-shaped clay tomb, now covered with earth and grass and then a whole series of pits in which he had created and placed a 7,000 man terra-cotta army, complete with infantry, cavalry, including the horses, and bowmen; half-size chariots and horses made of bronze, silver, and gold, and assorted other terra-cotta court figures and objects. The tomb has never been opened because there are fears it was sealed with mercury poison and the government is waiting to figure out how to handle all this. The army pit was discovered in 1974 by peasant farmers who were digging a well. (Today, one of those farmers sits in the gift shop autographing a photo book for money).

Now Qin was a really nasty Emperor and had no compunctions about killing people at his whim. (indeed, he had all his concubines killed and buried with him). So two years after he died, there was a peasant uprising to overthrow the dynasty and the peasants entered the pits and broke up the clay soldiers and set fire to the pits (whose roofs were timbered) for revenge and to steal the real weapons that the terra-cotta warriors held. Consequently, archeologists not only had to excavate the pits but also painfully restore the soldiers. Many are restored but many, many more remain to be repaired. The government has built enormous and quite tasteful sheds and buildings over the three pits that have been excavated so far, and so the impact when you walk into the first pit museum is pretty stunning. These figures are carved in minute detail and each face is unique, matching the face of a real soldier of the time. They are larger than life and stand in strict formation at silent attention, thrilling those of us fortunate enough to gaze down on them. The two restored chariots and horses are also exquisite, delicate and detailed at half-size. In that same building are some soldiers that were found that still had color to them (all were once elaborately painted) and you can see the detail up close that goes so far as to show the grain of the soles of a solider's boots. We were really blown away by the whole experience and all of it is presented in a very tasteful and respectful way.

We had a noodle lunch at the museum which was quite good and then visited the Wild Goose pagoda ( 641 AD) (I won't bore you with the story) which is leaning like Pisa and the City Wall which dates to the early Ming Dynasty in the 1400's and is a 9 mile rectangle around the old city of Xi'An. It has been restored and is actually wider than the Great Wall and has a moat around it. Funny, how all these cities, here and in Europe came up with the same idea to defend themselves-- a moat and a wall. We also visited a state-owned store specializing in Jade and native crafts and did some shopping. For our last major dinner we went to what was billed as a Cantonese restaurant across from our hotel and ordered by pointing at pictures of the dishes. Nothing resembled chow mien; however, we did manage to eke out a pretty decent meal and then went back to the hotel for ice cream and coffee but not before enjoying a folk dance on the sidewalk by a senior association group of women dancing to the beat of drums and cymbals.

Our last day in China we slept in a bit and then met our very good Xi'An guide, Wei Wei for our last sightseeing of the trip. Enroute we passed through a newer section of the city which was row upon row upon row of new apartments and other buildings under construction. It was quite unbelievable. From the frenzy of the 21st century we were soon thrust back to the Han Dynasty (circa 200 BC) when we visited the Hangyangling Museum at the site of a Han ruler's tomb who lived from 188-141 BC. What was interesting about this tomb were the pits they discovered which differed from the terra-cotta soldiers in that the clay figures here are only about 25" tall, have the same faces, but no arms because they were made of wood and are all naked because they were clothed in actual garments. Again, there are thousands here along with models of hundreds of food animals, full size pottery and other implements---all intended for the afterlife. Amazing how these emperors were so fixated on the next life.

From there we headed to the airport; had another lame airport Chinese meal (except for the $7 coffee Betsey had afterwards) and flew to Beijing for the first leg on our trip home. We checked into the airport Hilton which was quite grand; were upgraded to a suite which is a shame because we head for the airport for our flight home at 5 am!

So, to paraphrase "Morning Joe", what have we learned on this trip? 1) China is a fascinating country, growing by leaps and bounds and throwing off the depression of the Cultural Revolution with an outburst of materialism. 2) Big issues remain. For example, with this mad long rush to the cities, who will be left on the farm to produce the food this country needs to feed itself? The only farmers we saw in the field were middle aged at best. 3) I do not see the Chinese as being outwardly focussed or militarily aggressive. They are the ones who were invaded by the west and the Japanese. Unless their vital interests are involved, I suspect they would prefer to ignore the rest of the world. 4) How is it that the culture that values and enshrines aesthetic beauty in its gardens and even along its tree-lined and gardened boulevards and highways has cities that are for the most part unattractive and banal? 5) Chinese food gets old rather fast in direct proportion with mastering chop sticks. 6) The Chinese, while very loud (especially on cell phones), very pushy in lines, and given to spitting in public, also have clean public toilets, no graffiti, and are very sociable. 7) Everything in China today is BIG. 8) In China, Coke Zero is cannibalizing Diet Coke.

China-Part 2

2011-05-25T16:48:00.003-04:00

Longsheng, Guilin, Li River, Hangzhou- May 15-19,2011
From the wheat country to the rice country, we are headed south to Longsheng in the mountains to the south where rice is king. And what does rice need a lot of? Water, and water in the form of steady rains is what greets us when we disembark from our flight from Beijing. Ordinarily this wouldn't be a big deal, but at the end of a very long day--up at 5am, bus to airport, two-hour flight, 2 1/2 hour bus to the base of a village in the mountains where we are accosted by local women of the Yao clan who cut their hair only once at age 18 and subsequently wrap it around the head like a turban, and then a transfer to another bus whose driver is expert at maneuvering up the mountain with constant switch-backs---then the road ends and we have to walk up a steep incline for 30 minutes to the Li An Lodge, all in a steady downpour. The one concession, and I'm a bit embarrassed by it, our backpacks and hand luggage (all we are allowed to take on this segment of the trip) are carried up the slope in big baskets on the backs of older local women.

A saga, but in the end we laugh about it, soaked as we are, and let the hoteliers take our shoes and give us slippers and take us to our rooms, each one named for a certain handicraft. Ours is "Rock" and our room contains some beautiful carved stones and "chops" and a spectacular view-- if the fog or clouds ever clear--of the rice terraces. This is a famous area in China for the remarkable rice terraces, going back 800 years, and we catch sight on the way up in the lower terraces of workers planting the rice seedlings and tending them. We go through forests of bamboo and it's all pretty special even in the rain.

A word about nationalities. The Han people comprise 93% of the Chinese population, but there are 50+ other nationalities that make up the remaining 7%. The region we are in is an "autonomous" minority region where there is significant presence of minorities including the Yao people previously mentioned. You can see a resemblance to the Vietnamese people here and we are actually fairly close to the border with Viet Nam.

The lodge we are staying in overnight was built by a Chinese American photographer who came up here and fell in love with the scenery. He has had a photograph from this place on the cover of National Geographic. When the fog and clouds briefly part we can see why he fell in love. Concentric swirls of terraces around mountain peaks are everywhere. It is too early in the season at this elevation to see the rice sprouting, so the primary visual is the water channels in the terrace which reaches the trenches from bamboo viaducts, the same way it has been done for hundreds of years. We had a bland dinner at the lodge, watched a brief video of the rice farming process and fell into a deep sleep very quickly.

Next morning we start out with our first lecture by Jonathan Spence. His subject--years of power--1600-1800, primarily the Quing Dynasty, the reign of the Manchurians. He was interesting and it proved to me how little most of us know about Chinese history and how we really should be studying them a lot more. The weather had cleared so we were able to go out and hike among the rice paddies. What views we saw! We've seen rice paddies elsewhere but these are really special---row upon row up and down the mountainside with undulations across the hills and rushing water from natural springs at the top being channeled into the paddies through sluices of bamboo. We covered about two miles and at times there was fog and the paddies and hills would peek out below or above the fog and at other times we had bright sunshine. The village sits in a gorge in the middle of all this and we can watch the villagers preparing and repairing the paddies in anticipation of planting season. It is an idyllic walk, tempered only by the row upon row of souvenir stands that line the village streets on our return. The hawkers aren't so aggressive here and we also can watch them preparing lunch which mostly seemed to be wrapping rice in a corn husk and stuffing it into a hollow bamboo and barbecuing it on an open fire.

MAJOR NEWS--We discovered in the morning that my blog has been blocked in China! Bob Friedman complained that he couldn't open my blog link and when I checked I could no longer access the blog site. The night before we had no trouble and now no one in China can access the site. Lily, our guide, said she thought it was my using the names of Mao and Deng that caught the attention of the filterers, and that's why I am blocked. She said if, for example, I had written Mao as M/ao, the filter might not have caught it. I am already working on ways to get around this so I can send the next chapter out while still in China. We will see if I succeed or end up in jail!

We had a quick lunch back at our lodge and then trekked down the hill which was made all the more pleasant by the lack of rain. On our bus ride back to the city we could enjoy the really stunning scenery of tall hills of bamboo forests and other interesting trees. We rode into Guilin, a city of 800,000 (considered a tiny city in China) which is surrounded by high,looming limestone hills. We drove down wide boulevards lined with attractive gardens. The city itself has building height restrictions so the hills aren't blocked but the architecture is pretty nondescript. There are four lakes in the middle of the city with interesting bridges crossing them which gives the city a unique flavor.

In this city motor scooters outnumber cars by a long shot and regular bicycles have been replaced by battery-operated bikes that make no noise, and at night the riders turn off the headlight to save the battery and thus become human bombs if you happen to be crossing the street and can't see or hear them.

Dinner was rather a disappointment. A tourist trap---Green Tea Restaurant where each course has some connection with tea as an ingredient. The food was less than mediocre but we were seated next to Jonathan Spence and his wife and the conversation more than made up for the food.

The next morning we get to sleep in a bit (like 6:45!) and after breakfast head out of town to take a ride down the Li River, considered one of the most beautiful locations in China. The boat terminal is another mass mush scene as people stream onto the more than a dozen ferry-type boats docked there. The ride down is relaxing and the scenery is imposing---the large limestone hills called karsts, often in shapes that suggest people's heads. It is very reminiscent of Halong Bay in Viet Nam although that Bay is the more dramatic we decide.

We headed towards the airport and stopped for our worst meal yet at another tourist trap (what are they thinking when the best item is cooked celery?). It seems the food and public restrooms have gone downhill in Guilin. Our flight to Hangzhou is smooth and uneventful. This city is considered one of the most enjoyable in China with lush green hills and great affluence. The city's origins go back 6000 years, but since 1980 it was one of the first areas in China to open up to western companies and is considered the home of China's entrepreneurs. This is a high tech industrial center, including being the home town of Volvo's new Chinese owners who are building Volvos here. It is one of the wealthiest, if not the wealthiest, cities in China. Chinese children now start to learn English in second grade and in private schools they start English at age three. This country is definitely beyond being on the move; they are getting "there" rapidly.

One of our fellow travelers calls the crane China's national bird. He meant the building cranes, not the real bird. In Hangzhou there are cranes everywhere and you really get the feeling of a bursting out China. We see row upon row of new housing developments--narrow three or four story individual houses with pseudo Victorian or Mansard or Colonial roof lines because the wealthy Chinese like European and American styling. The houses are large but they must accommodate the usual extended Chinese family--children, parents, grandparents.

At the end of this day's journey is Fuchun Resort, and none too soon. We are bused out. Fuchon is a classically beautiful, modern golf and vacation resort with low-slung Japanese style buildings and villas. Extremely upscale ("Leading Hotels of the World"), the staff aims to please but, again surprisingly, English is a challenge for many of the staff. We have a very nice, western dinner in a beautiful setting with a very sweet but English-challenged server. Next morning we realize how exquisite this place really is. It is more Aman-like than the Beijing Aman with a zen approach to architecture. There is beauty looking down every hallway and the plantings and indoor plant arrangements convey a total sense of simplicity and elegance and beauty. No kidding. At breakfast we sit outside overlooking a lagoon and the tea bushes in terraces surround a couple of holes of the golf course. We could sit there all day, but we move on.

We move on to Annping Chin's second lecture--Women and the Family--in which she recites passages about outspoken women of ancient China and the role of women into modern times. It seems they are often the power behind the throne, whether it be the Emperor's throne or a local bigwig. She also recounts that there are posters in the rural areas today that extol the values of having daughters, no doubt to counter the traditional desire to have sons which has led to an imbalance in male/female ratios here.

As serene and beautiful as Fuchun is, we elect to take an optional tour into Hangzhou and we are well rewarded. Enroute, Lily talks about her family and especially her father who had to go to work at age 10, entered the liberation army and ultimately became a professor of philosophy and an ardent Communist, only to be expelled from the Army during the Cultural Revolution because he had once had Kumintang connections. Now 81 and still an ardent Communist he contents himself by blogging and surfing the internet.

Ben, our local guide, took us to one of his favorite restaurants--Grandma's Kitchen--and thankfully, we are the only non-Chinese there. We enjoyed another lunch (lazy susan style without the lazy susan) of local specialties---jelly fish, seaweed, local fish, a whole chicken (including the head and legs), etc. Well I enjoyed some of it... It turns out Grandma's Kitchen is a chain of 30 restaurants, but it is a chain we can certainly recommend.

After lunch we visited a garden and pavilions which were once the private villa of a major industrialist named Guo and was built in the 19th century on West Lake. Again, the combination of architecture and landscape and use of water in pools and lagoons has a calming and almost curative effect. The Lake itself is occupied by boatmen giving boat rides, small sailboats, and a wind surfer or two. All is well.

Our last stop was to the Lingyin Temple, a celebrated Buddhist temple whose origins date to 326 Ad. Twenty thousand visitors a day come here, most curious, some devout, and some not wishing to take any chances. The temple has burned down several times because of carless incense burners (who are now banned) and it was last rebuilt about 30 years ago. The Temple itself is actually a series of buildings, each containing statues of gods and disciples and of course, a huge laughing Buddha is the star attraction. On a nearby limestone hill there are carved gods and Buddhas dating from the 10th century.

We returned to Fuchun in time to relax on the verandah. Interestingly in China, it seems the people discourage relaxing outdoors and avoid the sun at all costs. Every hotel pool has been indoors and there have been scant, if any, comfortable chairs in which to sit outside and enjoy the sun. One could have expected this from the Chinese women who often cary parasols, but they obviously discourage it among tourists as well.

We had a traditional local ten-course dinner in the Chinese restaurant at Fuchun and prepared for an early departure (by bus!) for Shanghai.

China-May 8-25, 2011, Part 1

2011-05-14T10:05:00.003-04:00

China-Beijing and Surroundings
May 8-15, 2011

We are in Chicago, waiting to board our connecting flight to Beijing and we see scores of young Chinese in line. Curious, we ask what group they are with and are told there is no group;they all don't know each other. These are college students from all over the midwest, going home to China after classes are over. Scores on one flight. Welcome to the new realities of the 21st century.

We are going to China with our friends, Esta and Jay Feinsod, his nephew Bob and wife Barbara, on an alumni trip sponsored by Yale. No, I didn't go to Yale, but Bob's wife did.
Hence our invitation. Ordinarily we don't like big group tours, but this one features Jonathan Spence, who is renowned as an expert on Chinese history and is consistently voted the most popular professor at Yale. His wife and fellow professor, Annping Chin, accompanies us. So here we are heading to China. It's not our first trip. I have been to Beijing a couple of times, to Shanghai once, and Betsey went to Beijing once, but all on business and all more than a decade ago. This is our first "tourist" trip there.

We arrived at midnight and walked through the sparkling new Norman Foster-designed terminal which was impressive. Forty five minutes later we arrived at Raffles Hotel on East Chang An Avenue, the grand boulevard of Beijing. We are a few blocks from Tian'Anmen Square which we walked through after a decent night's sleep and a saunter on the main walking and shopping street around the corner from our hotel. I had to buy a sports jacket since I forgot the one I planned to bring for the one "dressy" dinner planned on this trip. Finding a jacket to buy was the easy part; getting the sleeves shortened was the challenge. Finally, the manager of the hotel got the hotel's uniform department to oversee the alterations.

First impressions of Beijing--it's big. Our guide told us that they publish a new map of Beijing every three months because it is growing so fast. The city has 19 million population, making it the third largest in China. I never heard of the largest city---Chongqing--which has 34 million and Shanghai, #3 has 22 million, but is the densest. For perspective New York has under 10 million. Whereas the first time I came to China in the nineties everyone was on bicycles, today, the bikes sit parked and there are mostly cars and very few scooters. American brands are ubiquitous and there isn't a Mao jacket in sight. I am a bit surprised that in our hotel and the major tourist places the Chinese employees' English is relatively weak. We found this especially to be the case when we went for massages in the hotel. We had asked for full body massages but they spent 45 minutes on our feet and only afterwards when I kept saying "full body--back," with appropriate finger pointing, did I get the rest of the massage.

Dinner was at "Made in China" in the Grand Hyatt which is supposed to be one of Beijing's best restaurants. We ordered lots of dishes and shared a very good meal. The vegetables seem to be the best, but contrary to Larry Stein's admonition, we had a shrimp dish which was quite tasty, even if they are bottom feeders.

Wednesday, May 10th, our first full day of touring. We started out with a briefing by the tour company. There are 34 of us, a very big group. Most have some Yale connection; most are older than we are; most came on the trip because of the legend of the professor, Jonathan Spence. Unfortunately, we learned that Spence and his wife, the other lecturer, won't arrive until Saturday, after we've left the whole Forbidden Palace experience. We are a bit bummed by this since we had the impression that Spence would be with us the whole trip, and now it sounds like he'll do two lectures and his wife two. Anyway, we are here and we move on. The group seems friendly and of course, there are a few coincidences. We meet Stuart Rosenblum; "old Stamford" folks will remember his late father, the dentist, Elmer Rosenblum. There is another couple who are old friends of our friends, the Currys. Several know Betsey's cousin, Nina Glickson, who works for Rick Levin at Yale. And so on.

We board our bus (you know how I love buses) and our first stop is the Houhai District, Houhai is a Hutong, an old neighborhood of one-story houses. The government, after tearing down much of old Beijing and meeting protests, is now preserving some of these old districts to show how life was like in the old days and gentrifying them. Actually, many government officials and wealthy individuals have homes here which are quite expensive but look rather worn, and some still have no indoor plumbing and depend on public toilets. Methinks Houhai is due for gentrification. We tour the District in rickshaws which is fun and visit the home of, Song Ching Ling, Madame Sun Yat-sun, whose husband was a leader of the revolution which established the first republic in 1911. She became a revered persona throughout the history of modern China and died in 1981 with the near equivalent of sainthood. Interestingly, her older sister married the Finance Minister; and her other sister married Chaing Kai Shek, so it is said one married for money; one for love; and one for power.

We had lunch in a private home in the District and again the vegetables excelled, and then were taken to see the Olympic Park. The Bird's Nest stadium looked even more impressive in person although I wish we had seen the Water Cube at night when it glowed. The whole park is now a major tourist attraction, for the Chinese especially, who take great pride in what was accomplished in pulling off such a spectacular show. From sports to culture we then visited 798, the Dashanzi art district. It's called 798 because that was the "name" of a military factory there which has since been converted to art galleries and boutiques as have surrounding factories. It's supposed to be like a New York Soho but it falls rather flat. Some amusing large outdoor sculptures but we are not blown away by any of the art. Perhaps it's because by now we are pretty tuckered out, the wind has picked up, and despite the fact that Beijing is a very clean city, we feel slightly covered in dust and smog. We have barely more than an hour to clean up before we head out as a group to Dadong restaurant, reputed to have the best Beijing duck in Beijing. It really is excellent as are most of the more than a dozen different dishes we are served. Fully sated and exhausted we limped back to our hotel. We depart again at 8:30 tomorrow morning. Yikes!

The next day we spent the morning walking--over 4 miles in total, through Tian'Anmen Square and the Forbidden Palace. The Square at 100 acres is the largest in the world and can theoretically hold one million people, although the record to date is some 600,000. Several thousand are already there when we reach the Square which has become a major destination for people from all over the country. Mao's picture (actually an oil painting that is periodically replaced when faded) still graces the entrance to the Forbidden City. I asked if Mao was now reviled, why his likeness remains. Apparently Deng Xiao Ping, who is the father of modern China and likely to go down in history as the greatest Chinese leader ever, felt that while Mao made mistakes he was still a great figure of history, and more importantly, the people seeing Mao's likeness would remember that leaders can make mistakes and are not gods. He refused to allow his likeness to replace Mao's.

Two observations from Tian'Amen Square: the Chinese tourists from the rural areas of China want their pictures taken with westerners. Some have never seen a white face and they want to show their folks back home what "we" look like. Second, the National Museum on the Square is purported to be the largest museum in the world and has just been renovated. Yet we don't go there and are told there is only one small exhibit. For a country that represents the oldest continuous civilization in the world, there seem to be precious few artifacts of that history worthy for a museum in the capital. We are told Shanghai has the museum, but perhaps it is the only one

The Forbidden City is a zoo. There are mobs of people that make enjoying the architecture and the history nigh on impossible. 40,000-50,000 visitors a day stream through. To look into the throne room, for example, we are instructed by our guide to push and shove and fight our way to the front for a quick peek. When Betsey and I toured this place a dozen or more years ago, we could visit in peace with not a lot of company. Now, with prosperity and more openness, the Chinese tourists are here in swarms, all following tour leaders waving brightly colored flags and shrieking instructions on microphones to their followers who often are in identifiable hats. What a scene!

The Forbidden City itself is more than twice the size of the Louvre and ten times the size of Buckingham Palace. It was built nearly 600 years ago when the capital was moved from Nanjing to Beijing and was the home, office, and spiritual center of the Emperor and up to 3,000 concubines and other minions. The architecture is classic and elegant with a series of buildings built around courtyards.From the front to the back is a one mile walk. One isn't allowed into the buildings, but if you can fight your way there, you can peer into the windows and see dusty remnants of imperial China.

We recuperated with another "lazy-susan" lunch of eight courses at a restaurant overlooking a lake and then made our way to the Temple of Heaven, another 600 year old Imperial relic which was used by the Emperor to pray for good harvests about three times a year. This is a round three-tiered building, 125 feet high that was constructed entirely of wood without a single nail. Each piece was fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle and resulted in an entirely symmetrical and beautiful whole, situated in a 600+acre park.

We skipped the option of visiting a pearl market and headed back to our hotel for a well earned rest. The six of us had dinner at the excellent continental restaurant, The Courtyard, which overlooks the moat and walls of the Forbidden City.

We checked out of Raffles the next morning--Friday the 13th--both a lucky day and number for the Chinese, and headed for the Great Wall, some 90 minutes away. Leaving the city center we passed through whole new neighborhoods of massive high rise luxury apartments. It seems most buildings in Beijing are massive. There is some interesting architecture but more often than not, it's a bulky building with some kind of ornamental top and big Chinese letters across the front. I will say that efforts are being made at beautification with lots of flowers planted, formal gardens in the cloverleafs of highway exits and strip gardens where Imperial walls once stood. Nevertheless, you wouldn't call Beijing a beautiful city.

We arrive at Mutianyu, one of the sections of the Great Wall popular with tourists that is 50 miles out of town yet technically still part of Beijing. This section is farther out and therefore less crowded. Nevertheless, there is a long gauntlet of souvenir hawkers selling "I climbed the Great Wall" tee shirts---"one dollar; only one dollar" and similar stuff. We took a cable car to the top and there we were---on the Great Wall of China, one of the seven wonders of the world. While Betsey and I had both been to the Wall on previous trips, it is still incredible and impressive. Begun more than 2000 years ago and at its completion more than 6,000 miles in length from east to west, the Wall was intended to keep the Mongol hordes away from Beijing and the Silk Road trade routes. The Wall itself is a marvel but when you see it running along the tops of mountain peaks and you think of the labor and challenge in construction, you have to pause in wonder at what was accomplished by the 1/5 of the population that was put into service at the time to build it. Those Mongols must have been very fierce to justify this investment. We walked along the wall and climbed up into the guard towers and enjoyed the mountain views and seeing the wall disappear into infinity in both directions. Awesome!

Having built up a mighty appetite, we had another mighty lazy-susan lunch at a local restaurant. While many of the dishes we've had are similar, there are always some that are totally different from what we've had before and which reflect the local cuisine. For example, at this lunch there was a marvelous concoction of corn, wheat flour, and some other stuff that came out as a sweet, crunchy delight. Eggplant and onions in a brown sauce was another favorite.

This morning, Lily, our guide discussed politics a bit. She is 38, born after the Cultural Revolution, and seems imbued with the pragmatic spirit of the country. She specifically talked about the Nobel Peace Prize recipient from China and expressed the view that no one in China really knew him, so why does he deserve a Nobel? Could the world be trying to embarrass China? Discussing the one-child rule, Lily emphasized how important it is to control the population, and she seemed unconcerned about her television blacking out when a controversial CNN or other western news report airs (something that Barbara Friedman experienced tonight when a CNN report on a Chinese dissident started airing and the TV went black for 15 minutes) She feels she can watch or use the web for anything she wants unless it is anti-Chinese. In short, she has drunk the Kool Aid, and why not? She no doubt has a much better life than she'd have had under Communism, and she feels the trade off is well worth it.

In the afternoon we arrived at the Aman resort at the Summer Palace in Beijing where we are staying two nights. The hotel took over the guest pavilions built in the late 19th century for guests of the Emperor who, of course, weren't allowed to stay in the Royal Palace which was only for the Emperor. The pavilions are built around a series of inner courtyards and we have a traditionally styled room. All very peaceful and restorative. The fitness center and pool are wondrous, including some computerized gym equipment that seems like it's out of Flash Gordon. I choose to stay on the bike, followed by a good steam followed by a continental dinner in one of the hotel's three restaurants.

We were out early the next morning for a brief tour of the Summer Palace gardens. The hotel has a private doorway that opens into the gardens so we can skip the entrance queue. But even at 7am the crowds are coming. The Summer Palace (really a whole series of pagodas, pavilions, towers and covered pathways set in an area as large as the Forbidden Palace around a large man-made lake and treed gardens) was built in the 1750's by a Manchurian Emperor who sought respite from the hot Beijing summer. Destroyed in 1860 during an Anglo French invasion which burned the place in a three-day fire, the Palace was restored years later by the Dragon Lady Empress who pilfered the naval budget to do it. Unfortunately, in 1894 the Japanese navy destroyed the now-weakened Chinese navy which forced many concessions to the Japanese. Thus, one woman's desire for a summer house lost the country a war.

We returned to the Aman for a morning lecture by Annping Chin on Confucius which was a bit over my head but somewhat enlightening. What was fascinating was that this was a man who lived more than 400 years before Christ who is still quoted and whose influence still impacts Chinese ethics and political thought. It was enough to drive Jay and me to the gym and a steam while the ladies had a private Pilates session. After lunch we went back to the Summer Palace to explore some other sections which were serenely beautiful.

Late in the afternoon we returned yet again to the Summer Palace for a half-hour cruise on the lake. Then we had an eight-course dinner at one long table for the 34 of us in the French Japanese restaurant at Aman. Since we have to have breakfast at 5:30 tomorrow morning to get to our flight to the mountains and rice paddies in the southwest of China, I will sign off and send off this first chapter of our China trip blog.

Chile & Argentina-Part 3-northern Patagonia & Mendoza, Argentina

2011-01-27T14:18:00.002-05:00

We stepped out of our plane in Puerto Montt in Northern Patagonia into a sleek, new, modern airport and into our van for the ride to the Cliffs Preserve. A mile away we were driving through rural upstate New York farmland. The topography, plants, cows, and rundown farm buildings were virtually identical. It was remarkable to go so far to see so much looking the same. The only difference came about ten miles later when the road turned to dirt and stayed that way until we reached the Cliffs Preserve an hour and half later.

The Cliffs is within an 8,000 acre private reserve, all owned by a man in South Carolina. The driveway is 4 miles long and you descend from the hills down to the Ocean coast where the lodge and six multi-bedroom houses sit along the shore. Designed by a Chilean architect, it is superbly crafted to look rustic, yet modern on the outside, and natural and woodsy on the inside. All of the furniture was designed and built in Chile, most either on the grounds or nearby. There are only 18 bedrooms and on this day, there is only one other couple besides us and the Feinsods. Previous guests included Prince Albert of Monaco and Paul Allen is due next month. The staff swarm over us,and we make good friends with Luis, the bartender, who introduces us to a Pisco Sour with carrot which is delicious and at least sounds healthy. Later we have a really marvelous dinner with virtually all of the ingredients either grown on the Preserve or obtained from local fishermen.

Next morning we slept in a bit and faced our first really cloudy day. We took a two hour hike with Macarena, our personal guide who is assigned to us for our entire stay. We walked along the beach and coast and up to some high vantage points to enjoy the surf, cliffs, and wildlife. The whole look and feel is very reminiscent of our stay along the Garden Route in South Africa. Even the seaweed and rock formations are similar. We can spot sea lions, sea otters, but no whales today. Apparently the Blue Whales which go by here on there way to and from Antarctica are late this year. There are some major rock formations several hundred yards off the coast. In 1962 there was a major earthquake here and all the land between the shore we stand on and those rock formations out in the water was connected. It's fascinating how nature keeps changing the topography. Fortunately, we weren't standing there in 1962.

We had an incredibly delicious lunch made mostly with ingredients from the resort's own farm. Daniela, the young cook, is exceptionally good at mixing flavors and tastes. She could do well at Daniel in NY. Although fully sated by lunch, Betsey agreed to go on a horseback ride with me while the Feinsods had massages. We are not horse people, but when in Rome.... The ride started out fine with a slow walk down to the beach, but then the rain picked up (fortunately we were in windbreakers) and I decided I wanted to canter along the beach. Well, my horse thought I said "gallop" or didn't understand English and away we went, my prostate roaring in protest. I was eventually able to bring him under control with the help of our horseman trainer and we headed back, but not before we were led up and along a narrow ledge with essentially inches separating the horses hooves and the cliff. Betsey balked and the trainer led her back, but I just closed my eyes and let the horse do the rest. Well chastened, we returned in pouring rain to our house and hot showers and a roaring fire in our living room.

Dinner that night was a native affair called a Chilean Curanto. It's basically a way of cooking a lot of stuff. They put in a large clay pot shell fish, chicken, sausage, potatoes, a couple of green vegetables; they cover it with a damp cloth and put it in a fire pit of burning wood and hot stones; cover it with big green leaves called Narca, and then cover the whole thing with sod and dirt. It cooks for 90 minutes and tastes, eh, fair, I would say. They serve it buffet style with a whole bunch of salads. Before, during and after we are serenaded by the typical Mariachi band and teens and kids dancing in native dress with the boys spurs flying. They even got all of us dancing with them. Quite a night.

Next morning we woke to a dense fog and heavy mist, so a leisurely breakfast was in order. When the weather is bad here, there is virtually nothing to do but read, but determined not to let weather outdo us, Jay and I went with Macarena on a hike in the dense forest here. 90% of the plant life in this forest is endemic to the region and not found anywhere else. to be honest, ferns look like ferns anywhere and trees are trees. We saw a few birds but none of the puma that lurks in the woods. We returned to meet up with the ladies who did a bit of exercise in the gym and then enjoyed yet another leisurely meal at lunch. To spark things up Jay, Esta, and I made use of the large wooden hot tub outside our house near the beach. No jets or whirlpools, the temperature is achieved by a wood stove sitting in the tub. To bring the temperature to a reasonable temperature, add cold water from a hose. Betsey and I topped the day off with massages. Dinner was a bit of a disappointment as nothing on the limited menu excited us. Pre-dinner cocktails were interesting---Pisco Sours made with pineapple and Arugula. We continue to remark on how hard the staff works, albeit it with limited English, to please. Our waiter tonight practically cried when he misinterpreted our order.

Net, the Cliffs is a very nice place but its very limited activities make it a long way to come for simple beauty and relaxation. The next day we were on the other side of the Andes in Mendoza, Argentina, having left dense fog, chills, and some disappointment behind. Here it is sunny and in the 90's, and we are staying at Cavas Wine Lodge in the heart of the wine country and at the foothills of the Argentine Andes. The place consists of 14 casita-like suites in the midst of the vineyards, each with its own plunge pool and terrace and a view of the Andes. We had hors d'ouvres and wine on the Feinsod's rooftop terrace until the flies became too obnoxious and then had a fair dinner at the lodge. When we were about to sit down for dinner outside, the winds picked up strongly and lightening surrounded us. We beat a hasty retreat indoors and while it never really rained, when we woke up the Andes were very much snow capped. It was a beautiful sight in the morning with the snow on the mountains in the distance and the sun warming the vines and us.

At breakfast we spoke with the owner, a very young, handsome Argentinian of obvious wealth who came out to Mendoza with his wife in 2003 and bought an abandoned vineyard with the idea of putting a Relais Chateaux-type lodge here. He has succeeded. We talked politics. The graffiti we saw on the ride from the airport is very political in nature, unlike the "art" we saw in Chile. The economy, however, is strong, growing at 9-10% but the big problem here is inflation, now 25%. That is the country's challenge.

After breakfast we set out for a wine tasting day with our private driver, Jorge. We visited three boutique wineries. What is interesting is how young this market really is. They first started producing wine in Mendoza in the mid 19th century but it has mushroomed in the last twenty years as a result of the growing popularity of the Malbec wines, the primary grape grown here. Actually wine is the second industry here; oil production is older and much larger in monetary value. At any rate, we visited the Achaval Ferrer winery which has the most expensive and highest-Parker rated wines which we liked the least of all our winery visits. At Melipal, we not only toured the winery but we had a truly gourmet five-course lunch on the terrace with five different wines while the temperature outside reached 100 degrees. Each course was interesting in its own right and the Rib Eye was like butter. Most interesting course-- the sweet potato Creme Brulee. Reeling but game, we did the last winery, Sottano, and enjoyed a talk in the vineyard. Most of the vineyards put netting over 50% of their vines to hedge against hail storms which are not infrequent and can ruin the vines and grapes. The humidity under the netting does affect the grapes somewhat negatively so that's why they hedge with 50%.

Still standing but barely, we headed back to the Lodge for siesta. I took a dunk in the icy plunge pool and a nice four-head shower outdoors and will now veg out until dinner. Dinner was about twenty minutes away in Chacras de Coria, a Mendoza suburb of upscale gated communities, once vineyards. The secondary roads here are lined with old Poplar trees which in the early days shaded the grapes in horse-drawn wagons so they wouldn't overheat on their way to be processed. Dinner at Nadia was a six-course dinner with wine pairings which was a bit disappointing with barely edible Rib Eye but somewhat creative appetizers. We are beginning to roll into bed.

Our last day in Mendoza had Jorge driving us to two nearby wineries. Vina Cobos owned in part by the US winemaker Paul Hobbs is in a starkly modern concrete building and offers several brands which we found to be OK. We then went across the street to Ruca Malen where we had yet another delicious six-course, six-wine lunch, with all paired exceptionally well. Neither the Argentines nor Chileans have any fear of making odd-to-us combinations, like raisin and fig encrusted Rib Eye or cream of beets inside a carrot crust. Most of the time it works.

A couple of observations about the Argentine wines we tasted. They produce Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, and mostly Malbec grapes in Mendoza. Personally, I found the Chardonnays a bit thin and fruity, more like a Sauvignon Blanc. Refreshing but very light. We all enjoyed the different varieties of Malbec but preferred the older, more premium wines. We did not love any of the red or white blends. We very much enjoyed the Cabernets we tasted. While we did essentially the same tour in each winery, there are subtle differences to be noted. Some add yeast; others don't. Ruca Malen actually adds egg whites to the fermentation tanks, and the albumin attracts the stray impurities and brings them down to the bottom of the tank with it. Some leave the fruit on the stem during fermentation; others do not. Some use nets; others don't. And of course, there are differences in the soil, the altitude, the age of the vines etc. It's all very complex which is why I guess as a conversation topic, wine probably comes right after golf and politics.

Having now tasted,not to mention consumed, well over 30 wines in 2 1/12 days, we all succumb to couples massages and rest before our last dinner in Mendoza---purported to be the best yet. Well it wasn't. 1884, the restaurant, is in a large winery of a vineyard begun in, guess, 1884. I will now have had Rib Eye steak for lunch and dinner for two days, culminating in 1884. I found this one to be a bit tough, to be honest. Betsey and Esta, vowing to avoid steak for at least a year, had shrimp which they found mealy and tasteless. At least it was a very elegant and impressive setting. We had given up a tango demonstration and barbecue back at the Lodge for this, but had no regrets. After all, a couple of years ago we all saw or performed a pretty good tango demonstration.

Before dinner we had Jorge drive us through Mendoza proper, a city of one million. It was originally settled in the 1500's, but an earthquake in 1861 totally destroyed the city. Consequently, most buildings today are no more than 2-3 stories tall and built very solid. The most distinguishing feature of the city are the grand, stately trees that closely line every major street. Most are sycamores, and it is said that there are more trees than people in Mendoza. We also drove through a large park complete with Royal Palm avenues, tennis, a reservoir, and, of course, a carousel which has been entertaining children for several generations. A good idea for a park! The city is a bustling one, yet we conclude that we prefer staying in the midst of the vineyards at Cavas.

Now we are back in Santiago, the final day and a half of our trip, and we are back at the Ritz. After our lightest lunch in days (at Akarana), we went over to the Vitacura neighborhood which is Santiago's Rodeo Drive and wandered through the fashionable shops and art galleries. Betsey did a bit of damage and we found one piece of art we liked very much, enough to ask them to send us more information. We shall see.

You know the expression, "save the best for last?" Well, we apparently did because our last dinner on this trip is certainly our best dinner. Technically, I'd say we still thought our best overall meal was lunch at Melipal, but certainly we loved dinner tonight at Puerto Fuy. It is a fish restaurant, albeit a very sophisticated one, and Jay said he had the best Chilean sea bass he's ever had tonight. Maybe because it was in Chile? But no, this restaurant was truly special. Superb service, a sophisticated decor, and everything excellent, including "best bread" for this trip, a walnut and wine concoction that melted in your mouth. We did spend a good part of the evening reviewing our "best and worsts" of the trip; and we did reminisce about my Selk-Nam heritage, and we did have two bottles of wine and were feeling no pain, but this was the real deal. A world-class place to dine in Chile.

We spent our last morning by taking a modern. clean, subway with very clean pastel-shaded stations out to Los Dominicos, the last stop on the line. Here they have a recreation of an old village that houses dozens of artisans workshops and shops. There were some fine crafts and a lot of lapis jewelry shops, and we enjoyed strolling the grounds. I found several mementos of my Selk-Nam heritage which I will show to all interested parties. Back in our Ritz neighborhood, we had a very enjoyable lunch at Nolita, a bright, cosmopolitan place filled with modern and whimsical folk art. A nice way to end our stay. We are totally depressed about returning to winter, especially since NY has had four major snowstorms since we left and sub-freezing to below zero temperatures. Down here, we have had absolutely perfect weather 98% of the time.

To sum up our Chilean experience, I would say that we were all very impressed by Santiago which we found to be an interesting, attractive, and sophisticated urban environment with excellent restaurants, compelling architecture, and welcoming green spaces and use of modern sculpture. The Atacama Desert was an awe-inspiring experience and even northern Patagonia had its moments of beauty and interest. Mendoza was fun, wine, and food. While we were disappointed not to reach our primary goal of seeing southern Patagonia, we definitely shall return.

Chile & Argentina-Part 2-Atacama Desert

2011-01-19T20:39:00.002-05:00

We are on the move! Sunday, 1/16, we took an early flight to Calama, up north near the Bolivian border, and headed east to the Explora Atacama lodge. It was an hour's drive through what looked to us to be the surface of the moon. This is the highest and driest desert in the world, yet it is a living desert with plants and wildlife although it was about 3/4 of the way there before we saw a single scrub brush and one Guanacos, a wild llama-type animal. The lodge itself is in the middle of San Pedro, an oasis village of 2500 indigenous Atacaman people. Explora looks like something out of Frank Lloyd Wright. Very sleek but very simple. It is surrounded by 70 Andean volcanoes but "only" two of them are active. With our luck... We were given an orientation by a guide, selected our afternoon trek, and waited for our luggage.

Explora Atacama, like it's counterpart in Patagonia where we were slated to go, is a combination of wilderness excursions, active exercise, sublime scenery, and very comfortable but not luxurious accommodations. Of course, in between rigorous exercise you can get massages, take a steam, or lounge by the pool. But the emphasis is on active appreciation of the joys of nature and forgetting civilization. Indeed, there is no television or internet in your room, and no terraces since they want to encourage you to get out of your room. Because we are at base elevation of close to 9,000 feet, one must acclimate and they gear the activities each day to your growing acceptance of the altitude.

This is scenery we haven't experienced before. We've seen the white sand of the Egyptian desert but this desert is clay-like and rocky in shades of rose, tan, and taupe with the Andes in the distance. The main road is in relatively good shape although we notice many shrines to dead accident victims whenever we reach a curve in the road. After lunch eight of us headed out with a guide to Toconao, another indigenous village of about a thousand. It sits amid an oasis with a river through it and they are able to grow all types of fruits and vegetables. There is an irrigation system based on Incan methods. From there we drive to a national Flamingo reserve smack in the middle of a great salt desert. The ground here is carpeted with large jagged salt rock crystals for as far as you can see with a large shallow salt pond inhabited by scores of Flamingos. Interesting factoid---the reason Flamingos are pink is they only eat a tiny variety of pink shrimp. We enjoy the scenery and watch the sun set and return for a barbecue dinner, complete with unremarkable native dancers.

Next morning we are ready to take our first real trek. We choose a "low" altitude (9,000 feet!) half day 3+ mile hike into part of the Moon Valley. They are not kidding when they talk about the moon. This desert was used to test the landing vehicle that went to Mars.
It's composition is clay, salt, and gypsum--all soft materials so that wind and the rare rain keep it evolving. All of these deposits came from the Andean volcano eruptions that created these rugged hills which are constantly changing. Indeed, we learn that salt is active and we are very quiet so we can hear the large salt infested hills cracking and moving as it reacts to the sun and resultant warming and cooling at night. Who knew? There is also grayish sand blown in from an even drier desert by the strong winds.

Our hike takes us down a sandy dune and across a dry lake created about 1,000 years ago when the area was wet. We follow the dry riverbed through canyons, stopping to lick the salt every once in a while or admire the crystals formed by gypsum. The pace is a good one and we have to descend from a couple of 10-15 foot precipices which thrills Jay no end since he hates rock climbing (Is he wondering, "why am I here.") He and everyone else are good sports and we come out with a great feeling of accomplishment. We ultimately climbed through a cave and some further canyons before coming upon our van and a return to the lodge for lunch. The desolation (not a plant in sight) and the grandeur of the hills and rock formations and the soft pastel colors really have an impact.

Our afternoon trek doesn't begin until 5 pm because of the day's heat, so Arty hightails it to the pool for some laps while the others relax and catch up. The pool area is really impressive--four large lap pools in the midst of bullrushes in the oasis. Very cool.

Come the afternoon and we're off to another part of the Valley of the Moon. It's quite warm but because the humidity here is 3-5% it is really dry heat so no sweat. The skies are totally cloudless and I think of the snows up north every time I gaze up at the sun. But I digress. This hike is 4+ miles so on this day these old fogies will have done 7.5 miles. Not bad. This hike has its strenuous moments when we're edging along sharp rock embankments or climbing some steep hills. We march across a 1 1/4 mile dry lake bed that is totally flat and surrounded by steep craggy rose hills, and then come upon pretty stunning black sand dunes with perfect corduroy lines carved by the wind. Climbing some of these dunes is harder than scaling rocks. The scenery again conjures the moon with absolutely not a plant or animal in sight. Most of this was created millions of years ago yet every gust of wind or rare drop of rain or bursting salt crystal adds a subtle revision to the canvas.

Tired but jubilant we returned to our rooms and all jumped in for long, hot showers. It feels sooooooo good. A late dinner and then to bed. More trekking tomorrow.

Here is some perspective on life at Explora Atacama. The guests are a mix of Americans, Europeans and Latin Americans with a propensity towards middle aged Americans like us. Many are here involuntarily since they were slated to go to Explora Patagonia but the continuing unrest down there (still unresolved) has brought them here. Fortunately, this Explora is less well known and could accommodate them. We have also rarely seen so many people with IPads in one place. The three Exploras (Patagonia, Atacama, and Easter Island) are owned by a very wealthy Chilean entrepreneur who also owns vineyards, a snack food manufacturer and other businesses, but Explora is his favorite. His criteria for guides are interesting: he goes after people who have no previous guiding or tourism experience because he doesn't want jaded guides. Those selected have backgrounds in engineering, psychology, education, or the liberal arts. They get three months of intensive training in geology, ecology, first aid, culture, etc and then commit to Explora for at least 18 months of guiding. We find the 14 guides here very personable and interesting. they are all Chilean except for one American. Every day you can choose which treks you want to take and most do two half-day or one full day event which can range from horseback riding to mountain biking, climbs up to the volcanoes or visits to geysers or hot springs.
Each trek has its own flavor and scenery to it. Before you head out you stop at the snack table where there are bowls of nuts and dried fruits. Most treks have 6-8 people. All in all a very fun way to see this region's nature.

Back to trekking. This morning we choose a trip called, Cornisas, which is to the Valley of the Dead. We join another couple and Max, our guide, for a three mile hike along the cornices (plateaus) overlooking the valley. It is starkly beautiful in a totally different way than yesterday's Valley of the Moon. It reminds us of Bryce Canyon with lots of spikes but these seem more ordered and alike than Bryce's and more rose in color. As we look at the walls of the cornices you can see the layers of different sediments that created them as in the cross section of a slide. What's more, there are huge sand dunes here, brownish in color, and more akin to the Egyptian dunes we've seen but with the backdrop of the huge spiky towers. Here's the fun part. We had the opportunity to race down the dunes from the top of the cornice to the valley floor. Folks who did it in the afternoon yesterday spoke of very strong winds and cool sand. We had the opposite. I did it barefoot as had been suggested, only to find the sand intensely hot. It immediately brought to mind when I was a little kid living in Shippan and the brave thing to do was walk barefoot on the hot sand in the middle of the day. Determined to relive my youth, I stayed barefoot and ran as fast as I could. Even then, I had to stop every once in a while and bury my burning feet deep into the cooler sand. Betsey did it in stocking feet and the rest in their shoes, but we all had great fun. Oh to be young again!

As we approached our van at the other end of the valley floor, we met a group of American teenage girls with bikes and body surf boards on their backs. The kids climb up the sand dunes and then "surf" down. Apparently it's a lot slower and the hike back up must take some of the fun out of it. When we returned from the morning trek, Betsey and I got a ride into San Pedro to explore the town. That took about 30 minutes. The covered market featured unaggressive hawkers and the usual souvenirs; the town square was remarkably green, attractive and spotless with a small white church at its center; the dirt main street is lined with hostels, restaurants, and shops. A couple of them had very nice craft items and we did a little damage.

Back at Explora, we met Jay and Esta for lunch and we all spent a splendid afternoon at the pools, reading our books, Arty swimming, Jay hot-tubing, and all savoring the warmth, sunshine, and our good fortune to be there since we hear snow and ice are happening at home. After dinner we went to an astronomy lecture and then to Explora's own rather sophisticated observatory. Atacama has the best viewing capabilities in the world. Indeed, within two years, 70% of the astronomical observations will be done from Chile. Why? In Atacama, you have high altitude to put you closer to the stars; 325 days without clouds; low humidity; and the only country in the world which regulates the skies by law, limiting the amount of artificial light that can obscure the stars. And it's cheap. Tonight we have a full moon, the clearest, fullest moon I have ever seen; however, it's not the best for stargazing because of the moon's brightness. Nevertheless, we see Jupiter and three of its moons as well as constellations. Victor, our instructor is a graphics designer but does a very credible job.

By the way, we learn that at 4 pm today, the strikes in Patagonia were settled. The government gave in and natural gas prices will only rise according to inflation. Our die is cast but others here will be able to get to their Patagonian vacations.

Next morning we are off on perhaps our most ambitious hike yet--it's 3 miles but at high elevation---we will reach 11,574 feet. We drive 30 minutes towards the Andes amidst miles of spine-like ridges almost perpendicular to the Andes and crafted by the winds into neat rows and strewn with volcanic rock. Our hike is a steady up hill along what David, our American guide ( a natural resources management graduate) describes as the skirt of the Andes. We are walking along the top of a flat precipice that overlooks a narrow canyon (50-300 feet wide) with a river running through it ( at 2-10 feet wide it is much narrower than our Mill River but with a much greater surging flow. Indeed, we pass mini-rapids and waterfalls) There is a narrow line of lush green foxtail bushes and other greens that mostly obscure any view of the river until you're virtually on top of it.

After more than an hour walking up and over all manner of volcanic rock we descended to the canyon floor and walked alongside the river. At times we are completely surrounded and hidden by the large foxtails. Then we rise slowly until we reach our ultimate destination and reward---a series of hot springs pools, riffles and falls, complete with changing rooms and bathrobes, so we can rest our weary bodies in the 90 degree warmth of the river which is fed by the hot springs. The air at this altitude is quite cool, hence the bathrobes. Poolside we have a picnic snack of smoked salmon, cheese, olives, wine, fresh juices and Coke products. Nice. It was a wonderful way to end this strenuous hike.

Small World-twice: 1) It turns out that the Rooms Manager at Explora lived in Port Chester, NY and shopped frequently in the Feinsod's Hardware store. 2) On our morning hike we are joined by a Brazilian father and son. Although Brazil is a country of 200 million people, I ask the father if he knows the one person I know in Brazil. Of course, he knew Paulo Salles and was in YPO with him. Indeed, a very small world.

For our final hike at Atacama we choose the Cuchabrache Heights which takes us up a short but sharp incline and then along a narrow ridge. It's only the four of us and our guide, Magdalena, (business economics major) and as we walk the ridge, if we look to the right we see a wide canyon with a lush green valley underneath; if we look left we see a barren, volcanic rock and sand canyon. All along the way are volcanic rocks with holes, often surrounded by almost a perfect ash-colored circle. We learn that when this particular volcano erupted it was raining, and as the cold rain drops hit the hot ash and volcanic rock, the sulfites exploded and created the hole. Science lesson is over.

It's a beautiful walk along the ridge with sunshine, of course, but also strong, gusty winds that keep us cool. At one point off in the distance, Magdalena points to a section of the Inca trail with the ruins of a toll house and lodging for travelers. Later on, far below we see a shepherd herding his flock of sheep. It's the first farm animals we've seen. After two hours we slowly but sharply descend to the valley floor and meet our van. The van ride home is uneventful except that several times the dirt road crosses the river and our only bridges are the four wheels of the van. Nevertheless, we arrive home unscathed. We've done 3.5 miles on top of the 3+ miles this morning so we're feeling pretty proud of ourselves.

We shower and have a late supper, no doubt doing "bests & worsts" for this leg of the trip. I usually don't push people in these journals to visit places we've been, but I have to say Atacama is a very special place. Walking along that ridge this afternoon, I'm comparing what we're seeing to say, the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon is certainly magnificent and in some respects, its colors for example, it outshines Atacama, but here there is a certain splendor not only in the grandeur of the rock formations and the sand dunes but also in the solitude. Today and on most of our hikes, the only people we see are our own group. It is breathtaking to be able to view these natural wonders without a crowd of people or souvenir hawkers spoiling the atmosphere. I hope Atacama never becomes as crowded as the Grand Canyon, but international tourism here is only a dozen years old, so who knows how it will change. That's why I would urge anyone who loves nature and scenic wonders and who is able and happy to do hiking, or horseback riding or mountain biking or even camping, to come to Atacama sooner rather than later. It's well worth the trip.

Tomorrow we travel to the place that will substitute for Patagonia; it's is the part of the trip about which we know the least since it was a last minute decision. Will we find excitement, adventure, and pleasure? Stay tuned.

Chile & Argentina-1/11-1/28/11

2011-01-16T14:12:00.002-05:00

Santiago and environs
Craving some warmth and adventure Betsey and I, along with Jay & Esta Feinsod, planned a trip to Chile to explore that narrow country and its Patagonian beauty and the Atacama desert, followed by some wine tasting in Mendoza, Argentina. Winter's wrath in the form of what promised to be a 20" snowstorm, almost derailed us, but following Arty's mantra of--keep moving--we left New York a day early to escape the storm. It felt really good to walk into 78 degree temperatures and sunshine.

First stop- Santiago, a city of 7 million out of 17 million in Chile, so it's big. Located in a central valley along a river, Santiago in summer (which is now) has little wind so the smog is evident. But the city itself is modern, spotless, and with some notable modern architecture. It has a prosperous air about it---growth is 4.5%--but it does suffer to some significant degree from the global epidemic of graffiti. We checked into the Ritz Carlton and since our room wasn't yet ready, we walked the neighborhood which features some excellent contemporary sculpture and then had salad lunches. Massages were then in order for Betsey and Arty.

Dinner was a collaborative effort. Sandy Goldstein recommended, and we thoroughly enjoyed, Akarana, with a sophisticated menu using local fare. We also enjoyed a uniquely Chilean wine--Carmenere, a fruity red wine from French vines that are rarely found today anywhere but Chile. Daniel Melendez gets credit for calling this to our attention and we polished off a bottle without any trouble at all.

Next morning we confronted another beautiful day and headed with our guide, Marcello, and driver for a tour of the city. A little history. Chile was invaded by the Spaniards in the 1500s and the Communists with Allende in 1970 or so. At least the CIA called them Communists but even according to our guide they were not good people. In fact, Marcello's parents were marked for execution by the Allende regime for opposing it. However, in 1973 Pinochet, an army man, led a coup that killed Allende and there followed a right wing dictatorship which may have been worse for the people, but it saved Marcello's parent's lives. Marcello is thus conflicted about left and right and has not voted in any elections. In 1990 free elections were held and democracy was restored to Chile and now Marcello thinks it's ok to vote.

But I digress. We find Santiago to be a very attractive city with wide avenues, lots of trees and parks, and some stunning modern architecture, most of it post-Pinochet when the economy really started taking off. With copper prices soaring, Chile's major export is bringing solid prosperity today. We visited the Government Palace which is the office of the president and which was destroyed in the Pinochet coup but rebuilt; we walked through the main square and cathedral and visited a private museum of pre-Columbian art that was very well presented and impressive to see.

They have a unique retail experience in Santiago. It's called "Coffee with legs." These are shops where you stand up for coffee which is served by women in short, tight skirts. Apparently, some of the shops (which have blackened windows) have women who not only serve coffee in something less than skirts but also serve more than coffee!

But wait. Important news. At the pre-Columbian museum we discovered an ancient and cultural tribe of Chile known as the Selk'Nam. Who knew we may have long lost relatives here? Perhaps we are of the lost tribe. I bought postcards showing members of the tribe in quite revealing and formidable costume to share our heritage with my sons and brothers.

We ended our tour with a drive to the top of the park on Cristobal Hill for a panoramic view of the city and the Andes. Lunch was at the Central Market at a seafood place called Galeon. We had one huge Patagonian King Crab for the four of us which was more than sufficient. Back at the hotel, after a swim for Arty and relaxation for the others, we went out to dinner at Astrid & Gaston, a charming restaurant in a modernized old house, with Robin Stein and his Chilean wife, Silvia. They had just come down after Robin retired from 36 years working in the Land Use Bureau in Stamford where he guided most development there. We work closely together on our Mill River Park project. Robin and Silvia own a restored mansion Bed & Breakfast on the Chilean coast which was 2 kilometers from the center of the last big earthquake. They are again restoring the mansion.

Next morning, another beautiful day, and we were headed west to the Pacific coast city of Valparaiso, a ninety minute drive on a perfectly paved highway through foothills and lush valleys of crops and vineyards. Valparaiso is a port city but primarily the home of the Chilean navy which has a total of 26 ships but many land installations including academies, country clubs, etc. There hasn't been a war in Chile since 1879 (won against Bolivia and Peru) but the armed forces are big business in this county.

The city itself is built on many hills accessible by funiculars and elevators and switchback roads and sidewalks. What little charm it has is in the tin-covered colored houses, promenades high up overlooking the ocean and one significant French Mansard-like building, the navy building, of course. We had a tasty seafood lunch high up overlooking the ocean and then visited a small but excellent natural history museum where a very knowledgable guide took us through a history of the various indigenous peoples, including my Selk'Nam ancestors. We also learned much about Easter Island, thus saving us the 2500 mile side trip.

Afterwards, we made our way to Vina del Mar, a resort city nearby which was much more attractive. Think Naples Florida and Collins Avenue Miami Beach with a broad beach-side promenade and long sandy beach. We saw no one swimming as apparently the water is very cold so sunbathing and girl watching are the local sports.

We have had a bit of drama most of the day. It seems that there is a wildcat strike in Punta Arenas, the city we are to fly to tomorrow to begin our journey to Patagonia, and the strikers are blocking the roads from the airport. The government has raised natural gas prices 20% and this hasn't gone over well in the south. Even the mayor is striking. On our return to our hotel we are met by the president of our tourist agency who assures us all will be well. Right. At 11:30pm we get a call saying we are not going anywhere the next morning; the flight is cancelled. Unacceptable!

In the morning we learn from the web that all roads in and out of Patagonia are blocked, cars are burning, people are mad, and we are not going to go to Patagonia. Joyce Ackerman, our travel agent, and her men on the ground got on the case and in relatively short order we have rearranged our trip, dropping Explora Lodge in southern Patagonia, and adding the Cliffs in northern Patagonia. We will now head to the desert first and then go to Patagonia. We are a bit bummed as we had planned this trip for a year, but what can you do?

Do more sightseeing, that's what. We headed out and visited the Bella Vista area of Santiago which is a charming neighborhood of boutiques, cafes, and galleries. We had an awesome lunch at Agua para Chocolate (yes, "water for chocolate") with the ladies sampling their first Piso Sours, made with a Tequila-like whiskey, and the men keeping a watchful eye. This is also the neighborhood where Pablo Neruda's house is located and we take a guided tour. For those, like me, who didn't know him, Neruda was a communist politician, diplomat, and Nobel laureate poet and writer. He made the interior of the house like a ship's cabins and he lived there with his mistress, later his third wife. The place was sacked by Pinochet, days after the coup but has been restored today to a shrine-like condition.

We now feel we have "done" Santiago and return to the hotel to rest. For dinner we chose "Acqui esta Coco" (here is Coco, the chef). It was exquisitely designed with excellent sea food. The bathroom sinks were made out of huge carved-out tree trunks, thus winning "most unusual sinks" category in "bests and worsts." Early to bed for an early departure for the next chapter.

Greece--Part 3---Crete

2010-10-04T15:14:00.000-04:00

Bidding a fond farewell to our loyal yacht crew, the stalwart 8---Selkowitz, Dulaney, Lapine, and Feinsod also said goodbye to the departing Lotstein's and took a 55 minute flight to Crete, our final stop on this Greek Odyssey. Crete is a big island--the biggest in Greece, with a population of about half a million and a length of 175 miles. We realize we will never get to see the whole island in three days, especially since our hotel-- the Elounda Mare--is on one side of the island and the major sights are at the other end.
In retrospect we allocated too few days to Crete and we should have spent a couple of days on the west side of the Island, touring the sites there before heading to the east. We are staying on the east end for a purpose----after roughing it on the boat, we are looking for a little comfort. Like a real king-size bed, and a real full size bathroom. Elounda Mare Resort offers this and a whole lot more. Fred Dulaney was welcomed at the front desk as Mr. Dew-La-Nay, and I am sure we were all upgraded to two-bedroom bungalows with a great view of the sea and our own plunge pools because they thought Fred was a French Count. The resort is very beautiful and we soon decided sightseeing will take a back seat to relaxation.

Some of us took quick advantage of this with massages while others lounged at the small sandy beach or swam in the pool. For lunch the men decided they needed a hamburger fix, our first non-Greek meal and we had it at the hotel's "yacht club." Later we had cocktails in the living room complete with a lounge piano player doing the Great American Songbook and a very elegant dinner in the hotel's sea-view restaurant. We felt decadently American.

The next day, after breakfast, we met our driver and headed back west to the Palace of Knossos. But first a bit of history. Crete, which is only 30 minutes by plane to Cairo, is the birthplace of European civilization. It is the farthest southern point of the European geological plate which rose up to meet the African plate (so they tell me) and formed Crete. It was first inhabited 9,000 years ago with migrants from the Egyptian coast and it is the birthplace of the MInoan civilization which gave birth to European civilization. So we owe these guys a lot. Just to wrap up the history, the Cretans (as opposed to cretins) have led a tough life, having been conquered by the Greeks, Romans, Venetians, Turks, Nazis, and, after a relatively brief independence, a unification with Greece.

We are headed to the Palace of Knossos, built circa 1700 BC on top of an earlier destroyed palace and this palace was itself destroyed circa 1450 BC by an earthquake and subsequent fire and possibly the great Santorini volcano eruption as well. In other words, very old stuff. Our guide explained how sophisticated the Minoans were with indoor plumbing, and construction engineered to provide natural air conditioning and other 20th century conveniences. The Palace consisted of about 1,000 rooms. Today, unfortunately it has been the victim of a sloppy and ill conceived restoration under the leadership of one Sir Arthur Evans, a wealthy British historian who bought up all the surrounding fields when the palace was discovered, conducted excavations and did restoration work so poor that it is deteriorating today and jeopardizes the whole excavation. Strangely, the palace is still under private British ownership and the Greek government has no control over its administration. Evans does get some credit for having advanced our knowledge of the connection between the Egyptians and Minoans and where we all came from culturally. Though Knossos is considerably older than the ruins on Delos, we all felt the Delos experience was far richer for us, perhaps because of the purity of the Delos excavations and its vastness.

We moved on to the Archaeological Museum in Irakleio, nearby. Here are items found in the Palace and from earlier excavations that are remarkable in their resemblance to items we use today, e.g. tweezers, axes, picks, etc. The jewelry was pretty exquisite in its detail and intricacy and the pottery outstanding. All very impressive when you realize you are looking at items that were created over 3-4,000 years ago. Irakleio, itself, is the largest city on Crete with 300,000 people and it is mostly modern except for the Venetian walls and castle or fortress, built to defend the Venetian hold on Crete from the Barbary pirates and other predators.

We drove back through the mountain ranges with grove upon grove of Olive trees. This is obviously a beautiful island with great craggy mountains, rich red clay soil, and lush greenery as well as dry barrenness---all set against an ever present and deeply blue sea. It is too bad we wont have more time to explore the island.

We returned late in the afternoon to our hotel and some headed for the spa, others to the beach. I enjoyed a swim in the sea and some reading on the beach. Later Fred and I smoked cigars on our terrace by our plunge pool and enjoyed the splendid view. Dinner at the hotel. A good meal.

Our final day in Greece was devoted to free play. Everyone on their own. The Dulaney's and Selkowitz's opted to walk into the nearby village of Elounda which consisted of one street mostly populated by rent-a-car places. There was one art gallery devoted to the work of a Turkish-Greek sculptor who explained in great detail his process of combining marble with brass etc etc. Not feeling passionate about the work, we moved on and walked down along the coastline where we discovered two charming tavernas right on the sea. Eschewing our plans to have our last dinner at another hotel dining room, we opted instead for one last traditional Greek meal on the waterfront at Melissos and booked a table.

The Feinsods had already walked into the town so read at their pool and then joined us later at the beach. The Lapines rode into Agio Nikolaos, another nearby town for shopping and wandering and they, too, later joined us at the beach. We all walked to Melissos for a relaxed dinner on the water with traditional dishes and a last toast --yam as!!!--downed with ouzo. We did "bests and worsts" and reviewed our whole trip. We decided that the Cretans have a tough, abrasive side to them, no doubt then result of centuries of being invaded. Nevertheless, overall Crete is well worth a visit.

And so ends our Greek odyssey. It was a rich combination of ancient history, vivid colors, stark architectural shapes, sea-faring adventure, and simple but flavorful foods and tastes. Of Athens I can say that I've now been there and done that. Of some of the islands I could say the same. But others. Others have that mythological siren call that suggest we will come back to explore and experience more of what they have to offer.

Greece-Part. II-Cyclades Islands

2010-10-02T15:30:00.002-04:00

Well...Our adventure at sea got off to a slow start. We had a call in the morning that our schooner was delayed in arriving in Santorini and we were being treated to lunch at God's Garden and picked up at 3pm instead of 11am. Not so fast we said. No way were we going back to the "Garden." So Esta negotiated lunch at Lava, a recommended beach taverna which turned out to have very good local fare. We actually were picked up at 3 and taken to Oia and left at the dock. Unfortunately, there was no boat there for us. After a couple of phone calls, a small motor boat (a tender) arrived with a crew member with our boat's name (Alexandros Achilleas) on his hat. Hosanna! He ferried us and all our luggage out to the boat in four trips. It seems the boat was too large for that dock which is the only one you can drive down to; otherwise, it's put the luggage on your back and hike down the cliff.

When we finally reached our boat, we were relieved and pleasantly surprised. It's 84 feet, very heavy and supposedly very sea worthy. We each have our own cabin and bathroom (head) with shower. We pulled straws and Betsey and I got the smaller cabin which is really fine, particularly for short people. Relieved to have the boat here and be more than adequate, we chilled out on deck until we lifted anchor.

We didn't get very far. It seems the Port Police decreed that the winds were too strong for us to leave, so we have to stay in the Caldera harbor overnight and leave tomorrow morning. To entertain us we motored out a way to a little inlet near the original volcano.
Mark and I went for a swim---our first in the Aegean. It was cool and refreshing. I was content. Then we headed back near the boat's original mooring and tendered into shore in two shifts to a reaaaaaaaly local taverna. It consisted of a few tables on a concrete slab with a slope down to the water. The proprietors and only employees were a nice old couple who spoke virtually no English. The menu was very limited and the food adequate but we had a lot of fun, especially when our host did magic tricks using
Norman and Harriet as assistants. Weary, we returned to the boat and drifted off to our cabins.

Nearly everyone awoke having had a reasonably good night's sleep. It seemed windier than yesterday but somehow the captain got permission to head out and we did so after breakfast and a stop to load on water. At last, we were heading out to sea! We were headed to the island of Ios, about two hours away and the sea was pretty choppy, with 4-5' waves and a good roll. Indeed, several times people slid across the deck in their deck chairs No one got seasick which was not surprising since everyone except me had loaded up on some sort of sea-sick preventative, from pills to patches to electro-magnetic bracelets. We reached a cove and beach area on Ios and dropped anchor for lunch on board after Mark, Jennifer, and I did a bit of snorkeling in the refreshingly cool water.

While we were lollygogging in the sea, Norman was working hard on lunch. Normally, Norman's fishing is about the ones that got away, but this time he came up with four very small flounder that our chef cooked up for lunch, or as appetizers at lunch I should say. They were tasty bites and accompanied stuffed peppers and tomatoes, tuna salad, and local feta cheese, some warm, some cold. All in all an excellent lunch enjoyed outside on our aft deck. Several napped as we moved along the island's coast to its main harbor where we were docking for the night.

Ios is a large, relatively barren island with a normal population of 1800 which swells to 13,000 in the height of the summer. Homer is buried here for you Iliad fans. It was once covered with Oak trees but they were eventually depleted as the wood made for excellent boats. Ios' main village is atop the mountain as most are in these islands to protect against invaders and pirates. It has exactly 365 churches and most are opened only on their own particular feast day. I think they do a lot of praying for fish and tourists here. We hopped on a bus for the five-minute ride from the small port hub to the village and then wandered the narrow lanes bordered by bright white stucco houses trimmed in blue to an old windmill (there are many on the island) to watch perhaps our best sunset yet. Dinner was right there at the Mill restaurant and was very well enjoyed by all. Excellent local dishes including chick-pea balls and lamb filled phyllo cooked in a crock. It's the oldest restaurant on the island, dating to 1969 and the founder's son waited on us and gave us all the local lore. We returned to our boat at the dock. It has been a good day and I think all are relieved that the sailing (under both sail and motor) has not caused any serious maladies so far.

I should mention the color of the sea. It is a vivid royal blue and clear as can be, even dockside. If you look closely, you can see the fish swim by, thumbing their noses at Norman.

Next morning, after tasty feta cheese omelets on board for breakfast, we headed over to Naxos, a three-hour cruise under motor. Unlike yesterday, there is very little wind today which makes the journey smooth but leisurely. Naxos is the largest island in the Cyclades with a population of somewhere between 10,000-15,000 depending on which Greek with whom you speak. It is the most fertile of the islands with olive and fruit tree groves, potato fields, etc, and is the most self-dependent island in the group. It's history goes back about six thousand years, but the oldest existing element is a rectangular arch (if you can conjure what i'm describing) that dates to 300BC and marks the entrance to the harbor today. Forget what I wrote about the major villages all being on top of the islands. On Naxos the main village and most of the others sprawl along the coast, apparently because the mountain is so hilly and jagged. What is atop the main village is an old Venetian-built fortress that dates to 1207 AD which has been a private house since the 1700's and is today both a museum, and in the winter, the private home of the owners, a noble family of French, Italian, and Greek ancestry. An engaging British young lady gave us a tour and it was fascinating to see how a fortress had been turned into a pretty elegant home 300 years ago and still functioned. The entrance to the fortress was through an original massive cedar door which has not been closed since the Nazis left at the end of World War II. The Nazis were occupiers here for four years and seriously abused the islanders.

We returned to the boat for a lunch of fish soup, tuna that the captain had caught yesterday morning, and nothing from Norman who had regressed to his usual empty-fish bucket habits that morning. We then spent about an hour roaming the narrow lanes with shops, most closed for siesta (the men were relieved); never defeated, Betsey and I managed to acquire a delicate piece of sculpture by a German artist living on Naxos and made from Naxos marble, the same kind that was used for the Venus de Milo. We had planned to stop for a swim at one of Naxos' famed beaches, but the weather had turned dark and the Captain wanted to make for our next island--Paros, a short hour or so away.

It actually took us only 45 minutes and after a few drops of rain, the sun came out again as we approached Paros. We docked at the port village of Naousa which turned out to be bright white, very clean, and seemingly recently redone with new slate walks, a couple of fountains, and many outdoor cafes and shops. This is a resort village and it looks the part. We had a recommendation for dinner--Papadakis--and the men were sent out to find it while the women showered. The rest is a saga. Apparently Papadakis went to Athens to open another restaurant, and Mario took over and renamed it Mario's. We did find Mario's on a square but it was empty. A slight argument broke out from the restauranteurs nearby, one claiming it was closed; the other that it was open. We made a reservation to come back and wondered what we would come back to. Fortifying ourselves with cocktails on the boat, we went back to the square which was filled with people dining--as many as 150, the biggest game in town, and were seated by our host. We asked what restaurant this was and were told it was Ouzeri ton Naftikon. What happened to Mario's we asked? Our host told us he was Mario's brother and Mario was taking the summer off from his restaurant and the Ouzeri etc, had taken over. Be that as it may, it was really charming. Our table was under the stars and about six feet from the edge of the old harbor and the fishing boats, and the fish we had --one very large white fish of unpronounceable name, was fresh as could be and very good. We finished the evening off with a stroll in the town and a gelato to refresh the palate.

Life at sea. Our crew tries very hard to please and mostly succeeds. Stam, our captain, is in his mid-forties and doesn't speak English very well but knows his boat well which is the important thing. Lela,our cook and mate, is 46 and does an excellent job out of a very small galley. Bill, the first mate, is mid-thirties, speaks the best English and is very serious and capable. Andonis ,28, is on his second sea trip..."with people", and is full of fun,energy, and aim-to-please enthusiasm. The crew sleeps up front (although the captain usually sleeps on deck) and there are four cabins (two opposite two) and heads mid-ship. Betsey and I are aft next to the galley. To underscore that we are not living the life of luxury and are in relatively close quarters, both Harriet and Jennifer chastised their husbands for snoring only to discover it was Norman!

We had a lavish breakfast next morning because we were giving Lela the day off and having lunch in town, and then set off with a driver and van to Parikia, the main town on the island.Driving inland we saw how fertile this island is with olive groves, farmlands and terraced farming. Vineyards here are the more traditional design, and incidentally, the local house white was among our best choices so far. I should mention tomatoes, because everyone (who eats them) is raving about how good the tomatoes are on all the islands. They actually do look very luscious.

It took about fifteen minutes to reach Parikia and about an hour and a half to see the sights. Most interesting was the "church of 100 doors which is the oldest church in continuos use in Greece and dates to the 6th century AD. It was, indeed, in use as a small group of devout Greek women were chanting prayers, rather loudly, by the alter. The church had some beautiful architectural features and frescoes, and a garden blooming with Rose of Sharon, lime trees, basil, and jasmine. Sweet. We then searched for the remains of an old castle, said to be nearby, and managed to wind our way through several neighborhoods of white-washed houses, blue doors of several hues, and some vivid Bougenvelia bushes jumping out at us every now and then. We finally acknowledged failure and walked the shops of the old town, only to stumble upon the castle ruins. It was remarkable. This Venetian castle, built in the 13th century AD, used as its building materials the fragments of ancient Greek temples and other constructions. So the walls consist of rectangular,square and odd-shaped stones, many with architectural details apparent, plus the butt ends of fluted columns. The net effect is of a geometric piece of modern art - Nevelson-like, rising about twenty feet tall. Never saw that before. Off to the side you can also see how the newer houses were simply built on top of the walls of the old castle.

We returned to Naousa, walked the streets, and had a lunch of salad and Greek pizza at a tavern before boarding our boat and heading to Mykonos. It took us about 2 1/2 hours to get to the island and as we approached, it looked like the island was covered with white bee-hive boxes. As it turned out these were the cube-like houses of Mykonos which are different from houses on the other islands. They are a white cube, often with bright different colored wood balconies and doors and a small chimney-like structure in a corner. The island itself looks pretty barren and the main industry is partying.

The harbor was loaded with large cruise ships and we docked at the "new " port where private yachts are docked. It's a two kilometer ride into the main port town and we made for it shortly after landing. The town itself sits around a curved inner harbor with a small beach ringing it. The famous Mykonos white pelican (they city's symbol) sits on a perch and models for photos. The streets meander along narrow winding pedestrian lanes and I learned that a reason for this on the islands is that it cuts down on the winds for walkers and it also served to help escape from pirates. These lanes are filled with shops and shops and shops. Mykonos is a tribute to blatant consumption. We actually didn't consume. Instead when a few drops of rain came down we made for Kastro's, a wonderful bar in the "little Venice" section overlooking the sea with sonorous music and excellent drinks. A Joyce Ackerman recommendation, well done. We stopped in the musty folk museum, did a little more wandering in the lanes and then had the most sophisticated dinner of our trip at Le Maison de Catherine, another Joyce recommendation. It was expensive, but charming with a wonderful host and delicious food. We filled up on appetizers that were varied and special and skipped a main course to have incredible deserts. The tarte tartin was to die for, even better than my scrumptious chocolate something. It was by far the best thing in Mykonos. We really couldn't see what the hordes of tourists, descending from the many cruise ships and mobbing the lanes, saw in the thousand or so jewelry shops (or so it seemed) or Polo and Guess stores there.

As we approached Delos the next morning in a 45 minute cruise, the island looked like the moon dropped into a royal blue sea. Delos is the most amazing place you never heard of. It is the one of the three brightest places in the world based on 310 days of sun and a unique angle of the sun. It is the mythological birthplace of Apollo and thus the most sacred place for the ancient Greeks and the center of the circle (cylade) of the Cycladic islands. It is also the second largest archaeological park in the world and only 25% of its past has been unearthed. It is nothing less than astounding. Originally inhabited circa 2500 BC, it came on the scene in full force in 167 BC when the Romans declared Delos a tax-free port. At its height Delos had 30,000 inhabitants on an island a mere 5 km long with 75,000 ships calling every year. It became the greatest commercial center of the ancient world and was totally cosmopolitan with all nationalities welcome to settle there and do business. Who knew?

We toured with Antonis, our guide, who was a great historian, raconteur, and actor and considered the best guide on the island. He brought the city alive with vivid descriptions of life there. And you could see so much of life there because so much of it is intact, having been abandoned and neglected and eventually covered over with dirt and the winds of time until the French started excavations in 1873. You can walk on avenues with the original stones, walk into houses with large swaths of mosaic floors, sit on the original marble curved-back seats in the theater; see the cisterns and waterworks and grape presses for wine (the only crop grown on the island) and see where the ropes and chains eventually wore ruts in the marble well stones. The marble columns of the temples stand in sharp contrast to the dull brown landscape and blue sea. And way out in the distant reach of the town, a synagogue has been unearthed, the oldest outside the ancient Jewish world, complete with the Rabbi's marble chair. Just amazing. After three hours of absorbing all this, we returned to our boat for a fresh-as- can- be lunch of vegetables and newly caught fish.

A little over two hours later we arrived at Syros, the capital of the Cyclades islands and the former preeminent shipping port in Greece. In the modern era it was settled in 1823 by religious refugees and flourished until Piraeus, outside of Athens, took over as the port leader. Today Syros has a somewhat faded charm with marble-block paved streets lined with former mansions of the port's merchants and traders. Many today are second-rate hotels. More Marseilles than Mykonos. We docked right in the horseshoe shaped harbor, tying up at the dock which is ringed with outdoor cafes. We are about ten feet from the nearest bar. We walked the town, admiring the impressive town hall and a couple of churches, and scouting dinner sites before sitting on the wharf enjoying some drinks. We had a rather interminably long and average dinner and returned to the boat. Betsey and I are wondering how we are going to open our porthole when we go to bed without letting the bar patrons observations or noise disturb us. Strangely, we have air conditioned cabins but they turn the AC off at night when the generator goes off.

The crowd was the least of our problems. For some reason this night there was a creaking noise outside our cabin that sounded like a six-year old playing a violin for the first time. It kept us up a good part of the night. Then, at breakfast, while having breakfast on deck, four wizened men enjoying their morning beer and ouzo serenaded us with a loud drum and bagpipes and the worst singing. Where is Anthony Quinn when we need him?

We set sail for Athens, our final cruise destination. It was smooth motoring on quiet seas, and five hours later we arrived at Kithnos, a barren island with a population of about 2,000. It isn't a tourist destination and we found no yachts or cruise ships in its small but very quaint port. In fact, it was hard to find anyone there. Andonis took us on a tour of the little port town which took about eight minutes but he did point out the best taverna. It was located on the beach---I mean on the beach as we sat at tables sitting on the sand and ducks came up to welcome us. Lunch was simple but tasty and we enjoyed the hour-long respite from the dull pounding of the boat engine. The port itself had a lot of charm with white stucco houses topped with red clay tile roofs, a local product. When we returned to the boat our captain had caught a small octopus which excited Fred who loves octopus. Unfortunately, this one was judged too small and it was thrown back and we set sail (or motor, actually).

As I write this we are nearing the end of the final six or so hour cruise it finally took us to get back to Piraeus, the port city near Athens where we are landing. We had drinks on the aft deck and played "bests and worsts of the Cyclades" and that had a delicious dinner that Lela cooked as our "last meal." We are pretty much packed up and ready to go--Nina and Norman back to Connecticut and the rest of us to Crete, our final island destination.

Each of the islands of the Cyclades we visited (and there are many more) had it's own unique characteristics which made visiting each of them worthwhile. Some we definitely could have spent more days on and others the few hours spent were sufficient. Two things all of the islands visited had in common--absolute spotless streets with no graffiti and not litter at all and lots of cats.

We docked in Pireaus in pitch dark at 10:45 pm, nestling in between two yachts in a daring docking much to be admired. The marina probably holds over a 1 billion worth of yachts, most with Greek flags. If they sold them, the national debt would be well on it's way to being solved.

Athens & the Cyclades Islands,Greece 9/19-10/5/10

2010-09-26T01:27:00.002-04:00

Trip to Athens and the Cyclades Islands of Greece
September 19-October 5, 2010

Athens
It's been more than a year since I took up a pen so to speak and wrote of our travels. As I sit on this Delta flight to Greece,I realize how fast the world is moving. Most of the passengers in our cabin are on e-readers not paper books. Indeed, everyone traveling in our group has one. When I started writing these journals, it was with yellow pad and pen. Today I am on my IPad! We are headed to Athens and the Greek Islands and it will either be the best of times or the worst of times (kudos to Dickens) since the highlight of our trip is six days of sailing on an 84 foot schooner and most of us aren't the most seaworthy of sailors. Not to mention two hairdryers for five women. We are with our friends the Dulaneys,Feinsods,Lapines and Lotsteins. Hopefully we will become even closer friends in the close quarters of the boat. We shall see....

Arrived without delay in Athens and took a 50 minute drive to our decent hotel- the Electra Palace in the heart of the Plaka or old town and a stone's throw from the Acropolis. After a brief respite we hit the streets. Apparently my international sense of direction was a bit rusty because I led the group in the opposite direction from our destination--the Benaki Museum. Betsey set us straight and the delay was fortuitous because we came upon the changing of the guard at Parliament which was minimalist but impressive. The guards do a slow-motion goose step in miniskirted uniforms with big pompoms on their tapped shoes. Their faces show no embarrassment.

We lunched on the terrace of the museum and then toured its collection of antiquities which go back about eight thousand years. Hard to fathom that when I'm still amazed the '80s were thirty years ago! Dinner that night was a special treat--at Psaras--a rooftop restaurant with an impressive view of the Acropolis all lit up and a near full moon to grace our table. The food was delicious, the wine very local and the evening a lot of fun. We finished off with a walk in the Plaka (Norman and Fred securing Cuban cigars) and thence to bed.

Our first full day in Athens was indeed a full one. We met Nota, our guide, at the hotel and walked through the Plaka to the new Acropolis Museum. Designed by a Swedish architect, this is a superbly conceived building that houses the statuary and other stone pieces associated with the Acropolis. The building is made of concrete, stainless steel and mostly glass and is built over ruins of the ancient city. Most of the ground floor is glass so that you are able to walk over and see the restored ruins (if that isn't an oxymoron). Throughout the museum there is natural light streaming in from windows and skylights so that you can appreciate the contents in its natural light setting. Dots are a major design element. The glass floors are dotted to reduce glare and the concrete interior wall slabs are dotted like giant domino pieces to continue the motif. It's all very stunning.

On the bottom floors are elements from the original temples that sat on the Acropolis in the 6th century BC. When Athens became more prosperous and beat the Persians in the Marathon war, they replaced the older temples with the Parthenon and its companion temples. They built the Parthenon in about ten years in the 5th century BC. The Urban Transitway in Stamford is taking almost as long!

On the top floor of the museum is a life size representation of the Parthenon using stainless steel columns with the frieze pieces--actual and plaster casts taken from the pieces that Elgin stole which are in the British Museum (seems like a majority of the frieze) --suspended in place. It makes for a great visual and for reference you can look out the glass wall and the Parthenon itself looms overhead. All in all a remarkable way of appreciating the art and architecture of one of the wonders of the world.

The Acropolis itself is a wonderful vista of all of Athens from the sea to the mountains, and of course the Parthenon in the flesh is exquisite and impressive. We walked all around, took photos galore, and our guide pointed out the various ancient sites down below. Then, in need of sustenance and rest, we walked down to the restaurant, Strofi , where we had yet another delicious meal, this time of small plates and shots of some clear liquor that our host provided as a gift. Mellow and restored, we meandered back through the Plaka where some shopping occurred.

We had cocktails on the roof of our hotel which has one of the few roof-top pools in Athens and overlooks the back of the Acropolis. About a B+ sunset and nice to see the Acropolis come aglow as the sun set and the lighting came on. For dinner we opted out of the Plaka and took cabs down to the seashore to a small harbor ringed by outdoor fish restaurants. We took the concierge's advice and went to Zorbas turned out to be a real rip off and not very good with service that dwindled down to non-existent. We need to learn that European prawns are usually mealy and bland. The fresh-caught fish was well grilled but also in the bland category. We'll return inland tomorrow night. Memo to Joyce, our travel agent--don't trust this concierge.

Our last day in Athens began at the Jewish Museum, a short walk from our hotel. Jews in Greece go back about 2300 years with immigration from the Roman states. With the Spanish expulsion of Jews in 1492 a further influx occurred as the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire welcomed Jews because of their trade and professional experience. All went well until the Nazis invaded and managed to kill 87% of the Jewish population. Today just 5,000 Jews remain in Greece, mostly in Athens. The museum has a good collection of memorabilia and photographs as well as the main elements of the synagogue in Patrus which could not sustain itself after the holocaust.

The rest of the day was spent making a big circle around the older sections of Athens. we checked out the new subway station in Syntagma Square, Athens' central square which abuts Parliament. There was a bit of a demonstration there although it seemed to consist mostly of men sitting around with a couple of big signs and flags waving. Apparently the country's truck drivers who have had a monopoly on truck licenses are angry that the government wants to open the field to competition. We meandered through the main shopping street and flea-market type pedestrian streets before stopping at Hadrian's Library, a vast ruin that once was a testament to the Roman conquest and Roman absorption of Greek learning. Harriet Dulaney had the best comment looking at the library in ruins---"This is what happens when you don't support the library." (Inside joke for Stamfordites). We stumbled upon a lush green square with outdoor restaurants and negotiated lunch with the owner of Kapyatle--10% off and free fresh fruit. It was a very competitive square.

Fortified, we pressed on to the ancient Agora, the nexus of ancient Athenian life. Here was where the Senate met and the Assembly voted. Here were public toilets (we saw some potty seats), fountains where water was pumped up, and temples and other shrines. High on a hill is the nearly intact Thission temple in a stunning setting with drop-dead views of the Acropolis, built about ten years before the Parthenon was started. Thoroughly exhausted, we made our way back to our hotel for some rest before dinner.

Athens is not a pretty city but it has pockets of charm and beauty, usually tucked in with a little lane or steps up to a terrace. What mars the whole city is the horrendous graffiti that besmirches walls all over the place. Totally unacceptable. The city is a lot cleaner than Betsey and I remembered of our last visit in the 90's, but the graffiti really detracts from it all.

The city supposedly is suffering from 25% unemployment and great discontent. However, it is not very evident. Restaurants and bars seem pretty full with locals, the people we have come in contact with are all very pleasant and welcoming and there is no sense of anger or resentment that we anticipated from press reports. Even the supposed demonstration we saw was good natured and peaceful with police lounging around unconcerned.

Prior to our last dinner in Athens we had drinks on the roof terrace of our hotel and observed the best sunset of the trip so far. We had all been given bottles of wine as welcome gifts from the hotel so we made good use of them this evening. We opted for a local place for dinner, Iiopetro, a five-minute walk from our hotel. It turned out we were the only diners but the food was good, our Tunisian waiter was a lot of fun and we managed to have several toasts with local liquors provided by the restaurant. The women had a cinnamon-tasting liquor and the men several shots of some local stuff. We wobbly returned to our hotel to pack for our departure to Santorini in the morning.

Santorini
A short 40 minute plane ride takes you to Santorini, a large island that was totally re-formed 3500 years ago by a huge volcano whose caldera (interior wall) collapsed to form the natural harbor that creates a half moon bay today. Three quarters of the island disappeared in the volcanic eruption. We are staying in Perisa which is on the opposite side of the island in a very,very modest hotel. I must preface my remarks by saying Joyce Ackerman, our travel agent, recommended against staying at this hotel in this location, but it came with our boat charter and so here we are. Our accommodations are minimalist, resembling the barracks of an impoverished monastery. When Norman acted up a bit, Mark threatened to send him to his room, and Norman immediately behaved.

But it is very near one of the famous black sand beaches and we walked along until we found an outdoor restaurant and lunched on traditional gyros. We chilled out at the small pool at the hotel in the afternoon, and staged our own raucous cocktail party complete with grocery-bought cheese, nuts, and other sundries, Heavily fortified with gin, vodka, and wine, we ultimately repaired across the street to another outdoor restaurant recommended by our hotel desk clerk--"Gods Garden" (Not!). It was mediocre but convenient and we planned on a big day for tomorrow to explore the major town of Fira and environs. Tonight the sky is incredibly clear and we can see Jupiter as a small companion to the full moon. We know it's Jupiter because Jay has an ap on his IPad that tells you what stars and planets you're looking at when you hold the IPad up to the sky. Amazing.

The next morning many are complaining of poor sleep as we eat a meagre continental breakfast and grouse about our accommodations. But it's a beautiful day and off we go with Lazarus, our Greek driver who does his best to explain the sites to us. We head to the Red beach which is at the bottom of a steep cliff of red iron-ore infused mountain and is accessible only by boat or through a long rocky path. It's a pretty dramatic site, looking down on it with the red sand and neat rows of blue and white beach umbrellas to add some color.

The island itself is quite mountainous with the villages mostly along the top and steep cliffs heading straight down into the sea. The villages themselves are virtually all bright white with blue-roofed small domed churches. There are about 450 of these chapels on the island, built by wealthy residents and used for family cermonies. Whatever is plantable land seems covered with grape vines. Here they do it differently. The vines sit on the ground, not on wire trellises, and they are plaited into round circles. They do this to allow the grapes to absorb the dew and to stay low to the ground to avoid the cold and the wind. The wine, particularly the reds, are pretty decent although the whites seem on the sweet side.

Lazarus dropped us off in Fira, the largest town (the whole island's population is about 15,000). I would describe the village as kitsch with charm. There are hundreds of souvenir shops, hundreds of jewelry shops (with some very pricey jewels) and lots of restaurants, bars, and pastry places along the narrow lanes. The outer lane has stunning views of the harbor which is straight down hundreds of feet below. The only way to access the small docks and moorings where the cruise boats come in is by cable car or donkey. We do neither. It's enough to look down and admire the caldera.

Our first stop is the new prehistoric museum which has items taken from Akrotiri, a buried village that dates to the 17th century BC. The artifacts demonstrate a remarkably sophisticated civilization with highly developed art (there are wall frescos that are stunning), tools, and cooking utensils. We all wonder how they came to invent, for example, the saw that looks very much like the wood saws we use today. It is humbling.

We had lunch at Archipeligo which was recommended by Vince MacMahon's (CEO of WWE) secretary and was highly enjoyed by all. Then we just meandered with a few purchases made. Not wanting to return to the mediocrity of dining near our hotel, we chilled out at a bar with scenic views for an hour or so, did some more meandering, and then searched for a restaurant for dinner. Do you get the impression that food is important to us? We happened upon Ampelos, which was a real find with great service, interesting new appetizers and very tasty food. Fully sated we headed for the bus which we were told leaves on the half hour. Typical of what we've experienced in Greece, that turned out to be not true and the bus left on the hour and we had missed it. We squeezed into a couple of cabs and headed back to our hotel.

Our last day on Santorini was a long and good one. We thankfully supplemented the hotel's breakfast with donuts, pain au chocolate, and croissants that Jay brought back from his run. Mark and I bought relatively fresh orange juice in the grocery across the street and off we went. We taxied to Ancient Thera which was the original capital and dates to the 9th century BC and was subsequently and finally the home of 5,000 Romans before it was destroyed in an earthquake. They had to have good feet because this place is 1800 feet up a sheer cliff. Our taxi was exhausted getting up all the switch backs. The views from the summit were spectacular and the well preserved ruins,including temples, homes, agora, and theater give an excellent sense of what life was like there.

We noticed during our drive that there were a lot of unfinished houses dotting the landscape. Our taxi driver told us that houses take several years to build because during the tourist season everyone works 20-hour days with no time to do anything else. So during the winter (which is quite short) is when work gets done. Moreover, people need to save their money for a few years to build each subsequent phase of construction. The better houses on the island have barrel-vault roofs to improve air circulation and are stucco white, often with blue accent colors.

Tired and needless to say hungry, we set out from our hotel for a lunch on the beach at "Nets", a supposedly famous beach-side restaurant that our taxi driver said was a twelve minute walk from our hotel. Thirty five minutes later we stumbled into the restaurant. Fortunately the food was tasty and we did manage to see (and pass) every beach front bar and restaurant and black-beach beach club along the way.

Well fortified, Lazarus drove us into Oia, the second large town, and for me, the most charming. It is where Mamma Mia was filmed and has the classic cliff-hugging white stucco houses at all levels with very narrow pedestrian-only lanes lined with chic an not-so-chic shops. The town was mobbed when we arrived near sunset which is one of the prime events of the day. It got a bit claustrophobic and the sunset was less stellar than they and we would have hoped, but a good time was had by all. We did have a delightful dinner at Nectar Ambrosia with excellent food, a cozy bistro-feel, and of course a good view. The walk back to meet Lazarus was even more pleasant since many of the sunset worshippers had departed. We arrived back at the hotel and face our departure on our 84 foot schooner with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Will the boat arrive? Will it be habitable? Will the seas be kind? Stay tuned...

Post-Fascist tour of Berlin & Vienna--Part 2- Vienna

2009-05-08T17:31:00.001-04:00

Vienna
It was a short flight from Berlin to Vienna and Christian, our guide for the next day, met us at the airport although he never told us he was going to be our guide until we reached the hotel. Strange. Anyway, we are staying at the Bristol which has an excellent location across the street from the Opera but wasn’t quite the Adlon. Our room had an elegant long hall that led to a pretty short bedroom. And the breakfast room was decorated in pure Russian Modern….awful. No matter. We set out on a cool and drizzly morning to spend half a day with Christian, a very knowledgeable, proper and proud Viennese, to see some of the sights. First impressions of Vienna are that it’s a beautiful Baroque and Rococo city (Christian calls it “eclectic”) that is filled with museums and palaces that bespeak the glory of what was the Austrian empire.

Our main destination was outside the city to the Schonbrunn Palace, the summer residence of the Habsburg royal family, but on the way we pass by Hayden’s house, and the rooms that Beethoven kept in an attic of a house, and the café where Freud ruminated on the psychoses of the Viennese. Schonbrunn was where most of the court business took place because it was during the summer months that travel and the conduct of affairs was most efficient, given the hard winters and lack of decent transportation. It is a grand palace, right up there with the Versailles of the world. It also makes you realize how the English Royals are pikers with Buckingham Palace which is about the size of Schonbrunn’s stables.

We toured the royal apartments which reflect the various ornate tastes of the royals who lived there and admired the gardens which sit among 450 acres of park surrounding the Palace. The gardens are particularly beautiful with fountains and pergolas and a majestic arch-like structure off in the distance that salutes Empress Maria Theresa who had the palace completed.

Driving back we stopped at St. Stephen’s Cathedral which was built in the 14th-15th centuries in Gothic style and which was meant to hold 5,000 worshippers, though at the time Vienna’s total population was 4,000; nevertheless, the Habsburgs wanted to make a statement that Vienna had “arrived” and indeed it had. Once Christian dropped us off we took off on our own and visited the nearby Karl’s Church which combines architectural elements from the Greeks, Romans, and Moors and is impressive on the outside but destroyed on the inside by crass commercialism. They charge you 6 Euros to get in which includes going up in the “tower.” The tower turns out to be a steel erector set-like structure practically in the middle of the sanctuary with an elevator that takes you up to near the top of the dome and then you (I) walk up several flights of stairs to look out the top which has wire-covered windows that give you virtually no view. We should have stayed outside.

Vienna is, above all, a city of music, and the proof is everywhere. There are concert halls galore, the Opera House, theaters, and statues in tribute to Mozart, Strauss, Shubert, Beethoven, etc. When in Rome…..we had secured tickets to the Opera to see Die Walkure, part of Richard Wagner’s Ring Cycle. Wagner was Hitler’s favorite composer and his operas are very long, so we had our doubts about seeing a Wagner opera, but we thoroughly enjoyed it. They have a curious custom here that the opera always ends at 10:15, no matter how long it is, because Emperor Franz Joseph wanted to be home by then. So the start time depends on the length of the opera. In our case, it was 5:30 so we had a 4:00 “lunch” at the Red Bar in the Sacher Hotel behind the Opera House. We gave wiener schnitzel one more try, and this time it was quite good and far superior to its Berlin example.

We had prime seventh row orchestra seats in this Opera House which is very intimate compared with the Met. When it was opened in 1869, it was panned so badly because of bad acoustics and design that one of the two architects committed suicide. It was bombed during the war and rebuilt with what are considered excellent acoustics today. You can see where old and new sections are as there are several rooms off the hall where you can go for an apertif or snack or desert. The older sections are very ornate and rococo and the newer ones have more of a deco feel. With each intermission lasting a half hour, you can accomplish a lot.

We loved the music of the opera and the performances were excellent. It is very powerful and martial which gives some clue as to why Hitler loved it. After the opera we had a Sacher torte and apple strudel at Café Mozart, behind the Opera House. Sacher tort, (so far at least) is overrated….dry.

I’ve been having alarm issues with my new watch (Jay and Mark will understand) so I woke up a bit late but managed to get in a decent run along the Ringstrasse (half circular boulevard that replaced the old walls) and around the gardens of the Winter Palace. Betsey and I then headed for a rehearsal of the famous Lipizzaner stallions at the Spanish Riding School. It’s actually part of the Winter Palace in a quite palatial riding ring complete with crystal chandeliers and two-tiered seating gallery. The horses dance to Strauss waltzes and the riders are in tailcoat court uniforms. I had a sudden insight that men’s tails come from the period when men mostly rode horses, dividing their coats into “tails” so they fit on either side of the saddle. Am I coming to this late in life?

From there we went next door to another part of the palace (the Winter Palace has over 2,000 rooms!) to see the Prunksaal, the court library, dating from the early 1700’s. This is the largest and most magnificent Baroque library in Europe with 2.6 million bound volumes and extraordinary grand design. We also happened to be there for a fascinating exhibit of 17th century maps, globes, and atlases.

We paid our obligatory respects to the Jewish quarter. It seems the Austrians kicked the Jews out of Austria not once, but twice. In 1421 the Jews were expelled from Vienna and their one synagogue was destroyed. We saw the ruins of it which are located beneath the reconstructed Juden Platz (square) where an unemotional square box of sculpture made to look like volumes of books has been dedicated as a Holocaust memorial. We then took a circumnavigational route around the old city area until we made our way to the Café Landtmann where we feasted on Beef Goulash and Bread dumplings (yes, even Betsey) and understood why this was Freud’s favorite café. An interesting tidbit about the Cafés. It seems the Viennese developed their taste for coffee when they expelled the Turks in 1683. The Turks left behind huge stores of coffee beans. Since Viennese homes were small, the cafes developed to enjoy the new coffee discovery in a social environment.

Renewed and refreshed, we headed for the royal apartments of Emperor Franz Joseph and Empress Elizabeth in the Winter Palace and learned all about this eccentric woman who had hair down to her knees (and had it combed for three hours each day), became increasingly depressed (no wonder, she was also married at 15 to her first cousin, Franz Joseph) and ultimately was assassinated by an Italian anarchist in Geneva. Being royal wasn’t all fun and games. But we did enjoy the splendor of the royal tableware collection of silver, vermeil, porcelain, and fine china galore. The display is pretty extraordinary.

Gluttons for punishment we made one more stop, at the Albertina Museum, yes, still in the Winter Palace, which had an interesting exhibit of 80 Rembrandt oils, etchings, and drawings juxtaposed with some of his Dutch contemporaries. Then a quick tour of the Albertina’s collection of paintings from Monet through Rothko, and back to the room to collapse for a while.

We went native for dinner, eating at Ofenloch, authentic Viennese in the old quarter and on the site of a 13th century Jewish bathhouse. I went all the way and had a native specialty, boiled beef with horseradish and applesauce. The beef looked and tasted like my college’s mystery meat, but the rosti potatoes were excellent. We walked back through a major pedestrian section that was alive with people. It was in marked contrast to Berlin which has more than a million more population but because it is so large, doesn’t have the feeling of being as active and alive at night as geographically much smaller Vienna.

My alarm worked the next morning (although I was up every half hour from 5am to check it), and I had a really nice run through the Stadt park, down alongside the very feeble Vienna River to the much more abundant Danube canal. After breakfast we spent the entire morning at the Belvedere, the summer palace of Prince Eugene of Savoy, the hero commander of Austrian forces who vanquished the Turks in 1683. I should say two palaces---the lower Belvedere palace is simpler in style. Up a long hill through very elaborate formal gardens one comes to the upper Belvedere palace, considered to be one of the most beautiful Baroque buildings in Europe. This was all quite a reward for evicting the Turks. Both palaces are now art museums; the upper houses mostly Austrian art from 1900 and includes the largest collection of Gustav Klimpt paintings (which actually doesn’t amount to many pieces). It is here where Austria’s Mona Lisa—“the Kiss” by Klimpt sits in splendor. It is a magnificent painting in oil, gold and silver leaf and it dazzles in its beauty. It is carefully protected in a special glass case that no doubt shoots you if you come too close.

We are lucky that the lower Belvedere has a special very comprehensive exhibit of the famous Art Nouveau Czech painter, Alfons Mucha. It’s wonderful show that shows how Mucha extended his breakthrough nouveau style to the whole range of functional art. He became famous for designing posters for advertising but also designed jewelry, furniture (which unfortunately was rarely produced but the designs looked wonderful) and even silverware. It was a great treat as early in our art life and in our Victorian house we were big fans of his.

Getting hungry we headed to the Naschmarkt, a string of food stalls with one side a long row of snack bars and the parallel side rows of food markets. We actually ate at Li’s Chinese Cooking which was very tasty and a good break from the Austrian cuisine. Fortified we hit one more art scene---the Secession, a unique exhibition space done in the Viennese Art Nouveau style. It looks a bit like a Moorish temple except the round dome on top is in gold sculptured flowers. We see here the remnants of a frieze that Klimpt did for the space which was a tribute to artists who “seceded” from the traditional style. Since a good part of the frieze is missing and they charged us seniors 4 euros to get in, it was a bit of a disappointment. Indeed, all the museums here and in Berlin are extremely expensive. At least in Vienna many have a senior rate (we should enjoy something from getting old) but Berlin, never.

We had a treat when we made our last stop, at the Stadtpark where I had previously run. I noticed in the morning they were setting up for some kind of event, and we were not disappointed. Amidst the statues to famous composers and artists was a major food festival where all of the best food products from Austria were on display and sale with samples for all. The park was filled with people on this beautiful sunny day, tasting the salamis, cheeses, jams, sausage, wines, liquors, pastries, breads, and such. It was fun to wander and observe. We stopped for a snack at the Opera café where Betsey encountered our first really rude and arrogant waiter. She asked if they had coffee with ice and he said “yes, Iced Coffee.” When it came it had coffee and ice cream (which Betsey can’t eat) and when she protested he shouted at her and was totally obnoxious. He finally relented and brought her warm coffee with two ice cubes (“cold coffee”) and charged us for the more expensive “iced coffee.” Future travelers take note.

We did much better for our last dinner in Europe. We dined (in the truest sense of the word) at Steirereck, considered to be the best restaurant in Vienna. Indeed, it ranks in our opinion with the best in Europe. It was superb, from the beautiful setting—a room with an undulating ceiling with sculptured flowers and pencil spotlights for each table---to the attentive service, fine tableware, and very interesting and excellent food. Of note, the bread cart which features eight or more choices of breads, all excellent. Incidentally, we have had marvelous dark bread all over Berlin and Vienna. Also of note—the cheese trolley which I, of course sampled, with at least 40 different cheeses and Betsey’s dessert, frozen rhubarb and lemongrass ice. All in all a wonderful end to our vacation

If I were to sum up my feelings about Vienna, I would say that it is a beautiful period piece. The Baroque and Rococo architecture is extraordinary and the city has a consistency that is probably comforting but does give one a feeling that the city is a theme park stuck in time. After a while the décor of the city almost becomes kitsch. It is a city of music and one can easily revel in it. While there is surprisingly no evidence of street musicians, which, for example, abound in Krakow, there are concerts every night ranging from symphony to opera to chamber music.

Thinking about comparisons between Vienna and Berlin, and perhaps the Austrians versus the Germans, I suspect that if I came back to Vienna in ten years, it will hardly have changed; whereas if I came back to Berlin, I might not recognize it. Both have their virtues, but I prefer Berlin. Christian, our guide, also had an interesting observation about the Austrians. He said the Austrians who lived during the war, still think they lost it; while the next generation is just beginning, perhaps, to deal with the guilt and accept some responsibility. There are virtually no markings about World War II here. The only one we saw was a Soviet War Memorial, and apparently the Austrians hate it because they saw the Russians as their conquerors. In Berlin, you can’t walk two blocks without seeing some kind of memorial or mea culpa about the war. It seems the Germans have been openly dealing with it, and the Austrians are still in denial or suppression.

Both cities should be on one’s must-see list, but for me at least, Berlin is the city to which one should plan on returning.

Post-Fascist tour of Berlin & Vienna--Part 1-Berlin

2009-05-05T16:45:00.002-04:00

Berlin
It’s been quite a while since I’ve done a journal on a major city trip, so if I occasionally slip in mention of a zebra or swimming in the Adriatic, you’ll know I’m daydreaming. This trip is unusual in that we’re focusing on just two cities, with storied pasts—Berlin and Vienna, and we’re wondering how they fit into the 21st century. Betsey has never been to either city, and I was in Berlin barely for one day on business in 2000. Hence, we’re both newcomers.

The first thing that strikes me as we’re driving in from the airport is how Europe, or certainly Berlin, has totally adopted the small car. Most are minis and it’s the taxis that are still standard Mercedes size and not much else. They must be exporting all the big BMWs and Mercedes’ other than for limo use. The other impression is that this is a very bike-friendly city with almost every street accommodating a bike lane and many people using them for transportation more than sport.

We are staying at the Adlon, a famous hostelry built on the site of its namesake that was bombed and demolished in 1945 and rebuilt in 1997. We are in the old East Berlin district, right next to the well restored and famous Brandenburg Gate which we have a view of from our window. Since our room wasn’t ready when we arrived we (actually Betsey) had a Starbucks (right across the street) and took a walk. The hotel is next to the new American Embassy which is quietly impressive and surprisingly not barricaded. Behind it is the Holocaust Memorial.

The Memorial is a square block of 2711 varied height and size rectangular blocks of dark grey smooth stone, aligned in perfect rows. These “caskets” brought to mind an impressionistic view of the famous Jewish cemetery in Prague. The place has a sober and quiet dignity to it. A German man asked if I would take his picture and then asked if we were Jewish. When I said,” yes”, he immediately apologized for “what we did to you.” We were a bit taken aback but thanked him for his acknowledgement. Underneath this Memorial are dark chambers where imbedded in the floor are poignant quotations from letters or scraps of messages that Holocaust victims left behind. There is also a well-written chronology, quite blunt in its candor, which tracks the Nazi genocide. What was most satisfying were the many German youths who were visiting the Memorial and paying close attention to the meaning and the messages being delivered. Let us hope….

Immediately west of the Brandenburg Gate stretches the Tiergarten, the largest park in Berlin (should be great for jogging). We took what turned out to be a long walk to Siegessaule, a triumphal column in the middle of five intersecting avenues. Then, planning to head back to the Adlon, we took the wrong avenue and ended up walking for two hours around Tiergarten and through the embassy district which was tiring but interesting. Since Berlin only became the capital of unified Germany in 1991, the embassies are mostly in new and architecturally interesting buildings, reflecting the cultures of the delegations. We grabbed lunch at Potsdamer Platz, a zone of modern buildings, and taxied back to the hotel for some rest. Napped and somewhat revived, we had dinner at the Lorenz Adlon in the hotel, a Michelin one-star that plied us with numerous amuse de bouche and a fine European lobster dinner. Sated, we strolled around Pariser Platz and admired the Brandenburg Gate lit for the night.

Next morning, I had a nice run in the park. In Germany it seems there is an appreciation of the “natural” look of the landscape. So in the Tiergarten there is much forest and long grasses and very little of the more formal look of a Central Park or Hyde Park. We notice this throughout the day as lawns are not well weeded and left to get long and gardens are more au natural rather than planted in formal beds. All over the city are blooming Chestnut trees and lilacs so this is a perfect time to be in Berlin. It’s also asparagus season which is being offered in hundreds of different ways and everyone seems to be enthralled with eating. But I digress…

We were delayed a bit in the morning when the elevators in our hotel were put on hold until Prince Charles left his room. Didn’t see him. After breakfast, we met our friends, Dominique and Marie Claire from France who were joining us for two days. We met Nirit, our guide for the next two days and took off. We are seeing sights sort of backwards because tomorrow is May Day, a holiday, and some places will be closed.

So today we are focusing on Jewish history. We visit the site of the first synagogue, long since demolished and the areas where Jews were rounded up. The “new” synagogue replaced the original and was the second largest in Europe (after Budapest). What is left of it today is the entrance foyer and dome and fragments of the bimah and ark. You look out the glass back and see the outline of the very large sanctuary. It makes you realize what was once the size and grandeur of the German Jewish community. We walked through part of the old Jewish quarter that now houses boutiques and art galleries and had a light lunch in the western sector among high fashion stores (which we didn’t visit) and then headed for Potsdam.

Potsdam is about 30 minutes from central Berlin, and we drove on the highway (so straight that it was used as a raceway and the old stands still line part of the road) that was the corridor from Berlin through East Germany to West Germany. We stopped in Wannsee, a lovely, upscale residential area on a large lake, which was the site of the notorious Wannsee Conference where Hitler’s henchmen developed the specific execution of the plan to exterminate the Jews. The villa in which they met is now a museum about the meeting and its consequences. I must say the Germans are taking care to ensure the future generations of its citizens are reminded of the atrocities of their ancestors. The meticulousness of the Germans in their plans is truly appalling and to think they did all this planning in a beautiful villa overlooking gardens and a peaceful lake.

We drove through Potsdam which looks to be a cosmopolitan and handsome town and stopped at Sans Souci, the palace of Frederick the Great. It’s rococo in style and reminded me of a smaller version of Peter’s Palace outside St Petersburg. Back in central Berlin, Marie Claire, Betsey, and I stopped off at the KaDeWe department store, the largest in Europe, which has a food hall to rival Harrod’s. Speaking of food, we had a true gourmet dinner in a stunning, modern setting with lots of Champagne and good wine at Vau.

I didn’t sleep particularly well so at 6:30 I took off for a run. This is a very good running city, but it was a bit eerie running a circle around the Reichstag (Congress Hall) and being the only human being in sight. The Reichstag was burned in an alleged Communist plot that brought the Nazi’s to power, and it sat as a shell until shortly before Germany was reunified. Now it has a marvelous glass dome that you can walk around and up to the top. We will do that anon. In the meantime after breakfast with Marie Claire and Dominique we met Nirit and headed out to see the sights.

A word about Nirit. She is Israeli born, former air force, and came to Germany at age 22 (she’s now 47) with a German boyfriend. She’s very knowledgeable, particularly about Berlin Jewish history, and has a sharp tongue and irreverent sense of humor. She apparently guides many prominent Israelis around Berlin and was a most entertaining and enlightening guide.

We start our day’s journey with a stop at the site of Hitler’s bunker. It was destroyed by the Russians who didn’t want any Nazi shrine worship to occur and is barely a block away from where the Holocaust Memorial is placed (which, ironically, is located in part where Goebbles’ house was). All along the avenue that once housed all the Nazi offices are markers showing what the buildings looked like and which monster presided there. All of these buildings were destroyed by the allied bombing and replaced in the ‘80s with East German-modern apartments.

We drove past the quite architecturally interesting new buildings of the current government next to the Reichstag and then went to the largest railroad station in Europe, a dazzling glass and steel structure. Speaking of largest, Berlin has the largest geographic area of any city in Europe and yet has a population of only 3.4 million. You can feel the quietness and a bit of barrenness in this city. No trouble finding parking spaces.

We made several stops to see various aspects of the notorious Berlin wall. The official memorial retains a large section of the wall that was actually two walls with about a 50 foot “death zone” in between where many an escapee was shot and killed. It is quite stark, and throughout the city you can see a cobblestone line that marks the border between east and west. In many places there is simply grass where the death zone was and in other areas the death zone is the site of new buildings. We made the required stop at Checkpoint Charlie which is a tourist trap and then visited the large section of the wall which was painted by different artists and subsequently liberally graffitied. Poignant, rude, and funny messages intermingle.

There is another very simple, beautiful and sad memorial to the victims of the Nazis and the Communists that sits in a former classical palace guardhouse near Museum Island. It is a Pieta-like sculpture by Kathe Kollwitz which sits in stark simplicity under a dome open to the sky. Nearby is the massive and impressive Protestant Cathedral (we didn’t do everything Jewish!).

But what we judged to be the most moving of all memorials is a bit out of town in the neighborhood of Grunwald. Here the Jews of Berlin were taken to a railroad siding and sent to the camps. Of the 500,000 Jews of Berlin, about half were deported and killed and the rest were able to emigrate or escape. The original train tracks are there and naturally rusted steel grates sit on top of the platform, each one inscribed with the date, number of Jews, and destination of each transport train. Nirit tells us she has brought people here who could identify the date and train they left from on this platform. It is a devastating site in the middle of a sylvan, quiet neighborhood.

It was a subdued drive back to the center but we cheered up when we saw all the picnics going on in the Tiergarten in celebration of May Day. Many groups had whole lambs roasting on spits (despite the “no grilling” signs all over) and it looked like the whole city was enjoying itself in the sunshine. We kept going and did one of the museums on Museum Island, enjoying really only the French Impressionist work.

We ended the day by strolling west of the Brandenburg Gate where we listened briefly to a May Day rock concert, had a snack at the hotel café and bid the Bach’s adieu. Betsey and I dined or, more accurately, ate at Lutter & Wegner, an authentic German restaurant dating from 1811 which featured weiner schnitzel, which was, well, weiner schnitzel.

Saturday was a glorious and exhausting day. Started with a fine run along the Spree River where I saw nary another runner. Then we headed to the Jewish Museum. Designed by David Libeskind as an emotional statement that physically creates some disorientation to mirror the dislocation of the Jews, the exhibit of the history of the Jews in Germany is presented in a very innovative and hi-tech way with numerous interactive displays that test your A/V skills. It traces the Jews in Germany from the Middle Ages to the Holocaust with artifacts, films, and photographs. We learned later (more to come) that the museum’s intent is to teach the Germans about the Jews and how Jews have contributed to the German culture and state and to educate Germans to the positive aspects of other cultures.

After hours in the museum we headed to a lunch date with Mike Blumenthal, the Director of the Jewish Museum and my former client when he was CEO of Burroughs and gave Penchina Selkowitz his advertising account. I had not seen him in 23 years since he fired us when he wanted a large agency to handle what had now become Unisys worldwide. We spent a little time on how Penchina Selkowitz had been mistreated, but mostly the lunch was a very enjoyable recitation of how he came to be Director and what the challenges had been in opening this museum. He was born in Berlin and fled when he was 13 to Shanghai. After serving three presidents (Kennedy in State, Johnson in the White House, and Carter as Secretary of Treasury) and later, CEO of Unisys, Blumenthal became a banker at Lazard Frere and did a lot of banking in Germany. The German government approached him to solve a lot of political problems associated with opening the museum. He did a masterful job and now they are about to expand across the street with another Libeskind building for classrooms and archives. It’s the second most-visited museum (after the Pergamon) in Berlin.

After this enlightening lunch we had another date to see the private contemporary art collection of Erika Hoffman, a wealthy German art connoisseur, which she opens to the public on a ticket-basis each Saturday. The collection was interesting but the apartment, large as it was, was hot as hell and nearly knocked us out. Ever dauntless, we then spent the next couple of hours visiting many art galleries in the district which is the former Jewish quarter. To me, a lot of the contemporary German art is angry and brutal. Thoroughly exhausted, we passed out in our room for a half hour and then had an extraordinarily interesting dinner at Ma, a restaurant that combines fresh local ingredients with Asian fusion cooking. It was superb with impeccable service and an exquisite setting. Or maybe it was all attributable to the good bottle of wine we polished off. No matter. It was a great dinner.

Sunday was strictly devoted to the arts. After a leisurely breakfast we headed across the Pariser Platz to a museum devoted to the German painter, Max Lieberman. It’s on the site of his former home which stands in the square next to the Brandenburg Gate. Location. Location. Location. They had a fine exhibit of Lieberman paintings along with two other German artists—Stuck and von Lenbach. From there we headed to another gallery section of the city near Checkpoint Charlie and did several more galleries. We had yet another appointment to see a private collection, and this time the building was as interesting as the art. The Boros collection (he apparently is a very wealthy ad guy) bought a bunker that was designed by Albert Speer to hold 2,000 people and actually held up to 5,000 at one point. It later was used to store bananas and now houses a very eclectic and contemporary collection of edgy artists. These installations mostly lack the anger we saw yesterday and many are fun to see.

We hurried back to our hotel to change and grab a quick dinner (a chic Italian place named Bocca di Bacco) after which Mike Blumenthal picked us up with his driver and drove us to the Symphony since we coincidentally had tickets the same night as he did. The concert hall is pretty ugly on the outside---garish gold metal panels—but the interior of the hall is acoustically excellent with the orchestra placed in the center and various seating levels jutting towards the stage. The Italian conductor Riccardo Muti led the Berlin Philharmonic which we enjoyed. Fortunately, the driver was waiting for us as it was raining when we came out---our first rain in Berlin.

Monday was much cooler and partly cloudy and we slept in for a while before heading to a small museum exclusively devoted to the artist, Kathe Kollwitz. She is a very dark German artist and her work is filled with brooding , death, and despair. But it is all very moving and we were pleased to see that the two signed lithographs we have of her work were prominently represented in the collection on display. The museum is in a classic German villa in a neighborhood prominent with such villas and along what was and still is the most fashionable area of what was West Berlin. We walked by what was left of one of the major synagogues which burned on Kristalnacht (Mike Blumenthal remembers running from his house which was nearby to see the fire). What remains is the portal that is now attached to a mediocre 50’s style building which houses a JCC. Nearby is the shell of the Kaiser Wilhelm Church that was mostly destroyed by allied bombing in 1943. What remains is the entrance hall and spire with its double rose windows empty of glass and the tower open to the sky. Next to it is a modern octagonal single story church made of honeycombed stone filled with blue glass to create a stained-glass wall effect inside. The complex is a quite graphic reminder of both the war and the “resurrection.”

Heading back we sought out the Bauhaus museum, built from a design by Gropius, and in great need of attention. We had a pasta lunch in a Russian café in the food halls of the French store-Galleries Lafayette in Berlin (Globalization!) and headed back to relax. Rejuvenated, we decided to give German cuisine another chance and at the concierge’s suggestion went to Aigner which proved to be far better in all respects than Lutter & Wegner. It wasn’t the best food we’ve had in Berlin, but it was tasty and well presented.

Our last day in Berlin was in intermittent rain. We saved the most famous museum—the Pergamon—for last. What’s unique about this museum is that it was built to house the altar from Pergamon in Turkey dating from Greek times. Indeed, the museum houses very monumental installations from the Greek, Roman, and early Islamic periods. Each is extraordinarily grand in its own distinct ways and each is spectacular. Of course, all the smaller statues, crockery, altar pieces, and rugs, etc from the periods are on display as well, but it’s the whole facades of temples and gateways that put you in awe. It also makes you realize how much plundering or at least “purchasing” was done by the Europeans when they discovered the wonders of the ancient world. It seems a good part of the Middle East is in Berlin and they didn’t even have a colony there.

Our last museum stop was to see a retrospective exhibit of Annie Liebovitz photographs which was wonderful. Mixed in with many of her celebrity portraits were home photos of her family and also of her long relationship with Susan Sontag. I’m glad we made the stop.

Starving by this time we headed to the Reichstag where we had a 3:00pm appointment. HINT: If you want to avoid the long lines waiting to get into the Reichstag dome, ask your concierge well in advance to get you a reservation at the restaurant in the dome. You walk right in. The rain made the views more obscure but you have a wonderful 360 view of the top of Berlin. The original dome was destroyed in the fire and later bombing, but the new dome, designed by Norman Foster, is transparent and has a curled walkway that allows you to walk up near the top for even better views. It’s architecturally quite an interesting solution to combining the old with the new.

Now we sit at the airport waiting for our flight to Vienna. Looking back, we definitely enjoyed Berlin. It’s a very livable, doable, maneuverable city with lots of fascinating and horrifying sights, a dynamic architecture that yet clearly still shows the demarcation between East German and western styles, and a vibrant art and cultural scene. It doesn’t have the beauty and majesty of Paris or the pulse of London, but it’s a city to which one can certainly return.

Egypt & Jordan Part 4

2008-10-26T10:38:00.005-04:00

JORDON
Awakened at 5am, we groggily departed our hotel for the airport and flight to Jordan. I think it is safe to say that most in our group were not displeased to leave Cairo. One incongruous footnote to our stay in Egypt---at the Cairo Airport waiting to depart, I could easily get on a very fast WiFi internet link, but I could not find a single newspaper for sale. We boarded our very comfortable Royal Jordanian jet and an hour later we were in culture shock.

Amman is the antithesis of Cairo---clear, clean, and comfortable. It is modern and spotless with creamy white houses and apartment buildings with red clay roofs dotting the many hills that make up this city of 2 ½ million. They call it “the white city” because most buildings are made from local limestone. Even the poor areas where refugees from Iraq and workers from Egypt live look more than decent and clean. There is much construction going on and one has the feeling this is a country on the move. It is both an ancient land and a spanking new country. The present country status dates from 1946 and even going backward, it was only in 1916 that it came loose from the Ottoman Empire and became a British protectorate in 1918. It has been the crossroads of commerce and religion in the Middle East since civilization began: the Turks were here, the Greeks, and the Romans, and, indeed, the Jews went through Jordan on their way out of Egypt headed for the “promised land.”

It is a country of six million plus one million Iraqi refugees from Bush’s war and one million low-pay, migrant Egyptian workers. A close ally of the United States, Jordan is a constitutional monarchy that enjoys widespread popularity among the population. King Hussein was a widely admired, benevolent and modern king, and his son and successor, Abdullah, is enjoying equal enthusiasm among the people. Our guide tells us this is a liberal Moslem country, and its stability has encouraged considerable foreign investment. We see that most women wear headscarves, but many accompany this with western dress. Women are well educated and an important part of the work force. Without oil and with little agriculture (Olives are big), it is a services economy.

We decided with our guide to do a tour of Amman (it was called Philadelphia by the Greeks—the city of brotherly love) before going to our hotel, and head for the Citadel, which sits atop the highest mountain in the center of the city and which served in ancient times as the core center of the city. Roman and Byzantine remnants of temples and churches can be found here along with a small but excellent archeological museum which had remnants of the Dead Sea Scrolls as well as statues dating from 6,000BC! These actually had a modern feel to them. Another amazing feature of this Citadel, a must-see in Amman, was the total lack of souvenir hawkers. We feel delightfully neglected after the Egyptian onslaught.

We slept in the next morning and didn’t leave until 9am, then headed north along the mountains to Jerash, a city we had never heard of before but which in many respects rivals Pompeii in what we see. It turns out Jerash is the one city of the ten cities of the Roman Decoplis (group of Roman cities) mentioned in the bible (so much for Sunday school), and dates to the first century AD. At its peak it had a population of 15-20,000 and was a major provincial city and market center. What we see is essentially a Roman city-- from one of Hadrian’s arches in excellent shape, past a hippodrome, or race track, where we actually watched a staged chariot race, to a wonderfully preserved large oval plaza lined with columns that is overlooked by the ruins of a large temple. From the plaza one can walk down a long central avenue with the original paving stones, complete with manhole covers (there is an aqueduct or sewer, (contradictory opinions)) underneath) and chariot ruts; and, oh yes, a superbly preserved theater seating 5,000 with an elaborate carved stage. Since the city is built among hills, we had many higher vantage points and this gave you an impression of how manifest the grandeur and glory from Rome must have appeared to the locals. It was an excellent surprise in a country that continues to surprise us.

After a delicious (“best lunch”) Lebanese lunch on a terrace restaurant nearby, we settled in for a long four+ hour drive to Petra, in the south of the country. The roads here are excellent and relatively traffic-free, and we ride back through the hills of Amman and down into the desert which makes up 70% of this country’s land. We continue to be impressed by the cleanliness and genuine civic pride that is evident here in the care with which the people treat the streets and their neighborhoods. Another good point about the country is that relatively little corruption occurs as the civil servants are paid reasonably and the whole country seems united in their appreciation of what they have achieved. It is a worthy example to the rest of the Middle East.

We arrived in Petra in the mountains late in the afternoon and checked into the Movenpick, the best hotel in Petra but our least exceptional hotel and with very mediocre service. Dinner was a so so buffet and then we walked a bit in “town” which essentially was one street lined with souvenir shops.

The history of Petra goes back to the Nabateans, a Bedouin Arab tribe that came up from the Arabian Peninsula and eventually ruled or controlled the region’s trade routes. Apparently they started by robbing the caravans and then decided to go honest and instead impose tolls on the trade route and also provide services such as escorts, guides, and protection (from them!). Having traveled these routes and become more sophisticated, the Nabateans established Petra in the first century BC and it eventually came to house 15,000-20,000 inhabitants. It is unique in several ways. First, to get there you enter a narrow gorge hemmed in by sandstone cliffs more than 250 feet high with colorful striations of metals and minerals. Along the path at waist height you can see a water channel carved into the wall with ancient clay piping to bring water from springs down to the city. When the Romans cut off the water in 106AD, the Nabateans had to concede the city to Roman rule.

As you approach the entrance to the city (which fills a mountain- encircled valley) the gorge narrows to perhaps a width of 15 feet and almost looking through a keyhole you see the first building of Petra---the Treasury which is carved from rose sandstone directly in front of the entrance. Second, the Treasury which actually is a tomb of a Nabatean king, soars 125 feet up into the cliff and 90 feet wide and it is a conglomeration of Nabatean, Greek, Roman, and Egyptian architectural styles that work beautifully together. It was carved out of the red sandstone mountain (Petra is called the “rose city”) from the top down and is an engineering marvel. Third, this is just the beginning because as you walk farther down into the valley, you see other red sandstone tombs of noblemen, Kings, and small common-man tombs that were carved around natural caves in the mountains. Along the way are several temples in various states of ruin, a 7,000- seat theatre in the Greek style, and souvenir stands.

We spent more than six hours in ancient Petra including a barbecue lunch at a terraced restaurant at the bottom of the valley, and walked a total of about five miles. Good exercise. Some of us would have taken a 900-step hike to the top of a mountain peak where a monastery sits, but the site was closed. It seems they were making a movie which explained the helicopters that kept flying overhead which sort of breaks the mood of exploring these historic relics not to mention the thousands of tourists along side us. I will say it was gratifying to see a couple of large groups of Israeli tourists comfortably touring the site, and we are told that there is considerable interaction and mutual investment by Israelis and Jordanians going on which is a very good thing.

One interesting insight that Esta shared with us was that camels, which are quite large animals, actually have only bullet-sized turds. I include this here for Norman’s benefit. She notices this because in addition to walking down into the valley you can come in by horse-drawn carriage, on horseback, donkey or camel. It makes for a feces mishmash that requires attention as one walks. Men do come along to sweep but slowly.

Dinner was a special event. We walked down the block from our hotel to the Petra Kitchen where we had a cooking class of an authentic Jordanese dinner and then ate it.
The main course was called Magloubet—which literally means upside down. It’s a chicken casserole dish with rice, and vegetables and it gets its name from how it’s served: the pot is turned upside down onto a platter and the rice is supposed to hold everything together like a cake. It tasted fine and was accompanied by lentil soup, Tabbouleh, Baba Ganuj, and salad. We also had some quite good Jordanian red wine—a cab/pinot noir combo. A good and festive time was had by all.

We awoke the next morning to our first cloudy day. Indeed, it had actually rained a bit overnight. This was our last day on the bus (which is really wearing thin at this point) and we headed for Madaba, a city of 100,000 that is considerably less elegant than Amman but still relatively clean and well maintained. We walked through the town to St George’s Greek Orthodox Church where on the floor there is a large remnant of a mosaic map dating from 560AD of all the major biblical sites in the Middle East. The church was destroyed in the great earthquake of 749AD and the floor was only rediscovered in 1884.

From there we headed to a nearby restaurant, Haret Jdouna, and had yet another mezza antipasto (all the middle eastern stuff like Hummus) and yet another chicken dish. We have essentially had much the same meal throughout our trip except on the Nile boat, and I for one am ready for a good steak. It must be the end of the trip because all of us are getting tired as well with the unique table service in most restaurants in Egypt and Jordan. It must be considered an insult to leave a finished plate on the table, because the waiters invariably swoop in and grab your plate when they think you’re finished whether you are or not.

Anyway, after lunch we visited a mosaic workshop since this town is famous for its mosaic training and then headed for Mount Nebo nearby. This is where Moses saw the Promised Land and where he died. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see the Promised Land because of the fog. The ironic thing about Mount Nebo is that the Franciscan Brothers bought the whole mountain in 1933, and it is now a Christian shrine. Churches that existed on the mountain but were destroyed in the 749AD earthquake are being rebuilt.
We left unfulfilled and headed for the Dead Sea, barely visible below us. We passed through desert hills and Bedouin camps and a security checkpoint before reaching our destination—the Movenpick Resort on the Dead Sea. It is very comfortable and with lush gardens, swimming pools, and the sea to float upon, we are looking forward to one day of R&R before heading home. It is a bit strange to see the lights of Israel across the Sea.

We had our farewell dinner with the group and it was disappointing. We buffet dined in the main dining room at four tables and there was no effort on Lindblad’s part to make it special other than they paid for the drinks. The discussion at the tables was that Lindblad could have had us in a private room so we could make toasts, reminisce, etc. as has been done on other tours. Our feeling on this trip is that it was a very good tour at a high level, but it was just that; there was nothing special or unique that Lindblad did that set it apart from other tour groups we saw other than perhaps being a smaller group with more guide coverage. Our guides were all excellent ,but we would have expected nothing less. What we were missing were those special touches like a visit to a private home or normally closed-to-the-public museum or art collection. It definitely is necessary, we think, to see these sites with a knowledgeable guide, but the group tour part is a big open question in our minds.

There also seemed to be consensus that while this voyage to Egypt and Jordan was a very good trip, it was, perhaps of necessity, more one-dimensional than others we’ve been on. By that I mean the clear focus on this trip is ancient history, and we saw plenty of it and were suitably impressed by it. But the trip lacked diverse food, current culture, art and/or city ambience that makes for a holistic and elevated experience. We are all very glad we came and saw what we saw, but we wished we had a more rounded experience.

At any rate, Jay and I had a very much- needed run along the banks of the Dead Sea before breakfast and then the four of us lounged at the beach for the morning. We were not able to go into the Sea, however, as the red flag was up because the seas were too rough for swimming. We had lunch on the terrace by the pool, an idyllic setting but for the swarms of houseflies that enveloped us. We compensated by heading for the Spa where Betsey, Jay, and I had salt scrubs before our massages, and Esta had a hot and cold stone massage. It was off to dinner and the airport for our midnight flight home. We leave very much more aware of how civilizations began and more cognizant of how much we need to go to deliver on a clean, safe, healthy, and prosperous world for all. Go Obama!

Egypt & Jordan Part 3

2008-10-21T16:35:00.003-04:00

Part 3—Abu Simbel and the Pyramids, etc.
We had an early start to head south by charter flight to Abu Simbel, home of two extraordinary temples. On our way to the airport, we drove over the old Aswan dam, built by the British in the early 1900’s. The new high Aswan dam, built by the Russians in the early 1960’s to bring electricity to the south for the first time and to allow for three harvests instead of one, created the 300 mile long Lake Nasser reservoir. As a result 14 temples were going to be underwater, not to mention one million Nubian residents. All were relocated in a Herculean effort. The most important temples to be moved were Ramses II temple (who else?) and the temple he built for his queen, Nefertari (“more beautiful queen”, as opposed to the more famous Nefertitti—“most beautiful queen”). These two temples alone cost $41million to move with UNESCO paying half the cost.

Ramses II temple is the famous one, with four 300 -foot high statues of, who else, Ramses II, carved out of the mountain side at the entrance to the temple. The temple was discovered in the 1850’s and is incredibly well preserved with more Ramses II statues lining the hallway to the altar and wonderful reliefs depicting various heroic deity scenes lining the walls and ceilings. The Nefertari temple is smaller in scale with two statues of Nefertari at the entrance and four of Ramses II (who else?) about half the size of the other temple’s. Inside are excellently preserved reliefs and painted scenes with still glowing colors. They are beyond impressive.

What is even more beyond impressive is how these were moved more than 600 feet back from the lake and many feet higher. In essence, they cut the statues into blocks and the walls into sections; rebuilt them on the higher ground; then built huge concrete domes over the temples to protect them from future earthquakes; then covered the domes with sand and the rock and rubble from the original mountain from which they were carved. Every part of the temple was reestablished exactly as it was found, including one head of Ramses that had been knocked down long ago on the original site. Unfortunately, you can also see graffiti that had been carved into the statues and walls in the 1860’s and later by errant sightseers. We came away really awestruck by the monumentality of these structures, the enormous ego of Ramses II, and the stunning accomplishment of moving these temples to high ground. It was well worth the schlep.

We had a two hour flight back to Cairo and a long ride to our hotel, The Mena House Oberoi, where our room overlooks the Great Pyramids. Cairo was as ugly as we left it. We did learn that one reason many of the buildings look unfinished despite the fact that they look tens of years old is that in Egypt you don’t start paying taxes until your building is complete. So a lot of people don’t finish their buildings, leaving concrete rods sticking up among the satellite towers.

Let me comment on the Egyptians themselves. Everyone seems friendly towards Americans. Our guides insist that Egypt will never go fundamentalist because it is not in the nature of the Egyptian psyche, and while women are more and more adopting the veil, they are doing it more out of religious revival than political fervor. Interestingly, the Egyptians turned from their ancient religion to Coptic Christianity when the Romans took over because to the average Egyptian, Christianity offered a path to heaven for the common man whereas in the ancient religion, only the pharaohs and higher classes were offered that reward. Then, when the Arabs took over Egypt, they told the Christians they could continue their religion, but they taxed Christians and not Moslems. Hence, a quick conversion to Islam since it was cheaper, it had a lot of similarities to Christianity, and Moslems could have multiple wives which produced a lot more children than the shrinking Christians. I need to get a better understanding of the Jews situation back then in Egypt. At the beginning of our trip our guides said the Egyptians didn’t have slaves. If that’s the case, why on Passover do the Jews eat Charoses which is supposed to look like the bricks the Jews were forced to carry to build the pyramids when they were in slavery in Egypt????

We got the answer the next morning when our guide told us the Great Pyramids of Giza couldn’t have been built by Jewish slaves for two reasons: 1) the pyramids were built around 2600BC while historians have pinpointed Joseph’s arrival in Egypt to the 1700’s BC; 2) about 15 years ago they uncovered a workers’ village near the pyramids, not yet open to the public, in which they found pits of skeletons of Egyptian workers, many of whom died from spinal injuries. You can easily guess why when you gaze up at these Pyramids of Giza.

Built over a 20 year period by 100,000 workers around 2600BC as burial tombs, the Cheop’s Pyramid’s base covers 30 acres, is 455 feet high, and used three million blocks of limestone. My image of them has always been of smooth stone, but today only the top of one is smooth as the rest of the pyramids are of rough blocks since the smooth stones were either carted away for other uses or deteriorated. The design was supposed to copy the rays of the sun and they stand out in great majesty against, luckily, a deep blue sky.

Nearby is a small museum containing a 130-foot funerary boat of Lebanese Cedar wood that has been painstakingly put back together after being discovered in pieces in a vault. This would have been used to bring the body down the Nile for burial and of course it gets buried with the pharaoh in case he needs it when he returns to the earth. It is graceful and larger than the Viking boats and one can even examine some lengths of rope that survived and the thatch that covered the vault roof. It almost looks like it could float again with minor repairs.

The Necropolis (cemetery hill) on which the Pyramids sit not only contains the massive Cheops Pyramid but also that of his son and grandson. These step down somewhat in size, but all are surrounded by small pyramids containing the tombs of the queens, priests and nobility. There are also ruins of funerary temples but the piece de resistance is the massive Sphinx which guards the entrance to the Necropolis and which was carved from a single rock. After reading about all this and seeing pictures since we were children, it’s hard to believe we are actually walking around and touching these wonders. And if walking weren’t enough, of course we had to take the obligatory camel ride that reminded me of my childhood visits to the Bronx Zoo. We ended out visit by enjoying lunch on a terrace overlooking all this history.

We weren’t done yet. We headed to Memphis, the first capital of Egypt, which is pretty much devoid of everything because it was close to sea level and the humidity did most of it in; however, there is a massive statue of (who else?) Ramses II that fell and is on display on its side. An interesting angle for a change.

Our final site visit was to Saqqara, another Necropolis, but the site of the Pyramid of Zoser, the first and oldest pyramid, dating to 2800 BC. This pyramid is shaped like a six-tiered wedding cake, and it is the first vision of what a pyramid came to look like. At a nearby temple we saw the beginnings of the invention of the column. You see a column-like structure that is attached to a buttress. They hadn’t yet figured out how to have the column stand on its own. You feel like you’re at the birthplace of architecture. Awesome.

I have to admit that by now most of us were pretty much templed out. It’s all a bit overwhelming to see wonder after wonder, day in and day out. It’s been a pretty intense trip so far, not a sit-by-the-pool vacation, but you do feel you are observing the beginning of civilization. To see how far we’ve come, the traffic in Cairo is thoroughly maddening, no matter the hour, and the city practically butts up against the Pyramids with garbage-strewn streets only blocks away. What progress!

We watched a sound and light show at the Pyramids (fair) and got ready for a 6am departure. On to Jordan.

Egypt& Jordan--Part 2

2008-10-19T17:15:00.003-04:00

Part 2-On the Nile
Our arrival by charter flight into Luxor was confused by the presence of President Mubarak who was visiting in the city and caused some paralysis as roads were closed and troops lined the major avenues. What one notices immediately is the green. Down here the Nile yields great fertility, and we see extensive farmland and lush greenery. Luxor itself is the site of two of the most famous temples of Ancient Egypt—Luxor and Karnak (yes, Johnnie Carson’s incarnation) dating back at least 4,000 years. After some delay for Mubarak, we headed to the Luxor Museum. Here’s a tidbit—1/3 of the world’s ancient artifacts are in Luxor. The museum is modern and lights and stages the artifacts in a much more favorable way than Cairo. Inside the statuary is exquisite. Much of it is almost entirely intact and the level of craftsmanship is superb. We not only saw wondrous statues of the various deities but also artifacts of everyday life that were buried in the tombs so that the pharaohs could use them in their afterlife. These included a chariot, wood and cane chairs, beds, jewelry, and amulets.

Before heading to the temples we had lunch on our boat. We will be cruising the Nile for four nights, and the boat, The Triton, belongs exclusively to our group and is more than comfortable. We have a large stateroom with king size bed and sitting area; there are nice lounge areas, a plunge pool and sundeck. We have a crew of 60 to take care of the 39 passengers. We are told there are 300 cruise ships, most larger than ours, on the lower Nile. Fortified by lunch, we headed to Karnak, a colossal temple complex that once covered 600 acres and has only 60 acres of it excavated after being buried in the sand for 1,000 years. Many pharaohs contributed to its growth over a 2,000- year period. I had been impressed by Pompeii, yet here is a complex of greater size, majesty and greater intricacy that was carved out of the sandstone more than 2000 years before Pompeii. The columns and statuary are enormous and precise. The hieroglyphics are rampant and some even maintain their color.

A short distance away was the Temple of Luxor. It is smaller in scope than Karnak but as impressive in its own way. Built in a later period principally by two pharaohs, Luxor is especially beholden to the egomaniac Ramses II who had many giant statues of himself spread all over the complex. As if that weren’t enough, he had his cartouche (or “brand”) deeply engraved into each pillar so it couldn’t be rubbed out, and there are scores of pillars. Here is a splendid obelisk of pink granite, whose twin sits in the Place de la Concorde in Paris. Alexander the Great stopped by later and made a few changes of his own. We were here at dusk and sunset and watched the temple take on a warm, rose glow as it was lit for the evening. Speaking of evening, we returned to our boat, took a much-needed shower and enjoyed dinner on board.

We were on the bus the next day at 7am to head for the Valley of the Kings, about 45 minutes away on the west bank of the Nile. I guess we were late because when we arrived there were already tens of busloads of tourists disgorging into these totally brown limestone hills. In the Valley of the Kings is tomb upon tomb of pharaohs. We visited just three—Tutankhamon’s still contains his sarcophagus, coffin, and mummy. The walls are covered with vibrantly colored hieroglyphics. In the tomb of Ramses I the sarcophagus was pink and scarab-shaped. In Ramses IV, the tunnel into the tomb has intricate hieroglyphics on the walls and a blue-skied ceiling with stars painted and still glowing and a vivid painting on the chamber ceiling. Also interesting was the Coptic graffiti from tomb invaders of centuries ago. While we were fascinated by what we saw, we didn’t appreciate the hoards of tourists (it’s not even high season yet), the heat, especially in the tombs themselves, and the flies.

Our next stop was the funerary temple of Queen Hatshepsut. Whereas the other temples such as Karnak and Luxor were used for offerings to the gods, a funerary temple is used for the final service before entombment. Now, they don’t instantly rent a temple for the service. What they did in those days was to start building the tomb and funerary temple for a pharaoh as soon as he was crowned. Anyway, this temple is a very well preserved and rare three-terraced structure climbing into the hills. It’s square-edged columns and large statuary make the visit worthwhile, and equally impressive are the relief hieroglyphics on the walls. The first two levels of the temple were intact when found and the third terraced level has been restored.

Our final stop was in the Valley of the Nobles where hundreds of tombs held members of the priesthood and nobility. We stopped at one tomb of a priest who served two pharaohs and had to leave this tomb unfinished because his new pharaoh decided to be buried a few hundred miles away. Apparently there was no resale, but you were able to identify the different artistic styles favored by each of the pharaohs, and you could also see the graph-like lines and black charcoal outlines that the artisans used as a first step in creating their designs.

We took a small boat back across the Nile to our boat and enjoyed an Egyptian barbecue lunch on the deck (no hamburgers and hotdogs though) and began our cruise down the Nile. The riverbank is quite lush with stands of regal Palm trees and farmlands. Small villages dot the river and young men swim nude in the waters, segregated from the women farther down the bank who are doing their laundry in the river. After dinner we docked while we waited our turn to go through the one lock on the river. While we were there, hawkers in rowboats came along, throwing up their wares to the passengers to coax them into purchases. Betsey and I succumbed to our new friend Ahmed who sold us a genuine Egyptian cotton beach towel for $8.

By the next morning we had arrived in Edfu, an industrial town of sugar cane processing and metal making, but we are here because of a remarkable insight into the past. The temple of Edfu was built over a hundred- year period by the Greeks in 300BC in the Egyptian style, but because it was buried in sand and rubble from the time of the Coptic Christians until the mid 19th century, it is virtually intact. So we have a wonderful view of what the ancient Egyptian temples looked like, complete with the full pylon gates of the temple to the roofed temple itself and the intact shrine and storage rooms. All are covered with hieroglyphics which tell the story of the deities, as well as giving the recipes for the perfumes that were stored in the perfume rooms, etc.,etc. It gave us a perfect sense of the monumentality of these temples and the skill in design and execution. Many of the faces of the gods are scratched out which was done by the Coptic Christians to obliterate the pagan gods. But otherwise, all is incredibly well preserved.

We then headed down the Nile for the afternoon and relaxed on deck reading and eating another Egyptian barbecue. The coastline is very lush with large stands of elegant palm trees and a sea grasses that reminded us of the Botswana delta. Here and there are small villages with boys minding donkeys, cattle and water buffalo. We also passed large sandstone quarries where the stone for the temples had been dug and dotted along the sides of the quarry hills were small tomb entrances and one small temple.

We arrived at Kom Ombo after enjoying a robust sunset. We had obviously arrived at a tourist Mecca, the one logical stop between Edfu and our final Nile destination, Aswan. Scores of boats, tied four and five abreast, lined the quay. We had to walk through four boats besides our own to get to the dock. We were here to visit an unusual dual temple, dedicated to two deities, and built over a hundred year period starting around 100BC by the Greeks and later, Romans. Instead of one central corridor to the shrine, this temple had two identical corridors, all lined with hieroglyphics. The interesting thing we learned about the craftsmanship is that the workmanship is somewhat inferior in Greek or Roman temples because the Egyptians who were pressed into action were creating for their conquerors, not their own pharaohs. Because one of the deities here was a god of medicine, we saw hieroglyphics that depicted all of his medical tools. There was also a wall calendar of sorts with the days of all the holidays etched into the stone. And there were mobs of people. Russians are the #1 tourists to Egypt, but they prefer the Red Sea resorts and only do day trips to Cairo or Luxor. On the Nile we see Europeans and Americans.

We returned to the ship for an Egyptian buffet dinner that actually was pretty good and then took a stroll along the quay, fending off the inevitable army of hawkers. I should acknowledge that about a quarter of our group have fallen ill along the way on the Nile with some sort of intestinal catastrophe. There doesn’t seem to be a common denominator, but more the luck of the draw. Fortunately, we have been fine. The configuration of the dining room into mostly tables of four hasn’t helped in terms of mingling and getting quality conversation time with different folks, especially since we have been divided into two groups for sightseeing since the outset and we don’t mix up the groups. Having said that, we have companionship enough within our group which includes the Alaskan couple whom I now know are staunch Palinites. Most of the rest of us are of the Obama persuasion and fiercely so.

By morning we had reached Aswan, our final stop on the Nile, and Egypt’s southernmost city. It is a more modern city than Cairo and a bit better cared for although the architecture is non-descript box style. It’s location on both banks of the Nile makes for a picturesque setting. We started our day at an ancient granite quarry where an uncompleted obelisk lies on its side still attached to the underlying rock. A crack appeared during construction and the obelisk was completely abandoned. It’s a shame as it would have been the tallest in Egypt.

We then boarded a motor launch for a short cruise to an island where the temple of Philae is now located. I say “now” because the entire temple complex was taken down from another island when the Aswan High Dam was constructed in the 60’s and rebuilt anew because the old island was totally flooded by the new dam. As it is, one can see water lines from previous floods. This is a smaller temple relative to what we’ve seen and parts of it were converted to a Coptic Church, and you can also see graffiti from the British occupation as they inscribed names in memory of fallen soldiers on the walls.

Shopping was the next order of business once we landed, and we found some worthy Egyptian cotton goods in a friendly shop. We lunched back on the ship indoors as it was now pretty beastly hot (but dry!) on the deck. After a quick snooze, we headed out for a Felucca cruise. A Felucca is the typical sailboat on the Nile, but alas, we had virtually no wind and soon transferred to a motorboat for a more efficient cruise around the islands that dot the Nile in Aswan. It’s interesting to see the west bank where you have a narrow strip of lushness with mountains of desert sands behind it. Atop one such mountain is the large pink marble tomb of the Aga Khan, grandfather to the present Aga Khan, Karim.

We had a banquet farewell dinner on board as we leave the boat early tomorrow. After dinner, there was a presentation of typical Egyptian dancing which seems to focus on whirling dervishes and a pounding rhythm. The expected belly dancer was buxom and actually not as good as the male dancers. Thus to packing and bed.

Egypt& Jordan--10/12-10/27/08-Part 1

2008-10-16T16:09:00.005-04:00

Part 1- Cairo
It was the best of times—to leave the country—because it was the worst of times—stock market crashing, presidential election getting ugly, so we’re off to Egypt and Jordan, the cradle of early civilization, to see if we can learn how we got into this mess in the first place. We’re traveling with our friends and perennial fellow travelers, Esta and Jay Feinsod, on a Lindblad National Geographic tour. We previously used Lindblad on our recent Costa Rica/ Panama trip and thought they did a superb job. So since traveling in Egypt and Jordan is probably best done with a group, we’re in their hands.

We flew Delta non-stop for eleven hours and landed at 9:45am which afforded us a good overview of Cairo coming in for a landing. In a word, Cairo is beige. Through the dense smog over this city of 18 million we could make out…sand and beige buildings and beige landscape. Our total trip numbers 39 participants but coming in a day ahead, there were about 15 of us being met. Lindblad whisked us through customs, and we were on our way for a very slow 45-minute ride to our hotel. Interestingly, every American tour group in Egypt must be accompanied by an armed Egyptian security guard.

First impressions of Cairo are not very positive. We passed through a wealthy section which was lined with decrepit high-rise apartments that look vaguely 1950’s Polish communist in style. The streetscape is interrupted by mosques and an occasional old world mansion. There are swarms of satellite dishes nesting atop crumbling buildings. Everywhere there is dust and grime as Cairo averages nine days of rain a year, and it looks as though the city is very ready for a downpour. Everything looks tired, in disrepair, and dirty, especially the cars. We crossed the Nile for the first time going from Cairo into Giza where our hotel, the Four Seasons, sits on the riverbank. Fortunately, it is clean and modern and our room is on the river-side and spacious. We had a light lunch, a walk around the neighborhood, and some chill time before a nice Italian dinner at our hotel.

After a good night’s sleep, Jay and I had a run along both sides of the Nile before breakfast. The Nile is bluer than I expected but the sky was smog-gray. The traffic is absurd. There are no traffic lights in Cairo, and although there are plenty of white-coated policemen, none of them seem interested in directing traffic. Therefore, you have automobile anarchy and no car seems to go unpunished as dents are universal. The taxis make our NY cabs look like Rolls Royces.

After breakfast the four of us met our private guide and driver for a tour of Coptic Cairo and parts of the old city. The Coptics are the true Egyptians since they are the original inhabitants and most have not intermarried with the Romans, the Turks, the Arabs and others who at one time or another invaded Egypt. Of the 80 million Egyptians, 85% are Muslims, 15% are Christians (the Coptics) and yes, there are still 3,000 Jews in Cairo. The Coptic museum, experienced in the dark to protect the fragile textile artifacts, has elaborate carved wooden ceilings taken from old houses. In the old Coptic section we toured the “hanging” church dating from the 11th century, which was suspended between old Roman towers. The Church of St. Sergius is built over a site where Jesus, Mary, and Joseph once took shelter.

In the same neighborhood was the Ben Ezra Synagogue which, in its current incarnation, dates to the 14th century and was originally a synagogue, then a church before being converted back to a synagogue. It’s also allegedly the site where Moses was found in the bulrushes (how do they know that?). This synagogue is no longer used, but we did visit in the newer section of Cairo the 100 year-old Shaar Hashamayim Synagogue which is still in use. Unfortunately, we were told that most of the members are old, and it is questionable how long it will be in active use. The synagogue includes a library of Judaism with a 500 year-old Jewish history book written on sheepskin. To complete the religious circle we visited the Mosque of Ibn Tulun, one of the largest mosques in Egypt and one of the oldest—900 AD. It features a large walled courtyard in which the entire male population of the district could kneel in prayer. Cairo is called the “city of 1,000 minarets” and it is indeed loaded with Mosques and minarets galore; they are certainly the most interesting architecture in the city, perhaps, the only interesting architecture in the city!

We enjoyed our guide, Mi, who spoke fluent English, is earning her doctorate in archaeology, and considers herself a liberal woman although she wears a headscarf (so she doesn’t have to hassle her hair, she says). Most women in Cairo are wearing something on their head, and some are totally covered. It is becoming more and more the fashion although our guides suggest it is less religious and more cultural identification. Interestingly, in our hotel, the women employees are totally westernized; I guess they want the guests to feel “comfortable.” Back at the hotel we had a light bite to eat and headed for massages.

Wednesday morning, October 15th we officially joined our Lindblad National Geographic group. There are 39 of us. My first impressions: most are about our age although there are a few octogenarians and a few “young adults”. The geography represented is quite diverse with an Alaskan couple (don’t know their politics yet); several from Florida and Connecticut, Arizona, Minnesota, Kansas, a couple from the UK and only one from New York. Our two Egyptian guides are well versed in the lore. We are new to this idea of traveling with a group and getting on buses, and I am withholding judgment and avoiding my usual prejudices for the moment. They have split us into two smaller groups which should make for a better experience.

Our touring of Cairo today took us first to the vast Egyptian Museum which is chock full of ancient Egypt’s artifacts. To put it into perspective, when the famous Tutankhamun exhibit came to the Met several years ago, 55 pieces were in the exhibit. This museum has about 1,700 on display! The intricacy of the jewelry and carving in the various tomb pieces are stunning, and to see a bed with hinges that folds up is to realize that we haven’t made that much progress in the last few thousand years. One of the most impressive pieces in this museum was also one of the simplest—considered the oldest painting in history, dating from 2620 BC, it depicts geese grazing and the paint is made from a tempura of ground up semi-precious stones. The colors remain vivid and it is quite beautiful. We visited several mummies, including the famous Ramses II and these were not very beautiful at all. While the museum is certainly hot and overcrowded and a bit chaotic, the 120,000- piece collection is breathtaking, and the knowledge, ingenuity, and craftsmanship of these people thousands of years ago is beyond impressive.

After a typical lunch in a restaurant we did a brief turn in the 500-year-old Khan El Khalili market that was actually cleaner and more upscale than most outdoor bazaars we’ve seen in the world. The goods were not recommended, and we left shortly after for the Citadel and Mohamed Ali Mosque atop it. The mosque was built by Egypt’s first modern king who founded the dynasty in 1805 that ended with King Farouk’s deportation in 1952. The mosque itself is huge and quite elaborate with several domes and minarets and is modeled after the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. From the vistas of this Citadel peak on the now quite clear day we could see most of Cairo as well as the great pyramids not that far in the distance. We did a return visit to the Ibn Tulun mosque and bused back to the hotel for rest and dinner aboard a floating restaurant which turned out to be the former royal barge of King Farouk. We are being awakened at 5am to fly on a charter to Luxor.

Puglia, Basilicata and Umbria Regions-Part II

2008-06-10T05:23:00.002-04:00

Part II—Basilicata and Umbria by car and foot
On the seventh day we rested. Betsey and I slept in, and the six of us from Stamford were on our own for the day. All of our fellow bike travelers had left except for Jim and Jan from Vancouver who were also staying for an extra day and went off exploring. Today was for recovering and restoring so we hung out at the pool where I swam some laps, had a leisurely lunch with Esta and Jay while the Lapines played golf, and all of us except for Mark had very relaxing and rejuvenating massages. The eight hold-overs convened for dinner. We went to a neighboring Masseria dating from the 15th century that is now a very elegant hotel with 58 rooms. The limestone terraces and walls were pretty stunning and they had a pool that was as large as a small lake. We had cocktails on the terrace and then a very well presented dinner. I have had comments from part I of this trip blog that I am very focused on the food this trip. Well, we are in Italy and if not here, where?

On the eighth day the heavens opened up and we were confronted with rolling thunder, crackling lightening, and a heavy hail storm as we made our way by van to our next destination, Matera. Our van driver was stunned by the hail, which he had never seen before. We busied ourselves by doing “Bests & Worsts” for the bike trip. Matera is a town dating from the 8th century, first peopled by religious groups and eventually settled by peasants. It is unique in that the houses and churches have been carved out of the limestone cliffs and the town was built from the top down. As the town grew, people carved more houses lower down; so you are walking on lanes that are actually the roofs of other houses, and ancient cemeteries were on top of the roofs of churches. The people were very poor and very insular and it wasn’t until the mid 1950’s to early ‘60’s that the government stepped in to provide sewers, electricity, and water. Can you imagine people living in a civilized country like Italy in the 1950’s with an open sewer running down the center of the town? Today, Matera is a UNESCO world heritage sight, but our local guide told us that a lot of the grant money has been squandered by corruption. She took us to several churches built into the carved out rock cliffs with 700 year-old frescos, most in poor repair since UNESCO funds have not been used wisely. It’s a shame, but this place is very unique and relatively undiscovered except by film directors since it makes an excellent “set” for Christ-era movies like “The Passion of the Christ” which was made here.

Our hotel, the Sant’ Angelo, is also carved out of limestone, and our room has cave-like alcoves carved from the walls and less than mediocre air conditioning. We tried to wait-out the rain through lunch but then set out with our guide for a three-hour tour of the city. Eventually it let up and brightened and we finished our tour and collapsed (these hills are steep) until dinner. The evening turned out to be clear and star-filled and dinner was very good although the owner/maitre d’ had an attitude problem. The fare here is simpler and more peasant-like but very good. We finished the evening off with, yes, Gelato at a nearby Gelateria.

The sun shone the next morning as we headed for the airport in Bari to take us to Rome to pick up a van to drive to Perugia in Umbria, which will be our base for the next four nights. Then the fun began. It took longer to get our luggage in Rome (1 hour 15 minutes) than it did to fly from Bari to Rome (1 hour). Then, when we picked up our van from Avis, the agent was very clear to give us a diagram that showed we already had four scratches on the van so not to worry. What she didn’t tell us, and what we didn’t discover until we were down the road on the A-1 and the wind was whistling in our van so loud we could hardly speak, was that they had put cellophane tape on top of the windshield to apparently try to repair a faulty seal on the windshield. We were also starving so we stopped at a service area (which had very little worth eating) and Mark and I called Avis. This was a relatively fruitless effort since our Italian Avis representative didn’t understand the word “tape” so communication was challenging. Finally, in desperation I called the Chairman’s Club desk in the US (They haven’t yet figured out that I am no longer a Chairman) and Michelle got on the case. We told her we were driving onward but expected a new van in Perugia. She eventually referred us to Francesco in Perugia who promises to replace the van tomorrow. We shall see.

So amid the din we enjoyed the Tuscan scenery on our way up and passed by Lake Trasimino, the fourth largest lake in Italy, and entered Perugia under the watchful eye of Mark’s GPS machine. It was a bit curvy and we did have to circle a circle about three times before we found the right exit, but we made it to our hotel, The Brufani, in one piece other than Jay who didn’t appreciate the bends from the way-back seat. I won’t say more than that. Fortunately, we have splendid suites from which we can enjoy the marvelous views of Umbria.

Dinner at the hotel was part of our “package” and it turned out to be one of our best ever on this trip (Mark thinks it’s the best) with many courses and several wines. We managed to polish off four bottles of wine for five of us drinking. Jim and Jan from Vancouver are also staying at the hotel and they joined us for dessert which happened to be the best chocolate-chip Napolean birthday cake I or anyone has ever had, compliments of Joyce Ackerman, our very expert travel agent. It was about my fourth birthday party this year, but who’s counting?

We awoke to a beautiful sunny day without a cloud in the sky, a perfect way to explore Perugia. This is an Etruscan city first settled in the 5th century BC and later modified in the “modern” Medieval style. We wandered from our hotel on the Piazza Italia overlooking the countryside and strode down the main street past the impressive Palazzo dei Priori built between 1293 and 1443 and into the Duomo which is quite plain on the outside since what must have been an elaborate marble façade is gone, but inside the sanctuary is impressive with high vaulted ceilings. The other building that impresses is the church of San Michele Arcanagelo which is round in shape, very simple but beautiful and dates to the 5th century BC. We enjoyed meandering within the old walls of the city and winding our way through narrow streets and up at least 300 steps (according to Mark, our counter) from the Arch that dates to the 3rd century BC and was later modified and “signed” by Augustus Caesar. But perhaps the most impressive sight, though not the most elaborate, was the Etruscan well that once supplied the entire city with water and which still functions and is said to be 2600 years old. Our awe was somewhat diminished by fact that it is right next to the Shamrock Café. Progress.

We had a relatively light lunch on the Piazza near the Duomo and the very handsome fountain that adorns the square and then headed to the airport to switch our van. Francesco of Avis was a man of his word as he had a new van for us, and Avis won’t charge us for the day we suffered. We then met our friends, Garry and Monique Titterton. Garry was my President of Asia Pacific at D’Arcy and we’ve kept up our friendship via email and rare meetings. The Tittertons moved to the Gubbio area in Umbria five years ago and own a reconstructed 400 year old farm house and 100 acres in a stunningly beautiful and tranquil area of Umbria. The views from their house are of rolling hills and farmlands with the hills over Assisi in the background. They have planted 1,000 olive trees and vineyards and have become fluent Italians. We had a relaxing couple of hours at their home on their terrace learning about life in the area and the joys and woes of home ownership in Italy. The Tittertons live off a dirt road that was the route of Saint Francis on his way to Assisi. They say it’s really true because he was headed to a particular church at the end of the road which is there today. Talk about living with history…

In the afternoon we headed to Gubbio which was settled by the Romans in the 2nd century BC. This town has strong Roman architectural influences and is remarkably well preserved, clean, and relatively graffiti free. We loved just climbing through the narrow streets, exploring the Cathedral and other historic buildings. Gubbio sits high on a hill and has superb views of the surrounding countryside. It is such a beautiful part of Italy and everything is lush and green because it’s been a very wet spring.

We had a very memorable (by now it must sound like a cliche) dinner at La Fornace di Mastro Giorgio in Gubbio where Garry and Monique are friends with the owner. With their help we had the best choices from the menu, including pasta with black truffles, Osso Bucco (they call it “Stinko” here), and some magical mixture of pear, ewe cheese, and honey. Magnifico. The wine was quite good as well. We then had to drive in the dark back to Perugia through twisted mountain roads with Mark’s GPS barking out the directions. We did manage to get back to our hotel with only one wrong turn and then to bed.

Saturday morning was overcast and threatening but we had only intermittent drizzle and a good amount of sunshine as well. Today we headed to Assisi, the mountaintop town that is famous for its hometown hero, Saint Francis. Apart form the Franciscan story, the town itself is a study in pink and cream stone and Roman and Medieval architecture with many narrow alleys with arches and post-card views out to the mountains. It’s also a town of churches as you would imagine, including the Romanesque Santa Maria Maggiore with oversize flying buttresses, but the piece de resistance is the Basilica di San Francesco which is actually two churches, one on top of the other. The lower and earlier church includes the tomb of St Francis and extraordinary frescoes, and the upper church has the famous frescoes depicting St Francis’ life, once thought the work of Giotto but now attributed to an unknown genius. We had a patisserie before we visited the Basilica and reenergized, we “did” the Basilica.

Later, at the Duomo where we saw the baptismal font where Francis was baptized, a miracle happened. We approached a dark grotto in the church, and Jay put his hand on the wall and all of a sudden the grotto was awash in light. There was no switch where Jay put his hand, and when the lights went out he did it again. It didn’t work for me, so we attributed this to a miracle and immediately dubbed Jay, Saint Jay, the Ironmonger. We await further miracles, like not getting lost. Hungry yet again, we had a very good pizza and salad lunch with some vino. Incidentally, in Puglia and Basiclicata you can’t get pizza for lunch because the ovens are too hot to use during the day in these warm regions. After lunch, we made our way to our next stop, Spello. The only negative about Assisi is that it is understandably full of tourists and pilgrims. Makes for a lot of souvenir shops and such.

Spello is the smallest town we’ve visited so far and the one where we got most lost (so much for St. Jay). It’s also the town where there are flowers everywhere—along the narrow alleys, in flower boxes in most of the houses, and along the streets. It was another mountaintop town with views out of paintings. We crisscrossed the town (not altogether on purpose), and visited some churches and arches and enjoyed a gelato on a terrace overlooking the valley. It was a nice but tiring visit and we were grateful to return to our hotel and relax while watching Hillary Clinton finally do the right thing.

Dinner was at La Taverna, recommended by Joyce Ackerman and Emilio, our waiter at the hotel. They didn’t steer us wrong. It’s going to be challenging picking “best restaurant” when we do “bests & worsts” for this leg of the trip. We emerged from a leisurely dinner into a heavy downpour. Hopefully it will rain itself out overnight.

Sunday morning was brightly overcast as we headed to the south of Umbria and the town of Spoleto. We climbed and climbed to the higher reaches of the town to visit the really impressive Romanesque Duomo which sits on a plateau behind a commanding piazza. Built on the site of a previous Roman religious building, the cathedral has a handsome bell tower and simple but beautiful Romanesque façade. The interior is also simple but majestic. Then we climbed and climbed again to the very top of the town and the imposing 13th century La Rocca. This was a military fortress, home to many notables including Lucrezia Borgia, and finally a penitentiary before becoming a museum and tourist site. The views are superb and the calf exercise excellent.

Lunch was at a restaurant recommended by Mark’s accountant and it was very good with interesting pasta variations. We were fortunate because it started to rain as we approached and the rain nearly played out by the time we headed out again after lunch. We managed to visit a Roman amphitheater and some more piazzas before heading to our next stop, Todi.

Todi is a small mountain-top village with a couple of impressive churches, one of them that looks like a miniature St Peter’s and may have been designed by the same architect, and the other San Fortunato which has an unfinished exterior but is interesting in its own right. The town square is ringed by imposing palazzos and the town also has some good gelato.

Our last stop of the day was in Durato, famous for the hand-painted ceramics that come from there. Betsey had a ten- year- old magazine article that mentioned a store, Geribi, that was still there and turned out to have what we all thought was the best selection and most interesting designs. We all did a lot of damage there, and then headed back to Perugia for our last dinner there, a not particularly good place recommended by our concierge. I should point out that while we have all loved the food in Italy this time, most of us (not me!) have commented that the Italians love their salt and are pretty indiscriminate in tossing it on just about anything.

Welcome to Italy! We had been assured by our guide book and the hotel concierge that the National Gallery Museum in Perugia was open on Mondays, so we waited to go there until our last morning in Umbria. Of course, when we went we were told that the Museum is closed on Mondays. So we checked out of our hotel and headed for the Tuscan sun on our last day in Italy. We were headed to Pienza a small village in Tuscany that Joyce had recommended. It was interesting to see the difference in topography from the mountains of southern Umbria to the rolling hills and sloping farmland in Tuscany, and it’s safe to say we loved it all.

Pienza is a hilltop village with essentially one main street of Renaissance buildings and excellent boutiques and shops. Thank you Joyce. The village was established by Pope Pius II and it commands lush views of the surrounding countryside. The Duomo is simple but unusually filled with light by the tall windows that surround the apse. The shops were interesting because about every third shop seemed to be a cheese shop. It turns out Pienza’s claim to fame is its Pecorino cheese. We walked into one shop with the aroma so strong it was intoxicating, at least for a cheese lover like me. Shockingly, I could get no one interested in buying a hunk to taste. We did manage to find some linens and ceramics we liked.

Our primary reason for coming into Tuscany on our way back to Rome was to have lunch at La Chiusa. Joyce considers this one of the best restaurants in Italy, and we can now understand why. The setting (a few miles from Pienza) is breathtaking both in terms of the reconstructed farm house of the restaurant and the views from the terrace where we enjoyed a delicious Prosecco apertif while deciding what to have for lunch. The menu sounded so good we ended up ordering a lot more than we ever would have had for lunch, and Massimo, our captain, was very adroit in persuading us of the wisdom of our choices. Suffice it to say that the meal garnered several “bests” in our end-of-trip sum up. I want to wax eloquent about the Porcini mushroom appetizer I had. The mushrooms were freshly picked and simply sautéed in olive oil with garlic and herbs. It was no doubt the best mushrooms I have ever had, bar none. Another noteworthy appetizer that Betsey and Jennifer enjoyed was a sample of three country soups. Esta particularly enjoyed her pasta dish which featured a robust tomato sauce. The most extraordinary main course was a Florentine T-Bone steak for three, shared by the three men. It was more than 3” thick and grilled on an open wood fire. It was devastatingly good, and I had the special treat of gnawing on the massive bone like a bull mastiff. A special dessert was two chocolate things with home-made vanilla flavored cream ice cream. The chef/proprietress, Dania, came over to say hello as did her husband, Umberto who seems to sit in the garden in a suit and tie and “preside” over the place. They also have 15 hotel rooms, and we looked at two of them and decided this would be heaven on earth. If I have waxed on about this one meal, it is because the food, service, and ambience created one of the best dining experiences any of us has ever had. Thank you Joyce!

However reluctant, we did have to push on, for we had one more city to visit before ending up at the Courtyard by Marriott Hotel at the Rome Airport (what a come down!). We went on to Orvieto in Umbria primarily to visit the Duomo there, one of the most exquisite in Italy. We were not disappointed. We subsequently voted it “best church exterior” because of the elaborate mosaics on the façade juxtaposed with white travertine marble and blue-grey basalt stone striped columns and walls. The sides feature the two stones in horizontal stripes. It is a very striking building in a city that is more bland than special.

And then we pushed on to our hotel at the airport and a very light 9:30 supper of salads and stale bread while we wrapped up “bests & worsts.” Not quite the way to end an Italian holiday, but after our lunch we were pretty much disinterested in any more food. Mark and I returned our van to Avis and were pleasantly surprised that they actually knew our story and were very ready to take one day off the charges and apologize for the faulty first van.

We are now at the Rome airport and about ready to board. We have all had a great time and what’s important, is that we’re all still on speaking terms after two weeks together. It was a strenuous trip both on and off the bikes yet we all feel the need to diet starting tomorrow. The food was exceptional, the scenery marvelous, and the history keeps reminding us how young America is. The Italians are always interesting to be with as they have a special quality of warmth, style, bravura, and chutzpah. It is, indeed, a country to be re-experienced again and again.

Puglia, Basilicata, & Umbria Regions of Italy--Part I-Biking in Puglia, 5/26-6/2/08

2008-06-02T18:21:00.002-04:00

When you turn 65 and are confronted with Social Security and Medicare, what do you do? You deny everything and defiantly go biking in Italy. Hence, on my 65th birthday Betsey and I, along with our friends Esta and Jay Feinsod and Mark and Jennifer Lapine, took off for six days of biking with Butterfield & Robinson in Puglia (the heel of the boot) Italy followed by five days of recovery in the Basilicata and Umbria regions. We are also biking with Trudie and Neil Pryor and Ian Shrank and Lexa Logue, friends we met on our Viet Nam bike trip and thirteen others from Colorado, California, and Canada. As it turns out, the Colorado and California groups are connected somehow and the Vancouver and Montreal couples came on their own.

On our first afternoon, we took a brief walk around old Brindisi, which doesn’t have a lot to offer in the way of sights to see although our hotel fronts the harbor out to the Adriatic and a Mussolini-ordered monument to seamen. Perhaps its claim to fame is it is the start of the Apian Way, the Roman road to Rome. Lots of Graffiti mar the scant charm we see. We met our Viet Nam trip friends for a festive reunion dinner at a well recommended restaurant and enjoyed many courses and bottles of vino together. We did skip the local delicacy---horse.

Brindisi is our jumping off point so after breakfast we boarded a bus and rode about an hour south to rendezvous with our custom Cannondale bikes and the trail. We have two guides- Giacomo, a Venetian, just back from two years at Vail, and Carlo, a Canadian with Italian roots. It appears that our fellow bikers are for the most part seriously good, so Betsey and I and the rest of the Stamford contingent follow at a more leisurely pace. It is pretty hot—mid 80’s I’d say, but fortunately there is a good breeze off the Adriatic and no humidity. Our morning ride is on rolling hills high above and alongside the Adriatic which is a vivid blue and blue green against a very clear blue sky. Puglia is the vegetable basket for Italy so we pass large fields of crops, a lot of golden wheat dotted with bright orange poppies and other wildflowers, and grove upon grove of olive trees. This is the largest olive-growing region of Italy and the groves are kept meticulously groomed. Weeds are raked and burned so the fields under the trees are for the most part clean and brown. Perhaps they want to be able to spot the fallen olives?

We stopped for lunch after about 11 miles in Otranto, a seaside beach town, and had a banquet lunch on the terrace. First, plate upon plate of freshly marinated or grilled vegetables—delicious—followed by plates of shrimp in a variety of ways, batter-fried vegetables, and several different kinds of pasta. Fully fortified, we did another 12 miles up some steep hills and through the gates of Masseria Montelauro, our hotel for the next two nights. Masserias are fortified stone farmhouses, usually walled compounds, which relate to the numerous Turkish invasions this region suffered centuries ago. Ours is about 200 hundred years old but just renovated and very comfortable. A dip in the pool was most welcome.

We gathered for some Proseco cocktails on the terrace and then made our way to a 13th century private castle nearby for dinner. We toured the lovely gardens and somewhat shopworn castle but the banquet room was totally elegant and the five-course dinner was delicious. Wonderful fresh vegetables (shockingly good eggplant parmagian) and pasta done imaginatively along with a choice of beef (our option) or shrimp, finished off with excellent local fruit and cakes. It went on forever, and we finished off with a concert of local music by a trio, but we were pretty wiped out and welcomed the return to our beds. Day one was clearly a success.

We started biking day two about 9am and had one of the most enjoyable and scenic rides we’ve ever done. Starting with wonderful, traffic-free flat lanes through countless olive groves, we eventually reached the Adriatic from high in the hills, offering us some spectacular views and a blessed long down-hill to Castro, a water-side village, for lunch. But first, Mark and I donned bathing suits and jumped into the Adriatic, which was crystal clear and incredibly icy-cold. Jay managed to get into his bathing suit and that was about as far as it went. The ladies contented themselves with putting their feet in the water, and even that was enough to cool everyone off. We had the good fortune to observe local “harvesting” when an older man jumped into the water with goggles and swam off only to return with a baby octopus in his grasp. He then methodically started ripping out the eyes and other organs and then proudly displayed his catch to the women, especially Betsey, while proudly exclaiming—“antipasto!”

Lunch, dare I say, was under a canvas canopy overlooking the sea with excellent pasta, grilled vegetables and salad to renew our energy and satisfy our stomachs sans octopus. To be honest, it was very difficult to pull us from the table and face the prospect of the ride home. Nevertheless, we did set out and shortly encountered one of the tougher hills we’ve climbed, but the ride ended, thankfully, along flat lanes in the olive groves, and we pulled into our Masseria 32 miles later---the longest ride in our biking history!

After naps, showers, and other methods of revitalization, we all met for cocktails on the terrace of our Masseria where we had a demonstration of pasta making and then enjoyed a very nice dinner al fresco. As one can imagine, it was relatively early to bed.

Day three of biking was more perfect weather, a bit hotter, but we set out at 9 sharp and the ride was probably our flattest yet. We were headed to Lecce and wound our way through many, many olive grooves along flat lanes and through fields of wild flowers that would make Lady Bird proud. Today we noticed many Furnis in the fields. These are cylindrical buildings made from stones gathered in the fields. They serve the purposes of providing a place to put all the stones that are picked up in the field and they become shelters for farmers who are minding the olive groves and are too far from home to go home each day. They are architecturally interesting and demonstrate, along with all the perfectly symmetrical walls that surround the olive groves, how skilled the Italians are at wall-building. It’s no wonder (and I say this with the utmost respect) that most of the stonemasons in Stamford are Italian.

We stopped for lunch at a Masseria that specializes in organic vegetables and they did not disappoint. It’s totally relaxing to sit under the grape arbor as plate upon plate of the freshest vegetable dishes are put before us. Yet again, it is very painful to get up and get back on the bike. But we do and complete our 32 mile journey by arriving in Lecce late in the afternoon.

Lecce is a Baroque Italian town that was first settled in the 6th century BC by Albanians and Greeks coming off the Adriatic. The architecture is all local Limestone and fancifully Baroque with florid details on many of the 100 churches to be found here. Also very evident and well preserved are the Roman ruins, including a quarter of a Roman amphitheatre, the other ¾ remaining under streets and houses. We had a tour of the town with a local guide and had drinks on a piazza before dinner at a local restaurant. Lots of wine was served with a mostly vegetarian meal, and Jennifer was the star of the evening going one-on-one with Ian in downing a local specialty, a fennel based liquor, with several shots taken. It was a fun and raucous walk back to the hotel.

We rose with a bit of a tremor on biking day four since this was to be our longest ride of the trip and, indeed, of our lives---39 miles. The day was warm but there was a nice breeze that turned into a stiff wind---in our faces—for a good part of the trip before lunch. Early on we passed through yet more olive groves, but we had a rest stop in a little beachside village overlooking the sea. We have discovered Granitas, which is a shaved lemon ice with some soda and is totally refreshing. At this rest stop they also had a pizza vending machine. You put your money in, choose a pizza variety and the dough drops down into a pan, the sauce and additions drop on top and it cooks for 3 ½ minutes and out pops a pizza on a cardboard plate! Efficient though it may be, it did not look like a Papas Pizza. No tasters in our group.

We headed out after a break and rode through big open fields with the wind stiff against us. It was a tough slog and we came to understand why we passed a huge wind farm along the way. We clocked 28 miles before lunch and with the wind, appetites and weariness were well in evidence. But first, we were treated to an olive oil tasting at the Masseria Monacelli where they have 50,000 olive trees. Wine tasting is definitely more enjoyable. The meal was hearty, but many of the ladies, the Stamford contingent included, opted for a van ride back to the hotel. The rest of us, with the wind to our backs and energized by lunch managed to complete the final 11 miles in record time. After refreshing showers, we did some shopping in Lecce and then all convened for a wine tasting before dinner. The wines here, though little known and low in price, are actually quite good. We tasted a Rose which we enjoyed so much we ordered it for dinner that night. The ten of us (Stamford plus Viet Nam cohorts) dined at a local restaurant and Mark treated many of us to Gelato. A perfect end to a long, long but satisfying day.

We had the good fortune to start out our 5th day of biking in a minivan, traveling a bit more than an hour to Ostuni, a medieval town high up in the hills overlooking the Adriatic. Since most of us were still recovering from yesterday’s long ride, a respite on a soft seat was welcome. Ostuni is a totally whitewashed town (they have a hundreds-year law that requires whitewashing your house twice a year using lime which is a disinfectant) with only 180 full time residents today but with many “holiday house” owners. It is a walled town with many narrow and twisted walks and lanes to discourage bandits and invaders from advancing in the town. High on top is a cathedral (of course) of Romanesque design and the lanterns and hanging flower baskets and interesting arches make it a feel-good place to visit. We have a local guide, Paula, who not only gives us the history but took us to a convent where there are only nine nuns remaining and introduced us to the mother superior, the youngest nun, a woman in her late 60’s. This convent will soon be closed and the nuns relocated to another convent since there is no heat and no hot water and it’s getting pretty tough for the 80-odd year old nuns to cope.

Paula was not only our guide but also our hostess at her family’s Villa and farm outside the town. But to get there we had to bike up the most vicious hill that nearly sucked the life out of us. Fortunately, the rest of the ride was pretty flat and brief –about 3 miles—and the treat at the end made it worthwhile. Paula’s ancestors established this farm in 1756 and it has remained in the family ever since. Farm understates this property as it has a large stone house, a separate chapel, walled citrus gardens, and a museum of the family’s and other hundreds-year-old coaches. Today it is a thriving business with pasta manufacturing, vegetable exporting and, of course, olive oil production. 80 people are employed and the plants operate 24/7. The setting is pretty spectacular and our guides brought in a picnic lunch of cheeses, cold meats, vegetables and local breads that was tasty and sufficient. It turns out that Butterfield & Robinson is the only tour group allowed to visit this farm so we had an exclusive visit to a very special place.

We set out for our next hotel and had the sweet pleasure of riding down the very excruciating hill we previously climbed. Our ride took us through lanes of olive groves with trees that could range from 800 to 1,000 years old. (Note to Stamfordites: I am so thankful that Mr Nojima chose Cherry trees and not Olive trees to plant in Mill River Park!) The older trees are remarkable in their gnarled and bent appearance. Apparently, Olive trees as they age push up their roots and grow over their roots, creating the gnarled look. The wind also plays a role. We also rode along the Adriatic for a while and although our total ride today was “only” 23 miles, it did seem endless and a stiff wind in our face didn’t help. Taking my shoes off and ingesting an ice cold Diet Coke was a just reward.

At the end of the road, however, was a very beautiful hotel of 28 attached rooms along a flower bedecked courtyard surrounded by a golf course. I think we will like our stay here. Dinner was at Masseria Parco di Castro, a 16th century food hall. We had many, many courses, most quite good, and, as usual, lots of wine. Another late evening but another good experience.

Bike trip 6, our last, started with a visit to a Mozzarella factory where we watched them make the Mozzarella and tasted several varieties of cheese. The cheese man then gave us wrapped presents, which were shaped like Mozzarella but turned out to be the customary Butterfield & Robinson tee shirts (they always try to present them in a creative way). We had already been presented with our B&R bike shirts at the start of the trip. Anyway, we then biked 11 miles through some of the prettiest scenery of our trip. Yes, there were olive groves, but often they were juxtaposed with vineyards and wheat fields and cherry orchards and rolls of hay. We are also in ‘Trulli” country. These are unique styles of limestone houses that were first introduced in the 17th and 18th centuries by Turks and other Eastern influencers. The original ones are built without mortar and the roofs are all cone-shaped of flat limestone with a pinnacle (like a weather vane that doesn’t move) of different designs based on the Trulli-builder. They dotted the landscape, which incidentally was very hilly and resulted in a lot of huffing and puffing.

Our destination was Alberobello, a town in the hills that was first established in the 17th century on what was a forest. The old section of town has 400 Trullis and is now a World Heritage sight. The newer section has 1200 Trullis so it is quite a sight to behold with all the various size cone roofs and pinnacles on display. It is also filled with tourists which made finding a lunch spot challenging but nine of us found a delightful place with a terrace and we enjoyed delicious pasta at a great price. I should say that if you want to avoid Euro-shock, come to Puglia. The prices are more than reasonable for excellent value received.

Since the morning ride had knocked the wind out of many bikers, including Esta, Betsey, and Jay (Jennifer was recovering from a cold and opted out for the whole day), Mark and I joined Ian and Lexa and another guy for the bike ride back. Big mistake! The ride had been billed primarily as a great long downhill to the coast with a little bit of hills on the way. Wrong. There were many hills and the worst one of the trip, at least a 60 degree angle, which inspired Mark and me to walk our bikes up the hill. We preferred to admit defeat than be buried in Puglia. The downhill was exhilarating but we pulled into the hotel pretty wiped out and happy to have completed this 18 mile final leg of the journey. Our totals for the whole trip---Betsey biked 148 miles and I biked 176.

We had our farewell dinner starting with cocktails on the rooftop of our hotel’s restaurant with lots of group photos (e.g. California group, Stamford group, Viet Nam group, Canadians, etc) and then proceeded to a formal banquet at one long table with many toasts from all corners. This was a particularly compatible group. The large western and eastern contingents meshed very well and the Canadians were adopted by all sides. It was not a very homogeneous group---gays, straights, business professionals, lawyers, retirees, good bikers and amateurs like us---and we all got along beautifully and had many good laughs. The dinner itself was not nearly as good as the wine, and after dinner we went out on the terrace and were met by a group of local musicians and dancers who not only serenaded and performed for us but also got all of us up on the dance floor doing weak but vigorous imitations of the local southern Italian folk dances. Final goodbyes were said with everyone promising to stay in touch and perhaps travel on another B&R trip together. Good promises and good intentions. We hope to see everyone on some road some day.

Expedition Cruise in Costa Rica & Panama

2008-02-03T20:02:00.000-05:00

1/26-2/2/08

We’re on the road again. Having returned from Antarctica on January 8th, we’ve done our laundry and sorted the mail and headed south again. I will spare you the details of our enjoyable visit with Jed in Atlanta or our road trip down the east coast of Florida visiting friends and family. We’re now in San Jose, Costa Rica where tomorrow we will board the Lindblad Expeditions ship, the Sea Voyager, for a cruise down the west coasts of Costa Rica and Panama and eventually a passage through the Panama Canal. We were supposed to go on this trip with our friends, Esta & Jay Feinsod and Arnie Schwartz; indeed, it was the Feinsods who suggested the trip and persuaded us to hit the road again. Unfortunately, a brief illness forced them to cancel. But Arnie and we press on…

This is our second time in Costa Rica but Arnie’s first, so in the morning we went into town to show Arnie the few sights of note. It was a beautiful day without a cloud in the sky and we enjoyed walking around downtown, visiting the Cathedral, national theatre and walking streets. After a lunch back at the hotel, we headed to the airport to meet the rest of our group where we boarded a bus for a 2 ½ hour ride on a paved mule trail to our boat on the Pacific coast.

Costa Rica is a beautiful country. Its rugged, volcanic mountains made it inhospitable to invaders but very conducive to coffee growing which established the country economically in the late 18th century. Today it has a solid middle class population with a 97% literacy rate, one of the world’s lowest infant mortality rates and best longevity rates (average 76 years). There is a very stable democracy, socialized medicine, about 40 universities, and a wonderful climate. Moreover, they have not had an army since 1948. One could do worse than retire here, and many Americans do.

Our ship turns out to be quite luxurious, certainly much more so than our Antarctic ship. Of note---a self-dispensing soda machine with free Diet Coke! Our cabin is pretty spacious with a queen-size bed and even a couch. There are 54 passengers on board, all from the United States it turns out, albeit with a good range of states represented. Funny that there are no other nationalities on board after our much more international Antarctic cruise. We have 26 alumni and spouses from MIT on board traveling together, which should make cocktail conversations interesting. The average age is closer to Arnie’s than ours, and we seem to be among the younger people on board. Among the passengers are 10 doctors, not including PhD’s. We have five naturalist guides from Ecuador, Panama, Costa Rica and the US. So far Lindblad is impressive.

We’re up early on our first day at sea having motored down the coast to Manuel Antonio National Park. This is the country’s first and smallest national park. We hike in the rain forest for about two hours on pretty rugged terrain. It’s quite dense and humid but we enjoy spotting Agouti which look like large rats about the size of a cat; leaf carrying ants which are diligently crossing our paths with heavy burdens of cut leaves on their backs; Howler monkeys; and assorted birds. And of course sloths, which look like big blobs of grayness hanging from a tree and whose name perfectly connotes their personalities. Afterwards, we enjoy a swim in the ocean. The water is delicious, warmer than our pool—which doesn’t say much, but when Betsey is the first one in, that says it all.

The afternoon is spent relaxing on deck as we motor on, watching the occasional school of dolphins following the boat. We have a briefing after cocktails and then dinner. The evening sky is splendidly filled with stars. And so to bed after checking the internet and learning of Caroline Kennedy’s endorsement of Obama and Ted’s to come. This campaign is getting very interesting.

We’re up bright and early the next morning to face two long hikes in rain forests. We’re now down along the Osa Peninsula in southwestern Costa Rica. Our first stop is a privately owned reserve, Caletas, and we hike in the forest for about two hours. In these rain forests they receive about 10-12 feet of rain a year! We come upon a family of Capuchin monkeys and enjoy watching them cavort. There are more than 500 species of trees in these forests. Indeed, Costa Rica is one of the most bio-diverse countries in the world. We spotted a Toucan and Hummingbird but we don’t see a lot of wildlife. The forest is so dense and also daytime is not the most conducive time to see mammals.

After returning to the ship for lunch and rest while the ship moves farther down the coast, we land at Corcovado National Park which is accessible only by air or sea. There are no roads, and we are in one of the densest forests we’ve ever seen. This hike is single file along a very narrow path and we have to fjord a river in knee-deep water. Again, wildlife is scarce but the greenery and diversity are quite sufficient to keep us interested. At the end of our hike we arrive at an impressive waterfall, all the more impressive because it’s the dry season. We double back a bit to take a swim in a delightfully chilly watering hole. It has been so hot and humid that Betsey jumps right in. We are renewed and refreshed for the hike back to the beach.

Later on, we enjoy gin & tonics while we watch a splendid sunset. Life is good.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008 is not only primary day in Florida, it’s exercise day on the Sea Voyager. We’re going kayaking. At least Arnie and I are as Betsey opts for a bird-watching, botanic walk instead. We get launched off the back of the boat, and while we are waiting we watch manta rays jumping totally out of the water. No one seems to know why they do it, but it’s humorous to watch them leaping. Anyway, we are kayaking in the Golfo Dulce, one of the deepest gulfs of its size in the world. The water is like glass so kayaking is smooth and we glide along the Mangrove estuaries and into a river. In all we kayak about two hours and more than two miles so it was a good workout. In Costa Rica the shoreline is considered public property for 50 meters (about 150 feet) so the coast and the mangroves are protected. Another example of this country’s conservation leadership.

As a matter of fact Costa Rica is ranked in the top ten for ecological responsibility. More than 30% of the land is under protection as national parks, and there is planning to begin linking the parks with protection corridors so that species can migrate across the country and have larger habitats. Since Costa Rica is one of the most bio-diverse countries in the world, it’s wonderful that they feel this sense of responsibility and also realize the significant economic advantages (ecotourism has now passed bananas in revenue and is second only to coffee).

But I digress. After our kayaking experience, we returned to the ship and most of us, Betsey included, went swimming off the stern.

In the afternoon we headed to Casa Orquideas, a tropical garden run by an aging hippie American couple who started it 27 years ago. It’s accessible only by boat and started as a vegetable garden and now is a beautiful series of gardens of all manner of native flora and fauna with almost 1,000 plant species including orchids, hibiscus, and other tropicals. We spot Macaws flying overhead and enjoy the afternoon. I swim back to the boat to finish off the day.

Our next day is one of R&R (as if we’ve been suffering). We have cruised 160 nautical miles overnight into Panama, and our first stop is Isla Coiba National Park, the third largest marine park in the world, after the Great Barrier Reef and Galapagos. We disembarked for the morning on a tiny gem of an island (it looks like a miniature version of Tom Hank’s Castaway island) called Granito de Oro (little grains of gold). The draw here is snorkeling, and Arnie and I did just that, the first time for me in 17 years, and now I wonder why I haven’t done it again sooner. There was superb fish watching around the reef that abuts the island. We must have seen at least 30 different species of tropical fish of luminous color. The water was clear and warm and conditions couldn’t have been better. Betsey relaxed on the island and then later we all kayaked around the little island a couple of times and went for a swim. Yes, Betsey has now been swimming four days in a row!

After lunch, we set out to cruise down the coast. The Panamanian coastline looks much like Costa Rica’s---lush and green with very little development in sight. The country broke away from Columbia in a one day bloodless revolution engineered by Teddy Roosevelt as a famous example of “gunboat diplomacy.” A U.S. gunboat stood off shore preventing Columbia from sending in troops. The Trophy of course was the right for the US to build the Panama Canal on its own terms that it quickly negotiated. Today, canal revenues (Panama took control of the canal in 2000) are the third largest revenue providers to the country. The highest revenue comes from banking since Panama is second only to Switzerland as a banking center; the next highest revenue comes from duty-free shopping and the tourism that goes with it. We spent part of the afternoon watching a David McCullough video on the history of the canal, but more about that later.

A word about our fellow passengers. They are all pretty convivial and so very interesting. Betsey and I feel like the village dunces because we only have one degree. Putting aside the MIT group on board (many of whom married brilliant spouses from places like Stanford and Harvard), no one is a slouch. We have a former Assistant Secretary of Commerce who now is Special Assistant to the Secretary of Homeland Security (interesting conversation there!); an economist who now heads a Farm Issues NGO; an entrepreneur who created National Allergen.com to sell allergy protection products; A retiree who headed a division at Sikorsky; a toxicologist who was with the FDA, etc etc etc. It’s interesting that this kind of cruise has attracted such a high caliber of people, and we find the conversations pretty fascinating. Oh yes, there’s one other ad guy on board; he went to Harvard!

We awoke in the Gulf of Panama having traveled 190 nautical miles south. This morning we are visiting Otoque Oriente, a charming fishing village of about 600 inhabitants on an isolated island that is so unspoiled there are no tee shirts or any other souvenirs for that matter for sale. Though isolated, they do have electricity and therefore television and boom boxes as well as a telephone booth from which all calls are made. A freighter comes by about every two weeks bringing supplies but fishing seems to be the sole economic activity. They have a clinic with a medical person who comes twice a month, and a priest comes once a month. There is also a school through 9th grade and further schooling is off the island. The houses are concrete in various pastel shades, and the population seems mostly indigenous people. They seem quite content.

We capped the morning off with a zodiac cruise around Bona Island, a major breeding site for coastal birds. We see literally thousands of Frigates, Brown Boobies, and one Blue-footed Boobie, Turkey Vultures, and plenty of Pelicans. Of course, Betsey and I forgot our binoculars on the boat, but the birds were so plentiful we didn’t miss them.
A swim off the stern in much cooler and stronger-current waters ended my morning, but Betsey skipped the opportunity, thus breaking her four-day streak.

After lunch we arrived at the entrance to the Panama Canal outside Panama City. Our first surprise was seeing Panama City from the sea. It reminded us of Miami---tall skyscrapers and apartment towers along the coast. I guess we envisioned another sleepy San Jose. Not! In the Gulf are dozens of freighters at anchor waiting for clearance to enter the canal. We drop anchor and wait our turn.

It was De Lesseps, the French entrepreneur who built the sea-level Suez Canal, who announced in 1888 he was going to build a sea-level canal across the isthmus of Panama. Ten years later and 20,000 lives lost to Malaria, Yellow Fever, and accidents, not to mention total bankruptcy, the French pulled out—a huge national embarrassment. Then along came Teddy Roosevelt and the Americans took over in 1904. The first decision was to abandon the French plan for a sea-level canal since the isthmus was bisected by the Chagres River, which can rise and fall by a wide margin depending on the season. The mountains of the Continental Divide added to the challenge plus the fact that the tide on the Pacific coast can be 20 feet while the Caribbean side has very little tide change.

The solution was a series of locks---two locks on the Pacific side and one on the Caribbean coast. The Chagres River was dammed creating the world’s largest artificial lake at the time, Gatun Lake. This lake provides passage and also the water to fill the locks and raise ships the necessary 85 feet above sea level. The nine-mile Gaillard trench, originally started by the French, is also part of the 50-mile transit. The Americans finished the job in ten years—earlier than scheduled, under budget, and without any hint of scandal. Those were the days!

We had cocktails on the top deck while we waited our turn and after dinner we went up top to watch the action. We shared the first two locks with a large freighter and it was fascinating to watch the process. There are tracks on either side of the locks and up to eight electric locomotives are used to guide the ships through the locks. Our boat has four locomotives, two on each side. I am sure you all know the fundamentals of how these locks work, but seeing it in the flesh and realizing this concept and engineering are almost 100 years old (the canal opened in 1914), leaves one almost awe-struck. All of us on board were excited and mesmerized by the process, especially given the drama of a night-time entrance. You can imagine the enthusiasm of the MIT engineers.

The Panamanians who took over the canal from the US in 2000 (we remain the guarantors of the canal’s free passage to all nations), have done an excellent job. The areas we see are spotless and they have brought the average number of accidents down from the American average of 70 a year to 6. Now they are building additional locks at both ends that will enable today’s super ships to pass through, and this work is expected to be completed in 2010.

We head for bed as we make our way through the Gaillard trench to Gatun lake where we will anchor for the night. We are the only ship authorized to spend the night in the canal.

February 1st, our last full day on board, we are just off Barro Colorado Island National Park, a scientific research center established by Congress in 1923 and run by the Smithsonian. We went on shore and spent almost three hours in this island rain forest where we spotted Capuchin, Spider, and Howler monkey troops (the Howlers sound like lions!), Agoutis, Toucans, and assorted other wildlife. The forest was about as dense as we’ve seen and the work-out stomping through it helped us work off some of the excellent cuisine we’ve had on the boat.

We spent the afternoon getting into position to take the final three-chamber lock that would bring us to the Caribbean side of the canal. The lanes were pretty crowded and we shared the lock with a huge container ship in front of us and the cruise ship, Island Princess, along side us since this afternoon they were using both lock lanes to go east-bound. The process is fascinating and very efficient. Colon, our destination port, is just outside the Caribbean exit and we dock at 5:30pm. This cruise has options going in both directions, but all of us are happy we took the cruise from Costa Rica to Panama since the finale of the canal crossing is a perfect climax for the trip.

Our final dinner is spent reminiscing about the highpoints of the trip with each of us telling the group what we liked most. We haven’t done our “Bests and Worsts” yet since we are spending an extra half day in Panama City so the trip isn’t quite over. I cannot leave our cruise without expressing great compliments to Lindblad National Geographic. Everything was first rate, from the ship itself, the crew (when did Betsey last kiss the waiters goodbye?), the naturalists and the professionalism of the whole operation. I can recommend them without hesitation.

Our last morning with the group was spent taking a bus from Colon on the Caribbean side back to the Pacific. We stopped at the Miramar Canal Lock where there is a visitor center and a very good museum with the history, ecology, and engineering of the Canal illustrated. Finally, and inevitably, our one and only stop at a crafts center. Then Arnie, Betsey and I took a cab into Panama City where we will stay the night. We were unaware when we made these plans that we were actually arriving for Mardi Gras. So after lunch we headed to Carnavale—a family-friendly parade with floats and marchers galore. It was a nice bonus and good fun and many of the spectators were as colorful and interesting as the paraders. We finished off the evening with a very delicious Italian dinner at a nearby restaurant.

February 3rd, the last day of our trip and we hired a guide to take us on a tour of old Panama City. First, however, some facts about Panama today. Panama City has a population of 1.3million or almost half of the country’s total population. It is a booming city with scores of new high rises going up, particularly in the new Punta Pacifica section, including a Trump Ocean Club apartment tower. It seems the banking, low/no taxes for expats, and the duty-free aspects are making Panama a real draw. There is also talk of the Columbian drug money financing a lot of the development. Many Americans, Columbians, and Venezuelans are buying places here.

Old Panama City is where the city began and it is in transition. It had been very run down with a very poor population, but the government is facilitating development and relocating people to new housing projects so the process of gentrification can accelerate. The President and Mayor live here in quite nice houses. We are able to walk right up to the President’s house with minimal security inspection, although the quarter is heavily covered by police. Our guide tells us they are filming a James Bond movie here and so security is strong.

The architecture reminds us the Latin Quarter of New Orleans with balconied buildings, interesting lamp posts and narrow brick streets. Gentrification is well in progress, and we can see that this will be a “hot” neighborhood. There are plans for a number of 5 star hotels and new restaurants are being established (Joyce Ackerman, take note for future visitors). The city’s cathedral and oldest churches are here as well as the national theater, a jewel box to be sure.

We are now back at the hotel and about to head to the airport. We’re very glad we took an extra day to explore this vibrant city, although today, Sunday, is deserted as everyone is either recovering from last night’s Mardi Gras celebration or preparing for this afternoon’s in the city or out in the country for the numerous parades and celebrations in the villages. This is a four-day national holiday after all.

We have loved this trip and its mix of history, ecology, sport, and culture.

Argentina & Antarctica 12/24/07-1/8/08

2008-01-07T06:32:00.000-05:00

Buenos Aires
How do you get your kids to travel with you? Pick an exotic location. We’re off on another adventure---to Antarctica—and our sons, Adam and Jed, are along with us and are our official photographers. I must confess, I was the instigator of the trip since I wanted to see this continent before it melts. We decided to spend Christmas in Buenos Aires on our way down to Ushuaia where we’ll pick up our expedition ship, and we all rendezvoused in Atlanta for the flight to Buenos Aires. We were met by our guide for the city, Maria O’Connor, who was highly recommended by Nick Grouf. She dropped us at our hotel, the Alvear Palace where we enjoyed an elegant and plentiful brunch as the guests of our friend, Daniel Melendez, who once was a part owner of the hotel. Needless to say, we are being treated well.

On our way out to walk the neighborhood Betsey slipped on a step and twisted her ankle. We’d have had to shoot her if we were on an iceberg, but here we got her some ice and she is working through it. After dinner at the hotel, Adam and I enjoyed one of Buenos Aires’ specialties—ice cream. The Dulce De Leche was exquisite.

Up the next morning, and Betsey’s ankle was OK. Maria picked us up and we set out to tour the city. Buenos Aires is a large city with wide boulevards lined with Agapanthus plants and vest pocket parks here and there. The architecture is a mix of Italianate, French, and 1960’s Latin American modern with a little gothic here and there. Unfortunately, the city is scarred by graffiti and looks a bit worn. It has been a slow comeback from the 2001 economic collapse. I noted that for a Catholic country I was surprised by the minimal Christmas decorations, and Maria said it was less than in the past and perhaps a result of post-election depression. Argentina recently elected the wife of the former president, and Maria said it was very clear the couple had bought the election, literally paying the uneducated 50 pesos for each vote.

We visited many of the different neighborhoods and passed by the site of the 1992 bombing of the Israeli embassy that is now a small memorial park and then the empty site of the 1994 Jewish Community Center bombing where a policeman stopped Adam from taking pictures. Argentina has the third largest concentration of Jews outside of Israel. It seems towards the end of the 19th century Argentina was opened up to immigration of Europeans so there was a large influx of Jews escaping the Russian pogroms and also Italians escaping from I don’t know what.

We had lunch in the Palermo Soho section of the city that has many boutiques. This is steak country and for lunch we split three different kinds of steaks. There were huge helpings and many side dishes and sauces. The beef was delicious. It fortified us for more shopping. Argentina is one of the few places where the dollar is strong against the local currency, and we took advantage to stock up on some leather goods and such. All of us so far, except Betsey! Dinner was at another steak place down by the river in an old warehouse. We sat out on a terrace and enjoyed the view, the steak, and the fine Argentinean wines.

Next morning we were on our own for our last day in Buenos Aires. It turned out to be a near disaster. Maria had suggested taking a one-hour hydrofoil ride to Colonia, a small ancient village in Uruguay. The concierge said the ferry was sold out but we had a shot if we went down to the terminal and certainly could make the second ferry. We spent over an hour on an interminable line only to be totally shut out. Plan B was a contemporary art museum to which we taxied and discovered it was closed for renovation. Fortunately, it was in the funky old Italian neighborhood of La Boca which was characterized by multi-colored wood and corrugated steal houses, over-the-hill Tango dancers with their hats out, and local artists pushing their wares. We wandered and enjoyed the people-watching and had lunch in a former bordello that was recommended and fair.

Our next stop was another museum, which also turned out to be closed for renovation. The taxi driver that took us there tried to rip us off by switching bills I gave him and while we argued, his cab was side-swiped by a bus which added to the brouhaha. Having reclaimed our cash and honor, we did enjoy wandering in this antiques district and then walking to the Pink House, the Argentinean White House, except they don’t sleep there. We did a little shopping and Betsey met success. Then, we headed back to the hotel to rest and out for an excellent Italian dinner.

Ushuaia
Next morning we were off to Ushuaia, the bottom of the world as they say. Our flight was marked by a strange occurrence as we stopped midway in this 3+ hour flight to refuel! We landed at a desolate airport where the land looked like African bush country. Up again in 25 minutes we finally arrived in Ushuaia, a small village ringed by the snow-capped Andean mountains leading down to the harbor stocked with cruise ships of all sizes. Ushuaia reminds us of Sitka, Alaska with one shopping street lined with souvenir shops and stores selling all kinds of weather gear. We dined at an excellent restaurant recommended by the Boehm’s and had delicious fresh scallops and sea bass caught in the bay. We stopped by the small, sad casino so Betsey could lose four pesos in the slots and then came back to our hotel, still light at 10:30pm.

On Saturday, December 29th we met our entire group. We traveled in two buses to the Tierra Del Fuego national park, the most southern native forest in the world. It’s a lush forest that borders the Beagle Channel, a waterway connecting the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans with Chile on one side and Argentina on the other. The water is clear and cold, with greenish beaches from the slate rock formations. After three hours of hiking and touring we finished up with an Argentinean barbecue lunch of lamb and chicken.

Drake Passage
We boarded the Orlova at 4PM. Luxury it isn’t, and our cabin is compact to say the least, e.g. our toilet is in the shower. But it will be home for the next ten days, all 295 feet of her. It has a Russian crew with a very diverse expedition staff. US, English, German, Australian. The passengers—there are 94 of us—are also diverse. We are surprised that there are many singles on board, a few families, and plenty of couples, and a college school group. Many nationalities are represented including Chinese, Japanese, German, Austrian, French, Italian, Australian, New Zealanders, and yes, Americans.

We left port at 6:25 and headed out the Beagle Channel towards the dreaded Drake Passage, the roughest water in the world. We hear rumors that the Passage was calm yesterday, and we are hopeful. The temperature has been pretty moderate all day—in the high 40’s/low 50’s so maybe we will enjoy great weather. We shall see.

And we do see. The first night’s passage is relatively calm. I say relatively because there is no lack of big rolling waves that pitch the ship from side to side, but no one appears deathly ill and our family is fine or almost completely fine. It doesn’t get dark here until after 11 so we have plenty of time to watch the sea and look for birds. We have several briefings by the expedition staff who tell us about the birds, the seals, the penguins and such. The staff is both knowledgeable and enthusiastic.

We spend the day attending briefings, watching the water for sight of birds and our first whales or seals, and napping (often in the briefings as the room is hot and the talk not always the most scintillating). And eating. The food is acceptable and sometimes pretty good. Our biggest excitement this first day in the passage is sighting a couple of different varieties of Albatross. While we didn’t see the largest, Royal Albatross, the ones we saw had a mighty wingspan of more than six feet. They are amazing in that they can fly continuously for up to seven years, sleeping in the air while they circle the globe, swooping down to the sea for meals.

Entertainment at night is a four-part series from A&E on Ernest Shackleton’s Endurance voyage. I’m not sure this tale of icebergs crushing a ship and the battle for survival in the arctic is the ideal entertainment choice as we head towards our destiny.

South Shetland Islands in Antarctica
We reached the outer islands of Antarctica around noon on New Year’s Eve without incident. Gale force winds (on a standard scale of 1-12 we were in an 8) behind us led to an early arrival, and surprisingly, we were able to get a good night’s sleep despite 10-12 foot rolling waves. Our first sight of this continent was dark rock cliffs and white and bluish icebergs in stark angular shapes jutting up from the rough seas. A strikingly barren but beautiful scene to behold even as we had been prepared by photos and florid descriptions. As we head into the shelter of a bay, we are followed by penguins swimming alongside and looking like mini-dolphins jumping out of the water.

We had to change course and headed to Deception Island where we are to rendezvous with another ship headed back to Ushuaia that will pick up one of our passengers who has a blood clot and needs to return for care in Ushuaia. What a shame to come this far, only to have to instantly turn around and cross the dreaded Drake Passage and go back.

After an early dinner, we headed for our first landing. Up close the island is volcanic and reminds us of Etna in Sicily, but cold and without the steam since it hasn’t erupted since 1970. The crew did a very efficient job, getting all 93 of us on land in about 20 minutes in shifts of zodiac rubber boats. We hiked up to the rim of the crater, which had a powerful waterfall flowing down and enjoyed the awesome view. Later we were met by two large Weddell seals lollygagging on the beach and were entertained by a group of chinstrap penguins that preened and showed off for the tourists. A fun first landing. We headed back after an hour to party. It’s New Year’s Eve after all.

New Year’s was “interesting.” I thought it rather appalling that with all that we spent for this trip, they didn’t see fit to offer an open bar this night. They did serve champagne at midnight and a cake in the shape of a penguin, and that was pretty much it Not even a peanut. Nevertheless, we did enjoy ourselves, spending time with new acquaintances from New Zealand, the UK, and Poland. Near midnight we all congregated outside on the back deck to toast the new year and shiver in the Antarctic cold. It’s weird celebrating when it’s still so light out. Indeed, it is now 1:50am and it’s still light out. I’m not going to wait up to see when or if it actually gets dark.

When we did awake, the ship had moved to snow and ice covered Half Moon Island, and we soon went ashore where we found hundreds and hundreds of Chinstrap penguins and one fur seal. While we didn’t see the predatory Leopard seal, we speculated we had seen its handiwork. One poor Chinstrap stood alone, barely moving and covered in blood. Here, too, we find nesting penguins and see a hatched chick and some abandoned cracked eggs. This is the time the eggs are hatching so it’s a good time to be here. From the ship we had seen what looked like a narrow pink ski slope running into the ocean. What it turned out to be was a penguin trail colored by penguin guano (poop). Off in the distance rose two enormous aquamarine-blue icebergs.

Once we were on the island one could experience guano in most places and the pungent smell in non-windy areas added to the character of the place. That is the reason every time we go back on the ship we have to go through a boot bath where our ship-supplied boots are scrubbed and disinfected. It is a very windy morning and on our way back to the ship we are constantly splashed with sea spray. Betsey says, “if my friends could see me now!”

Our afternoon expedition is to an abandoned whaling station back on Deception Island. First established in 1911 and later taken over by the British at the start of World War II to thwart an enemy trying to control the Atlantic to Pacific passage, the site is now abandoned and collapsing buildings, rusted oil and blubber tanks that look like a massive Richard Sera installation, and the occasional whale bone. In Antarctica, since the treaty that controls the continent, virtually everything is left the way it was found, and no one is allowed to take anything, not even a pebble, off the continent. We hiked about ¾ mile up to Neptune’s Window, which looks down on a beautiful black sand beach and green-watered inlet.

A key feature of this stop is the polar swim. Apparently there are a few thermal springs that bubble up at the edge of the beach, and this is license for fools and romantics to strip down and dive in. They immediately discover that the only part of the ocean that’s warm is the two inches that touch the beach. The average swim seems to last 15 seconds in the 34 degree water. Count Adam and Jed amongst the surprisingly large number of participants. They are proud of their accomplishment and have certificates to prove it.

Everyone was pretty pooped in the evening after two excursions and the quick dip, and dinner was mediocre at best. The service in the dining room is very uneven, mostly un, and the Russian waitresses just can’t crack a smile. But we’re not here for the luxe life, so we move on.

Antarctica
The dulcet tones of our expedition leader awaken us each morning with a little homily about the morning, but on this morning he calls us at 6:30 and dulcet tones or no, it’s not the most welcome. But it’s worth it as we are about to head into the Lemaire Channel, which will give us our first look at the actual Antarctic continent (versus the islands) itself. Before heading into an early breakfast we spot some Humpback Whales off in the distance, noticed by their spouting. After breakfast, everyone heads to the decks for a spectacular show. The Channel is quite narrow and lined on either side by craggy snow-covered mountains and glacial ice shelves. Icebergs flow by and we deftly avoid them. Penguins leap through the waters and the water itself is crystal clear. We spend about an hour passing through the Channel and just gape at the power and beauty of raw nature. Talk about a winter wonderland.

Our morning excursion takes us to Petermann Island, just across from the mainland. Pungent Petermann is filled with penguins that stand on the rocks and greet us with their bleating as we land. We see three varieties of penguins on this island—orange-beaked Gentoos, black-headed Adelies, and the occasional Chinstrap. The birth cycle is farther along down here (we are at our southernmost point of the trip) and mother penguins are sitting on their two-three week old chicks that are now taking tentative steps. On one large rock formation amongst the penguins are nests of Blue-eyed Shags, large birds that actually closely resemble penguins in color and body shape. The Shags also have their chicks so it’s one big happy family.

Penguins are a sight to behold. They keep you laughing all the time. They amble like a cross between a tuxedo-clad drunk and a toddler. They hop up on rocks and slide on their stomachs to make time. They chatter away and stare at you with fearless curiosity. They are fast swimmers and leap from the water like dolphins. Aside from their guano remembrances—both nasal and visual—they are a treat.

The island’s other treat is a natural place for sleigh riding, albeit there are no sleds around. This doesn’t stop the ambitious who body surf down the steep incline, Jed and Adam amongst them. Jed and I then ventured out the other end of the island where we spotted some fur seals and more bergs.

During our stay on this island we hear the distant growls of the glaciers on the mainland. We didn’t actually see any calving (ice falling off the glacier) although some other passengers did, but we are told that there is steady movement of the glacial ice as the summer warmth sets in. The rumbling reminds us actually of how quiet it usually is out here. Other than our ship’s engines, this is a very quiet, non-industrial continent.

In the afternoon we come through Andvord Bay (everything here seems to be named after an explorer, someone who sponsored an explorer, or a ship or fishing occupation) and head for Neko Harbor for our first landing on the actual Antarctic Peninsula. What’s most interesting to me about this landing is the view it affords across the harbor to the glacial ice. There are large fissures etched in vivid aquamarine blue. We are told that the reason for the appearance of blue color in the ice is that the ice is so compressed it absorbs all the colors except blue which is reflective. At any rate the whites and the blues in so many different jagged shapes and sizes are stunning.

Oh yes, there were also penguins on the visit and two young Elephant seals playing in the water. They are called Elephant seals because they have big noses. This is the first landing we’ve made while it is snowing. Indeed, it is our first real snow, and it picks up a bit as our visit ends and we also notice the ice has started closing in on the beach. It is time to get back on board.

The snow didn’t deter the ship’s crew from holding a barbecue for us on the open deck. We pass through the buffet line that has quite a good lard-on and politely decline to sit out in the snow. The warmth of the dining room is welcome although there were some stalwarts who ate outside. Later that night---at 10pm—the sun comes out and we go on deck to see some more scenery as we pass through Neumayer Channel and thence to bed.

Roger Benedict, our expedition leader, waxes eloquent each morning as he wakes us up and mellifluously describes the morning. He’s from Eureka, California and has the aura of EST about him. This morning, he describes the flat water and still breezes as a “gift of the angels holding back the wind.” It’s also a blistering 44+ degrees; we de-layer accordingly. Our morning expedition is to a gift shop! Actually we are visiting Port Lockroy, long ago a whaling station and then, briefly, a British naval outpost at the beginning of World War II before becoming a scientific base for many years. Today three Brits from the UK Antarctic Historic Trust run the place as a museum, gift shop and post office and receive 16,000 tourist visitors a year. We do some damage and also visit the Gentoo penguin rookeries where the chicks are hatching.

A word about penguin behavior. They mate for life and the females usually lay two eggs which in all likelihood result in one adult penguin since the eggs are often stolen by Skua birds or the chicks are eaten by seals. It’s not all fun and glory. The penguins build nests out of pebbles that they painstakingly carry up from the beach one at a time; or they steal them from other nests. We saw one harried mom sitting on her eggs while simultaneously fighting off two other penguins that were intent on stealing her stones. Multi-tasking with no mate in sight.

This must be civilization day on our cruise because our afternoon expedition, a 2 ½ hour sail away, is Waterboat Point which is part of the Peninsula during low tide. It is low tide, so this is our second mainland landing. We are visiting Gonzales Videla Station that is seasonally manned by the Chilean Air Force (They once landed sea planes here) and is named after a president of Chile who in 1948 was the first head of state to visit Antarctica. Indeed, he may also have been the last. At any rate it is essentially one big pile of rock, mud, and guano and smells accordingly. It features a famous Gentoo albino penguin pair, and we spot one of them that surprisingly is pretty white considering the mud. The highlights of this expedition were the Zodiac boat ride to the island where we got pretty close to the glacial walls and the ride back when we pulled up to a floating iceberg where a Leopard seal was relaxing. Occasionally a penguin would hop on board only to immediately retreat when it spotted the predatory seal.

Later that evening while we were sitting over coffee and desert, a school of Orca whales was spotted off the starboard bow and everyone leapt into action to watch. The captain obliged us by turning around and for an hour we watched three Orcas gracefully swimming around the ship. A flock of Giant Petrel birds were hovering over the whales and following them to pick up loose bits of debris from whatever the whales had caught and eaten earlier. The sun was out, and it had turned much colder but seeing the whales was a thrill and seeing the bright sun on the mountains and icebergs was equally as thrilling.

We awoke the next morning, our final morning in Antarctica, to bright sunshine. A beautiful day for our last land excursion-- to Danco Island. I don’t know if it was the sunshine or the scenery, but this was our most beautiful landing site, a small island that hugs the west coast of the Antarctic Peninsula. We hike to the top of the peak which is nearly 2000 feet high and have a 360 degree view of the mountains and the bay below. We see icebergs as large and larger than our ship (295 feet), and they gleam white and blue in the sunlight. Amazingly, 97% of an iceberg is invisible under water.

Have I sounded off about the quiet? At the top of the peak it hits me. Except for the occasional growl of a calving or the bleating of the penguins we are in a silent world. On Danco even the penguins seem quieter and some of them have rookeries at the very top of the peak. They have a long way to the water but what a view! Anyway, I think the stillness and silence, the complete solitude, of Antarctica is one of the most unique aspects of the place.

After our hike to the top and slow descent, we had a cruise in our zodiacs in the bay around the island. We were right in the midst of the icebergs and ice floes and it was humbling to be so up close and personal to these sculptures of nature. We just missed an iceberg calving and watched in wonder as the two remaining halves rocked like giant bobbing apples in the clear waters.

Back on board we cruised after lunch past a series of islands and had the good fortune to spot and admire several pairs of Humpback whales in the channel. Often they came close to the ship and gave us quite a show as they dove and spouted and occasionally flipped up their tails.

Dinner tonight was authentic Russian to honor the flag our ship flies and its crew. It included a free shot of vodka, borscht and beef stroganoff. It tasted about what you’d expect a Russian meal to taste like. Today we were celebrating the betrothal of Gavin from Australia and Martha from the UK whom we’ve gotten to know on the ship. Gavin popped the question on Port Lockroy and the couple will ultimately head back to Australia for a long and happy life together. We hope! We find the composition of the passengers to be very compatible. At every meal we’re likely to sit with some different people or people we’ve come to know and like. Most are well traveled, and probably twenty or more count this as the seventh continent they’ve visited. One man from Poland and now a retired professor from Michigan and UNC is the son of Poland’s head of the Central Bank and the son in law of a Polish Politboro member. This man also turns out to the inventor of the 401K retirement plan.

A special treat after dinner was a long cruise in the zodiacs around the Melchior Islands at the mouth of the Drake Passage. We notice the increase in wave action, but it’s a beautiful “night” even with the sun in full splendor at 8:30pm. We circled several little islands up close and some big icebergs, also up close. In several places on the islands you could see the striation of the ice which serves as a calendar much like the rings of a tree do. You can tell which seasons had heavy snow and which didn’t by the thickness of the bands. Everywhere we look we see snow and ice covered ranges and we are reminded that 97% of Antarctica is snow or ice. We asked Phil, our zodiac driver, about global warming. He’s spent a few winters here and several summers. He told us that in the 50 years that they have been keeping weather records in Antarctica the temperature has warmed 2 degrees. This is a lot, but since 50 years is such a tiny amount of time to measure a weather trend, no one is prepared to take a position on global warming as it might affect Antarctica. The fact that it is a continent surrounded by water with strong winds and currents suggests that this continent will be less affected.

The Return
We stay up late tonight and the bar is full as we all bid farewell to Antarctica and toast the 12:30am sunset and our entry into the Drake Passage. Our crossing this time is relatively uneventful. The waters seem calmer although the wind has the swells hitting us broadside which accentuates the roll of the ship. Taking a shower or shaving is an exercise in acrobatics. The two days are spent reading, talking, drinking, and listening to a lecture or watching a movie. Card-playing is big, and Adam and Jed are becoming sharks at Rummy 500, playing with Molly, an MSW candidate at BU. Oh yes, Adam also beats his mother and father a couple of times in Scrabble.

Our final day at sea is clear but a bit rolling, and we pass the day reading and listening to a last couple of lectures. At the end the staff shows us a DVD of our trip and it brings back a lot of happy memories. We’re getting sentimental already. We approach Cape Horn at 1:30pm, the southernmost point not only in South American but in the world excluding Antarctica. By 5pm we’re holding off the Beagle Channel where we’ll stay until 5am Monday, January 7th when we’ll be piloted into Ushuaia. Our first of three flights home leaves Ushuaia at 2pm and if all goes well we’ll be back in NY on Tuesday, the 8th at mid-morning. The Captain’s cocktail party and dinner is a jovial affair. We all gathered out on the deck for a group picture and the weather was marvelous. The grand finale was the waitresses marching in with Baked “ Antarctica” deserts ablaze with sparklers. We joined some friends in the bar for a night cap that went through two bottles of wine and now off to bed. As our Kiwi friend said: “it’s all over on the Orlova.”

This was a splendid trip. I would describe it as very much a “national parks” kind of trip rather than an African safari sort. The majesty and the solitude of the scenery eclipse just about everything. We certainly loved the penguins and the occasional seal, but it is the raw natural beauty of the oceans and the mountains and the ice that mesmerize.

South Africa/Botswana 2007 Part 3

2007-10-17T12:43:00.000-04:00

Cape Town
From the flat plains and olive greens, straws, and browns of the bush country, we sweep over rings of rocky mountains into the lush greens of Cape Town in bloom with lavender, purples, and yellows and an ocean of white sails and blue, turquoise waters. It is beautiful and clean and fresh. What’s more, there are paved roads and real automobiles, not just Land Rovers, and there are intersections and red lights and internet!

We are staying at the Cape Grace Hotel on the waterfront, and it is very comfortable and solicitous of our every need. Perhaps they realize that when you come out of the bush, you really appreciate pampering. In the morning we meet Evy and Paul Frankel, friends from home whom we knew were traveling in South Africa but didn’t realize were staying at the same hotel for the same time. There’s also a funny story about how we learned this, but this journal is getting long enough, so ask Betsey.

We head out with Lionel, our guide, for a full day private tour of the Cape Town area. We drive along the coast southward and pass through some beautiful ocean-side communities including Constantia where the vineyards there are the oldest in the country, going back to the 1400’s. It is said that Napoleon requested wine from here when he was in exile. At a place called Boulders we walk down to the beach and enjoy hundreds of African Penguins molting away on the rocks. They are smaller than the Emperor penguins we will see on our December trip to Antarctica (stay tuned for that journal) but a nice preview. After lunch we make our way to the Cape of Good Hope.

The Cape is surrounded by the Table Mountain National Park which is a series of peaks and valleys covered with flowering bushes and greenery. The national flower is the Protea which you’ve all seen as an exotic orange global-shaped bloom in flower arrangements (it was prominent in our dining room wallpaper at West Hill Rd). Anyway, the Protea grow here in big bushes and in several colors and are striking.

The Cape of Good Hope is actually the most southwesterly point in Africa, not the most southern point which is about 75 miles away. It’s also not exactly where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet which is also miles away. So the Cape of Good Hope is famous although now I don’t know why! But it is beautiful, and the ride around it and back up to the city proper reminds us all of the Pacific Coast Highway between LA and San Francisco. All along the way we spot whales offshore and admire the beaches and colors of the water, and the modern and striking homes that hang on the cliffs which are inevitably surrounded by high walls, locked gates, and alarm signs. Crime is obviously an issue here.

We stopped by Kirstenbosch, the national botanical garden, which is a world heritage sight. The property was once owned by Cecil Rhodes and was left to the country in 1902 when Rhodes died. It became a botanical garden in 1913, and it is breathtakingly beautiful. It sits on the slopes of a mountain and has all manner of flora and fauna. We enjoyed our time there and bumped into the Frankels again.

We had dinner that night on the waterfront with Munro and Linda Bloch, friends of Carol & Burt Hoffman. They were very cordial to us, but pretty negative about the future of South Africa which they believe is sinking into mediocrity and will eventually become a dictatorship. They mourn all the youth who are leaving (one of their two sons is studying medicine in the US whereas South Africa once produced some of the best doctors in the world) but they say they will never leave. They were both born in South Africa and it is home.

Lionel, our guide, had a more optimistic assessment of the country. He feels it now has racial and political equality but not economic equality and blames the black African government for not doing enough investing in raising the educational and living standards of the poor, black and white. He said that Cape Town (4 million metro area population) has fared pretty well and is the most liberal area of the country. 50% of its population is what they call “Cape Colored” or mixed black and European; 25% is black African and 25% European stock, so the mix he feels has made integration easier. The fact that Cape Town also has the third largest gay population in the world, speaks to the tolerance here.

My take is the country is only 13 years old as a democracy and needs time to digest the changes and mature. The natural resources are considerable, and if the government gets some balance and is able to persuade whites to remain while the African population becomes better educated, there is hope. I am an optimist. And since Cape Town land values have increased several fold in the last 7 years, I’d say many others are also optimistic. Indeed, the Waterfront mall development was recently sold to Dubai interests for $1billion.

Next morning we head for Table Mountain which looms like a big rectangular dining room table over the city center. The funicular to the top is quite unique in that it not only goes up, but it also rotates in a full circle so everyone gets to see the view. That view is pretty spectacular, but what’s even more interesting is watching the clouds come up and hang on top of the mountain (we saw this once we had come down) and then slowly descend. Around here they call it the “tablecloth” effect because it looks like a giant tablecloth covering the table.

Next, we visited what I would characterize as Cape Town’s Jewish Theme Park. It is a very well done complex of the first synagogue to be built in Cape Town in the early 1800’s which is now used as the entrance to a new museum of South African Jewry. Next to the original synagogue is the current main synagogue of Cape Town, and there is also a poignant Holocaust museum, gift shop and kosher restaurant. Most Cape Town Jews are descendents of Lithuanian Jews who emigrated in the late 18th century. There are now about 18,000 Jews in Cape Town, down from a peak of 25,000. Johannesburg is considered the major center of Judaism in the country, and they have about 30,000 Jews there.

We have lunch outdoors overlooking a beach and rows of palm trees and discuss language with Lionel. Here they describe a body shop as a “panel beater”, a traffic light is a “robot” and you go to the bioscope, not the movies. Our plan for the afternoon is to explore the city center, but we are very disappointed. The business district buildings are nondescript high rises with a few interesting colonial style artifacts left over. Long Street, considered a main shopping street, has one very nice African craft shop (Tribal Trends) and mostly cheap souvenir traps. We return to the hotel and briefly walk the waterfront mall which has obviously sucked out whatever nice shops existed downtown.

Our last dinner in Cape Town is our best---at Jardine’s, and of course we bump into the Frankels there.

Wine lands
We leave Cape Town the next morning (but not before bumping into the Karas’ from Stamford) and head for the wine lands. The heart of the industry is only about an hour outside of Cape Town, along the banks of the mountains and in the valleys. It’s quite beautiful and rivals Napa and Sonoma. Starting at 10am , we begin wine tasting and sample three wineries or wine estates as they call them here. One, Graham Beck is sleek and modern –all native stone, chrome, and glass with the tasting room overlooking the wine making. The architecture was better than the wine, however, and we moved on. Takara, our second stop, was similarly contemporary with somewhat better wine and somewhat lesser architecture. Rustenberg, our last wine estate, was extraordinary in its gardens (the wine was good too). Down from the authentic Cape Dutch style buildings were large quadrants of beautifully laid out English gardens. We were the only ones strolling there, and it was a nice moment.

Many of the wine estates provide housing on the land for the workers. These small but neat cottages or row houses apparently are a big improvement from bygone days, although they do seem a bit like the captive company towns our industries used to have.

We visited two towns in the wine lands. Franschhoeck was a small boutique-laden village with smart shops and restaurants. Stellenbosch is a larger town with a prominent university. It was funny seeing many college kids out on cheap dates at the wineries (they don’t charge for tasting). After lunch, Lionel drove us to our next layover---Birkenhead House, in Hermanus on the southern coast.

The Garden Route
Birkenhead is an exquisite 11 room hotel that almost hangs over the Atlantic or Indian Ocean depending on the currents, because we are close to the most southern tip of Africa where the oceans meet. Each room is decorated eclectically and individually and there are rose petals everywhere—in designs on the bed, on the floor, and even in the toilet. The public rooms feature contemporary African artists and a mix of antiques and seas-side white cotton furniture. It works. We had a walk along the coast and a very delicious dinner and retired early.

There isn’t a lot to do at this resort besides enjoying the ambience, taking hikes, and getting a massage, but we cope very well. We take a long hike in the morning and enjoy watching the scores of whales frolicking right off the coast. They swim in pods and seem to be playing with each other and us, sticking a fin up straight out of the water to pose for our cameras it would seem. These are mostly Southern Right whales and can weigh 40,000 pounds. All along our walk we are surrounded by wild flowers and greenery, including calla lilies growing wild. While the morning started sunny, the clouds soon appeared on the horizon and rain (our first since the early days of the trip) falls as we head to our next and last destination—Grootbos.

Grootbos (means big forest) is a private nature reserve about 15 minutes farther down the coast. It consists of about 2700 acres of rolling hills and forests with two sets of lodges and cottages. Our side has 16 cottages of basic modernity as is the main lodge and dining area. The lodge is less than two years old because the biggest fire in recent memory tore through here and destroyed the old lodge. The fires are important because these particular forests need the fire to regenerate every so many years.

The cottages are up on a hill overlooking fields of wild flowers, sand dunes and the ocean. Very nice. They have a school on the property which each year takes 12 under privileged young adults and trains them in life skills, horticulture, and vocational skills. Ally is one such graduate we meet, and he is now employed by the hotel and takes us on a nature walk through the Milkwood forest.

Dinner was good and then we watched a bit of the Rugby World Cup semi final game between the South African Springboks and Argentina. Rugby is big sport here and the team made the headlines of the newspapers when they made the semis. Even a sport expert like me had trouble deciphering this game. They win, incidentally, and are in the finals against England.

Our last full day in Africa is jam packed. Ally takes us on a hike on the beach in the morning, and we climb over jagged rocks to reach caves that were inhabited by middle Stone Age people 80,000 years ago. Stanford and SUNY had led archeological digs here.
Then we ask to see the local township. The townships were a creature of Apartheid when the blacks were forced to live there. Today blacks can live anywhere but most still inhabit these slum communities which are subsidized by the government. Rent is free, but you’d have to be Shylock to charge for the tin shacks barely standing here with no electricity and communal out houses. There are also have small concrete huts but the waiting list to occupy them takes years to traverse.

Ally pointed to one of the tin shacks and announces that’s where he lives. We are frankly appalled. He lives there with his 18 year old wife (he is 20) and tells us his four-year old twin girls live with their grandmother in his home city eight hours away. He had to promise his in laws ten cows in order to get their consent to marry. Ally is very smart and educated, yet his aspiration is to live in one of the concrete huts which he is promised by 2009. Then he will bring his daughters to live with them. What a life!

Our last activity is a wildflower safari in an open Land Rover up into the hills of the reserve. The flowers are lovely, the sun is shining, but there is a very strong and chilly wind, and the botanical lesson can’t end fast enough for us to get some hot drinks into us. At dinner that night we do a last round of “Bests & Worsts” and come to the conclusion that this trip was very well conceived and well executed. Kudos to Joyce Ackerman.

Before we head to the airport the next morning we stop by to visit the school set up by Grootbos. It’s an excellent concept as I mentioned, and the Reserve gets a good flow of future employees and the students learn very useful life and occupational skills. It’s an impressive concept worth repeating elsewhere. Lionel picks us up and we take the scenic coastal route to the airport. Our final impression, however, is the township slum that abuts the airport. It is huge, and although this one has electricity, it is a very sobering sight. South Africa has a lot of catching up do to.

If there is one overall impression we have of South Africa and Botswana it is of the friendliness and openness of the people we have encountered, black and white. These are warm, hospitable people, who love their countries, its wildlife and the land. We very much enjoyed their company. This was a great adventure and a great trip.

South Africa/Botswana 2007 Part 2

2007-10-11T12:34:00.000-04:00

Linyanti Reserve
It’s a long way to Tipperary…..and Botswana. It’s Thursday, October 4, 2007, and we depart by private charter (single engine, single pilot, 4-seater) from Mala Mala back to Johannesburg where we transfer to a scheduled airline for a flight to Livingstone, Zambia where for some reason we have to pay a $50 transit fee and then board another charter which takes us to Kasane, Botswana where we clear customs and reboard our charter for the Linyanti Reserve and the King’s Pool tented camp where we’re staying! Fortunately, the weather was calm and the flights smooth. On our last leg we fly low over a river that’s packed with herds of elephants, hippos, and water buffalo.

King’s Pool is our most rustic stop so far—no hairdryers. Nine “tents” which have one solid cement wall and three sides of screens, canvas, and posts. The tent is done up well with a nice sitting area, an outdoor terrace and plunge pool. You get to your tent on a wooden walkway on stilts since animals often go under and (in the case of elephants) through periodic openings. The main reception area has a big open loggia where we meet for drinks, tea, and sitting around a campfire before dinner which is served in a dining room next door at one long table. After dark you have to be escorted to and from your tent for your protection. Relaxing-- at least for Betsey.

We arrived around 4pm and the heat was intense—over 100 degrees. We were pretty wiped out, but nevertheless, after a spot of “tea”, we were off on a game drive. Here the guide (our man is Moses) drives without a tracker, and the Land Rovers have bucket seats. The terrain here is interesting. On the landward side it looks like a vast wasteland with dead trees strewn all over the place and everything brown and dead looking. In this area they have about 125,000 elephants, and they are wrecking havoc with the trees which the elephants strip the bark off of, which ultimately kills the tree if the elephant hasn’t already knocked it down. In some places the elephants bring the trees down to the same level, just enough to have them rebloom in the spring and also low enough for the young elephants to get the food. They are trying to figure out what to do about having so many elephants around. It’s a real problem. On the river side it is greener, with flat plains of river grasses and sand bars.

Obviously the big thing to see here is elephants, and on the first day we are not disappointed. We see plenty of herds and solitary bulls along the river, crossing the river and washing themselves in it. We also spy hippos in the distance and herds of water buffalo. We stop for a drink in a tree house and watch another splendid sunset. Have I said the light in southern Africa is unique? It really is very special and hard to describe.

We dine family style and then turn in. There’s no air conditioning but the generators run the fan over the bed, and there is a bit of a breeze from the screens. Since I’ve caught a cold, I have an excuse to take Nyquil which will also serve as a good sleeping pill.

Our wake up call is a knock on the door at 5:30am, and at this place they serve what we would consider a full breakfast. We were out in the Rovers by 6:30 and the early hour was nearly devoid of any meaningful animals (with apologies to the many impala we spot). Then things got interesting when another driver reported spotting two leopards. We dashed over and followed a mother and her teenage daughter walking through the savannah plains. It was beautiful to watch them slinking along, losing sight of them briefly as they disappeared in the golden grasses that matched their coats. During one such disappearance mother leopard grabbed a young baboon and when next we spotted her, she was in a tree clawing the head off the baboon and enjoying the treat. The daughter soon appeared and lay down near the bottom of the tree, waiting for mom to eat enough so she could have a turn.

A bit later we came upon a pride of lions—three females and a male—sleeping under a tree. Nothing seemed to rouse them so we moved on and shortly thereafter Moses spotted a young and magnificent male lion under a tree, majestically surveying his territory. It was a postcard shot to be sure. Moving on, we watched a herd of older male water buffalos. They leave the herd when they age because it’s hard for them to keep up, and they band together for a slower paced life. Sort of like assisted living.

We returned to the camp for brunch, surprisingly hungry after the full breakfast and take our siesta. It was so hot, however (probably 100+), that it was hard to nap, and I ultimately resorted to a dunk in the plunge pool and an outdoor shower. But our afternoon drive was blessed by cloud cover and it was comfortably cool. Unfortunately, the animals apparently were not so pleased with the weather because they mostly didn’t appear. Highlights of this, perhaps our least interesting drive of the trip, were hippos, out enough for us to see their full heads and yawns and a dead giraffe being devoured by vultures. Apparently the giraffe had died of natural causes, perhaps caused by lack of food due to the drought going on here, and the vultures descended before the cats or hyenas could find him. It was a sorry sight and a sorrier smell.

I was wrong. The next morning’s drive was worse, even more devoid of interesting animals. When we woke up it started raining heavily which, according to Moses, has sent the animals deeper into the woods because water is more plentiful in more places now. We do note that the area is greening up as we are here, although we go through one new area where the dead trees and large limbs on the ground look like everything is writhing in pain. On this outing we see exactly one elephant (where have the other 124,999 gone?), some water buffalo, wart hogs, submerged hippos, lots of impalas, one lizard, and most exciting—two fighting starling birds. We do spot the leopard near another kill of hers, an antelope, but a hyena has stolen it from her and is enjoying the free meal. Leopards won’t go after hyenas because the hyena is stronger and has stronger jaws. The leopard’s only advantage is it is faster and can climb up a tree. Oh, the most plentiful things we see (and feel) are the flies; they are out in force because of the rain.

After brunch we’re enjoying our rest period while hippos snort and cavort in the stretch of river which our tent overlooks. Indeed, we see more hippo activity, including a brief fight between two hippos, off the loggia than we saw driving all over the place.

I now know why the animals here sleep so much. The heat beats you down and forces you under. Betsey and I pass out until the afternoon drive. And it’s not even summer. Fortunately, the afternoon drive is more interesting. We see a lot of giraffe, including the fascinating sight of a giraffe bending down, ever so carefully, to drink from the pond. That is when giraffes are most vulnerable. We also see a springbok, the official symbol of South Africa, which we didn’t see in South Africa. Finally, we enjoy the most dazzling sunset while overlooking a bunch of bored hippos and a troop of baboons who are heading for their home tree and make cacophonous clatter as they argue over who gets the safest branches.

We enjoy our final dinner at King’s Pool where the menu has been varied and creative. One issue we have with the place is that it is far more regimented than the other places we’ve stayed at since they have specific hours for each meal and are pretty insistent that you adhere to their schedule. We were spoiled at Metaya where we could eat whenever we wanted and while Rattray’s had meal hours, they seemed more flexible than we’ve experienced here. Be that as it may, we’re off for one more drive in the morning and then on to our last camp-Vumbura Plains.

A small world story. At King’s Pool we shared our Land Rover with a couple from White Plains, Phyllis and Peter Honig. Very nice people and we enjoyed each others company. It turns out that Peter’s locker at Ridgeway Country Club was next to Esta’s father, and he knew him very well.

Next morning, Betsey was feeling a sore throat and elected to skip the morning drive. She didn’t miss a lot. I find it inconceivable that with 125,000 elephants supposedly in this area, we fail to spot even one this morning. The grounds are littered with elephant dung, but I suspect the camp imports it to convince guests there really are a lot of elephants around. According to our guide, the recent rain and spent foliage has sent the elephants deep into the woodlands, and the land is too impassable to put dirt roads there for viewing.

The morning isn’t a total loss. We see side-striped jackals for the first time and a hyena with a cub. There are a couple of other cubs there too, but apparently they are from another hyena and this one refuses to let the (what we suppose to be) orphans nurse. Our guide says the orphans will eventually be picked up by prey.

We return early, and Betsey is feeling a bit better having had the luxury of sleeping in until 9am. This afternoon we’re off to our last camp, Vumbura Plains, a 30 minute charter flight away. At the King’s Pool air strip we’re met by a residents’ farewell party, including giraffes, a hippo out of the water, and baboons jumping across a stream, plus the omnipresent impalas. We take off in a cloud of dust.

Okavango Delta
In two hours at Verumba Plains in the Okavango Delta we see more than we saw in three days at King’s Pool. Copper is our guide, a wizened pro who tells us we are experiencing “Out of Africa” and we are. We elect to go on our first afternoon drive right from the airstrip since the camp is 45 minutes away, and within five minutes we come upon a pride of 8 lions asleep. The land here is much different than we’ve experienced with large flat plains of gold- turning- green grasses, watery fingers of the Wanachile River, ponds and puddles, and much nicer, larger trees. In short order we see a tableaux out of a tabletop photo book. A huge heard of several hundred cape buffalo are making their way across the plain. In the background are two herds of elephants, several giraffes, wildebeests, zebra, and tsessebes (a species of antelope we haven’t previously seen). This scene alone makes our trip more than worthwhile. It’s stupendous in the special light of late afternoon.

As we head towards camp, we see more and more elephants, a journey of giraffes ( a journey is the name of a group of giraffes; with zebras it’s a dazzle, with wart hogs it’s a sounder; owls are a parliament and so on.---good cross word puzzle answers). At the bridge into camp we have an escort of kudus and impalas. The camp itself is sleek and unobtrusive. It’s two years old and has been done in what might best be described as African Scandinavian modern. Long horizontal lines of white pine and canvas with an outdoor bar and dining area. Our suite is like a loft with a bathroom incorporated into the room with a large shower out in the open, and the usual plunge pool and sundeck. We find it much more appealing than King’s Pool which has undoubtedly become our least popular camp. The coup de grace occurs while we’re being escorted on the stilt walkway to dinner---two hippos sauntering along near the walkway right under our noses.

Copper is a comedian. As we head out the next morning on our drive, Copper looks through his binoculars out at the prairie and explains he’s “CAT scanning.” (Arnie-- a new application). Actually, Copper does well. We find the old, master-of-the- prairie male lion who’s fast asleep with his prey, a large porcupine, resting by his mouth. Then we see a pride of 8 lions beginning to stalk prey. We watch them for over an hour as they creep along, take their measure of the available prey and move along. They come to a small mound and line up like several Mount Rushmores. It’s an awesome assembly of killing power. Out on the range are buffalo, zebra, and tsessebes, but the lions wait for them to come closer. Copper says they won’t waste their energy unless they feel they have a good shot at catching them, and they demur, waiting for a better opportunity. The prey in the meantime catch scent or sight of the lions and immediately make motions that tell the lions the prey know they are there. This is meant to tell the lions the prey won’t be surprised. It’s so interesting watching the work of nature in real time.

We move on as Copper sees some birds making a fuss and believes they are warning about something. We discover a leopard under a bush. Copper can also read all the paw prints and tell us when they were made. Pretty remarkable. We come up on a journey of giraffe and notice one female has the remnants of placenta dragging along. Copper speculates that the giraffe gave birth that morning but the newborn was taken by the leopard. On the way back to camp we see the old lion again, this time awake and thoroughly enjoying the porcupine and carefully avoiding the quills (you take the head off and go in from there.). We also spot a black sable antelope, a rare sight and one of the “magnificent 8” (you take the big 5 and add wild dogs, cheetah, and black sable). If we see Cheetah we’ve seen them all on this trip).

Throughout our safari journeys we’ve spotted countless varieties of birds too numerous to mention in vivid colors and hues (big sigh of relief from my readers.).

This land is beautiful and unspoiled. We learn that the area was left untouched because it was infested with tse tse flies which attack cattle (and people) and which made cultivating the land for cattle raising undesirable. The government then realized they had all this pristine land and eradicated the tse tse flies and set the land aside as reserves for tourism. Nearly 35-40% of the country has been so earmarked, and after diamond mining, tourism is Botswana’s biggest industry. This country of 1.8 million people has also been blessed by very good, mostly honest governments since it gained its independence from Britain in the 60’s. A rarity on this continent.

I take a dunk in the pool and an outdoor shower, and as we’re ready to head out for the afternoon, an elephant wanders by, not ten feet from our room. This afternoon, after we stop to watch a leopard lounging in a tree, we head for a special adventure.
We are taking an excursion on the Wanachile River in a flat-bottomed aluminum boat. We head out through narrow channels of floating islands of reeds and papyrus, spot a hippo and studiously avoid it. The scenery is special in the afternoon light, and as we head out into the wider river, I feel like Mr. Ulnay in African Queen. We stop to watch the sundown sipping gin & tonics, and life is beautiful. The sunset is the best yet.

Dinner tonight is in the BOMA along with African singing and dancing. One song is sung when a girl first menstruates and gives all kinds of instructions about being a good woman. The food is traditional and “interesting.”

The morning is very windy and chilly, and we use ponchos to keep warmer. We drive through a couple of streams with Copper opening the doors of his compartment to let the water run out, and head back to the river. Here each couple boards a modern fiberglass version of a Mokoro, a dug out canoe, and we have a pole man who guides us slowly through the reeds, pushing his pole into the water to move us along. It’s a novel treat that we all enjoy very much as we learn about the different reeds and their uses, watch the day lilies open up, study colorful mini frogs, and have tea on a little island that is usually the rest stop for elephants and hippos.

Afterwards, although we’re freezing, we’re still eager for a game drive so Copper takes us to see two prides of lions. The first pride of eight is perched on a rise surveying the scene and wrestling with each other. We enjoy watching them and then one by one they start passing within less than ten feet of our Land Rover as they move on. Perhaps we’ll watch them hunt tonight. The other pride is out like a light, but in between we find a large herd of cape buffalo at rest. It’s a remarkable scene—an almost perfect circle of buffalo with most lying down except for several sentries at various points on the circle and a few in the center. It’s instinctive self defense at its best. We head back to camp for brunch but not before spying three sitting giraffes. It’s a funny sight.

Words cannot describe….our final afternoon game drive. It is the climactic finale to our safari experience. While we were in siesta, the morning’s sleeping lions awoke and killed a buffalo cub. So much for security. We rode out to watch them finishing their dinner and then decided to check out the other pride that we had seen that morning. When we arrived the pride was in stalking mode and we spent the next several hours watching them in action. They work as a team, identifying potential prey and then patiently stalking it. They use body language to communicate with each other. The lead lion heads out first and then slowly the others follow in a line. We notice a herd of buffalo heading right towards them, unaware that danger looms. We watch the lions slowly advance, one at a time, stalking then sitting and waiting; stalking then sitting and waiting. Finally, as the sun is starting to set it appears the kill is imminent. The buffalo herd is nearly on top of the lions and unaware. We move to the opposite side of the herd to watch. We’re so close we can smell the buffalo. The lead lion makes his move and chases after the herd. The herd stampedes away, then stops and turns. Incredibly, from chaos they form a perfect V formation with a senior bull in the lead, and they charge back, chasing the lion who seems to be taunting them and leading them towards the rest of the pride. It gets dark and the dust from the stampede is so dense we can hardly see. The herd seems confused, exactly what the lions want. Copper thinks the lions may wait until sunrise to strike again, but then as we move out, another guide spots the lions near a breakaway section of the herd and we chase. The next moment we hear the bleating wails of a buffalo and know there’s been a kill. We search and discover a young calf dead in the bush. Nearby the victorious lions wait until the rest of the herd disperses, and then they return to enjoy their feast. It is a breathtaking event that few are ever privileged to see. To observe the way the animals plan and execute their strategies is very humbling.

At dinner that night I sit next to a woman who worked at D’Arcy Los Angeles in the mid 80’s.