Mediterranean to the Alpes

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We finished off our first six (of 19?) weeks in Tel Aviv with some windsurfing and, as the weather cooled, more city exploration. We found some tasty restaurants serving Moroccan, South African, Yemeni, and local cuisine. W continues his teething exercises with nothing yet to show for it.

Needing to exit and re-enter for a work visa, we escaped the hot and humid Mediterranean to visit friends in sunny Lausanne, Switzerland. We ascended to their family's chalet which is located one valley over from Zermatt and looks up to Dent Blanche. Activities included eating cheese, sausages, and bread, burning it off with an alpine hike, then repeating. The valleys were quiet and the trails were nearly empty. T even carried W up to the 9,450' Pas de Chèvre (Goat Pass) by herself. The Matterhorn was clearly visible little more than ten miles away, thanks to a perfectly clear blue sky.

Back in Lausanne, we toured the public market, parts of the old town, and ascended the bell tower of the 13th century cathedral which looks across Lake Léman to the western Alps. Our visit has been idyllic and relaxing, no doubt aided by good food and a warm household. We'll be sad to leave this Saturday, but look forward to completing Phase II of the assignment and returning home to the PacNW.

Arrived and Almost Settled

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As with the first trip out in June, the trip was relatively uneventful. We all woke up on a too-early Sunday morning to catch the first flight to JFK. I recall this 24-hour journey being almost painfully boring; tasked with entertaining an infant, the flights seemed more reasonable in length. When his hair gets this wild and he scowls, it always reminds me of my impression of Beethoven. Sorry that all the pictures are infant-related; we'll soon have a more diverse portfolio. We don't intend to make this a Baby Blog, though I'm sure some grandparents wouldn't object.

We took "w" for a dunk in the Mediterranean yesterday; the water was warmer than in June so he didn't cry on-contact, but it was funny how some of the larger waves in the marina startled him just enough to initiate the Moro Reflex with arms flailing and all. He took it all in stride and seems much more mature and emotionally stable than a month or two ago.

Alhough we arrived last Monday, we have not yet settled in to our long-term (4 month) accommodations. There was some trouble with our first-pick hotel regarding cleaning products used in the which induced headaches and rashes in the more chemically-sensitive members of the TTw trio. This initiated a dispute regarding thousands of dollars in claimed losses (due shortening the reservation) countered by a proposal to claim intangible physical and emotional damages due to said chemicals. In the end, we moved to a new hotel without paying exorbitant fees and are currently waiting for the larger room to become available for us next week.

Additional highlights of the past week include credit cards and ID lost in Seattle right before departure, our ATM card being "retained" by a presumptuous Israeli ATM machine, and a mildly poisonous spider bite on a big toe (now slightly bigger). We're a tough travelling crew, but if this keeps up for the rest of our stay we may have to walk away from the poker table.

A poker analogy is most appropriate to this social environment. The dispute with the prior hotel and the daily interactions of work and in-city require a thick skin, a disaffected demeanor, and, ideally, an aggressive launch with some willingness to barter; compare this to the relatively passive, offend-no-one mentality of the renowned PacNW'er. It's inevitable that everyday interactions may at first feel borderline hostile. After this revelation, you learn to put on a straight face, stand your ground, and even charge a few times--for the sake of your wallet, place in line, or just personal dignity. Whatever your personality on-arrival, don't come without a little Chutzpah.

"Tables Are Turned" in Tanzania

While writing postcards mid-way through our ten-day safari in northern Tanzania, I commented that it's difficult to imagine these animals as actually wild and living in their environment. Roaming across the Savanna in our Toyota Land Cruiser (TM) felt more similar to a drive through the San Diego Zoo. In reality, though, the tables had been turned. We were the caged animals roving across the countryside and gawking at the wildlife while they stared back, free. It was plain to see we were the awkward guests. We were well out of place and unfamiliar with the dangers associated with walking into the tall grasses surrounding our camp sites or climbing a nearby boulder. These included (with no exaggeration): black mambas and spitting cobras, scorpions, maniacal baboons, leopards on high and lions down low, and grazing Cape buffalo (a criminally insane herbivore and the most feared animal in Africa). With this in mind, we were confined to the public campsite or the vehicle at all times. It was recommended that we stay in our tents during the night--as if a soft-shelled tent was reassuring protection from hungry predators and their teeth, fangs, claws, and horns. This arrangement was agreeable to all--neither T nor I wanted to learn how effective our emergency medical evacuation insurance was in Tanzania.

Daily, we woke up just before dawn; we warily inspected the immediate surroundings of the tent with the indispensable flashlight before exposing our tender, fleshy parts. We headed out for morning and evening game drives with Ayubu as our knowledgeable guide, capable driver, and eagle-eyed spotter. The drives consisted of standing on our seats for several hours with our top-halves poking through the roof of the bouncing car--we looked like meerkats on a road-trip. Our task was to peer across endless dry plains looking for hints of movement or conspicuous variations in shading or color. At times we were lucky and the wildlife was confident enough to walk near us, passing so close we could count their whiskers and eyelashes. Of the 6,000+ pictures taken, we've included just a few of these close encounters in the photo album.

Nightly, we returned to delicious meals cooked by our amazing and resourceful field chef, Remy. We reviewed our pictures and reminisced about the day's lucky sightings. Exhausted, bruised, and rather dirty, we would retire early to our tents, eager to do it all again the next day. By our third night camping, it actually seemed pretty safe within the mowed confines of our campsite; the animals were outside, beyond the tall grass and hopefully in distant parts of the park. We felt comfortable enough to pitch our tent at the edge of the camp.

While returning to our tent in the dark after dinner, our invisible barrier from the wild was shattered by the sound of...elephants. It was not the sound of munching on thorny acacias or blowing dirt on themselves, their two favorite activities, but rather the sound of elephants trumpeting at the top of their trunks(?) while stampeding around the periphery of our campsite. We could not see anything, but we could tell there were a lot of them, they were within fifty feet, they were moving fast, and they were upset. Cautious but intrigued, we stood near our tent at the edge of the tall grass, peering into the darkness. Then we heard the sound of a lion's roar to our right, close enough to feel its vibration. We felt a little more exposed and a little less intrigued. T suggested we duck in to the tent and I quickly followed, though in the back of my mind, I wondered if being trapped in the path of a rampaging elephant was really that much safer. The blaring and roaring continued for several minutes from, what seemed like, all around us. We kept watch through all four mosquito screens to no avail.

Sadly, the beginning of this story is more exciting than the end; the noises subsided after a few minutes and nothing had entered the campsite. The clouds blew away from the full moon and we could hear and see the elephants feeding nonchalantly in the tall grasses. We brushed our teeth warily in the nearby bathrooms and wondered if the lions were still watching us from the outside. As we tried to sleep, their infrequent growling reminded us they were still near. Maybe the San Diego Zoo would have been a better idea.

A Respite in Jaipur

Delhi-Amritsar-Pathankot-Delhi-Varanasi-Khajuraho-Orchha-Jhansi-Gwalior-Agra-Jaipur. After more than two weeks of hopping around the Northern India, we rolled into the Jaipur train station at 2:00 AM more than a little burned out. We were immensely relieved to spot the sign for Sneh-Deep Guest House through the open side-door of our auto rickshaw. Of course, we were victims of our own itinerary. Even after a thorough rest that night and a satisfying breakfast, T and I were hesitant to confront the common big-city theme: noise, dust, careening vehicles, crowded bodies, plus the incessant touts and scammers who swarm us if we dare stop walking. Between T's fair skin and my blond hair, we could not draw more attention to ourselves even if we waved an American flag over our heads. What we needed for our first day in Jaipur was a vacation from our vacation. We were either fortunate or blessed.

Sneh-Deep Guest House can be found in the east of Jaipur in the small neighborhood known as the Sethi Colony. It is not a hotel nor is it a hostel; it is simply a house for guests of the owners: the Kulshreshtha family. This aspect of our stay was repeatedly made obvious to us over the following days. Home-cooked, healthy meals were available for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Relaxing in the afternoons, we spent hours socializing with our hosts. We traded recipes (and anagrams), told stories and played games. Of course, we also visited some of the famous sites of Jaipur--in our own, good time.

But what did we do on that first day? Manoj, our host, had several errands to run in the countryside far east of the city and he invited us to join him. Manoj's primary focus is the conservation of and education about India's natural environment. He manages an eco-lodge in the Himalayan foothils of Rishikesh called Wild Brook Retreat and is building another lodge near Jaipur. After a stop to negotiate sandstone carvings for the new lodge, Manoj took us to a number of off-the-beaten-path sites including his lodge under construction. The surroundings were quiet and the locals were welcoming. The chili pakoras for a lunch-snack were good-and-spicy and the bananas were perfectly ripe. Eating our dinner at sunset on the rocks, we could hear peacocks, babblers, and frogs. This felt like a terrific place to spend a week walking through the hills anytime from sunrise to sunset. It is fairly wild, though, so care should be taken. While walking back to the car, we were nearly trampled by an equally-startled Blue Bull (Nilgai, a large antelope).

After four nights and four days in their home, T and I felt much more rested and prepared to take on Delhi. In that short stay though, their family became our own and it felt good to be in such a welcoming home, knowing that our own was on the other side of the world. But the relentless itinerary (with tickets and reservations) pushed us onward. With tears in our eyes, we rode our rickshaw into the hot, dark night back to the train station. We hope that the future will allow us to return to Jaipur, the Sneh-Deep Guest House, and the welcoming graces of the Kulshreshtha family. Thank you for everything.

Awed in Agra (upstream of the Taj Mahal)

Another contribution fromT on her impressions of this sandstone castle.

There is something magical about being in the Red Fort at Agra during the monsoon rains. The red sandstone darkens and the white marble shines brighter. In the warm mornings of the monsoon, everything feels fresh. Clean. Precision-engineered. Yes, that's right. It wasn't just the beauty of inlaid marble and intricately-carved archways that struck me, but also the brilliant architecture that flawlessly and efficiently guided flood-quantities of rain into another decorative element. Deluge rainfall became elegant rivers cascading from rooftop waterfalls and winding down the edges of hallways. Streams converged to fill waiting ponds and pools. Far below, a moat collected the excess. Wandering among these splendid feats of design, we became soaked to the bone. And I loved every minute of it.