Horn of Africa Feb 2013

The portents were stormy, starting with the flight to  Eritrea.  The day before I was to leave San Francisco, the flight to JFK-Cairo-Asmara was canceled - storms on the East Coast.  So it was SFO-Chicago-Paris-Cairo-Asmara.  Long tiring flights. 

And throughout the trip, it seemed bits and pieces didn’t fall into place as hoped/expected.  The tour was set to include Eritrea, Djibouti, Somaliland and Ethiopia (Harare, the ancient walled Moslem city I had missed on previous trips into Ethiopia).  Yemen had been knocked out at the start, remaining only as a means to transfer from Eritrea and Djibouti.  Sharing borders does not mean you can get from A to B without diverting to C.  Excepting Somaliland, there is a history of conflict between the three neighbors.  Somaliland just deals with Somalia.

Five days in Eritrea, both in the two main cities, Asmara and Massawa, plus the countryside, Keren and Adi Keyh.   Several days in, I had developed the Mother of all Colds and spent one day sleeping in the back of the bus, missing  the rock paintings.  However, I was alert enough to appreciate time spent at a local wedding. and enjoy the barren Afar region but didn’t make the climb up to a mountain church.   Rather, I had to deal with several hooligans- they come in all nationalities.   Did manage the British War Cemetery, assorted  stele and an old underground tunnel to Ethiopia.

Eritrea has been described as the North Korea of Africa.  I did find the people friendly and activities were not curtailed..  There was no trash, there or in Djibouti  - it was pointed out that baskets were used rather than plastic bags for toting purpose. (There was trash in Harare!) Not a lot of traffic and what there was, was a mix of the old - donkey carts - and the new - autos.   I found similarities with Ethiopians though the Eritreans would dispute that, after years spent establishing their own identity.  But it is a poor country, with little industry - mainly subsistence farming.  It lost its seagoing trade to Djibouti - the docks at Massawa  are ghostly remembrances of days of yore.

The local guide wa a sweet man but not very effective when it came to herding the ten of us, plus the tour company’s director, a charming   Egyptian, who accompanied us for the first leg of the tour.  The group,  all Americans, were  widely traveled.  Ages ranged from    mid fifties into the eighties.  As with other American groups I’ve traveled with, they were compulsive picture takers - life seemed to be  a series of photo opportunities.

Interestingly, one of the big tourist  sights are the trashed tanks and other armament  from their last war.  Per our guide, they are used for spare parts in repairing current equipment.  Reminded me of  Kabul where they  have a museum of  land mines and graveyard of crashed airplanes.  

One of the experiences I most enjoyed was simply walking about Asmara and Massawa, feeling a part of the landscape.  I ran into four members of a British tour group, on a similar itinerary but  less upscale.

Then there was the flight on Yemeni Airlines  to Sanaa so we could visit Djibouti. And that was something that went really well.  Boarding passes were issued to Sanaa but not the connecting flight- I had visions of a third-world snafu at the Sanaa Airport.  I was wrong!  As we arrived, a Yemeni Air representative met us with our Djibouti boarding passes and escorted us to the waiting area.  I should also mention, that even on short,  hour long  flights, food is served, albeit only a sandwich and juice.  Which is more than I can say for the US airlines which passes out  juice, if you’re lucky,  on the cross country flight.

Djibouti City was noisy, crowded, busy in contrast to the slower pace of life in Eritrea.   The US has a base  and trains Special Forces (SEALS?) there.  Until recently, it was home to the French Foreign Legion. The Port is active, bringing in goods for Ethiopia, trying to be the Dubai of  the region -i t  has a long ways to go.

For a small bit of geography, there was enough for  three days of exploration, eg,Lake Abbe and Lake Assal plus the Rift Valley area.  Again, we were in Afar country.  But before all this, things were a-changin’

After Djibouti, we were to fly to Somaliland and see rock  paintings at Laas Geel, sure!

First, in a Chinese restaurant, we casually met  a Navy rating, a twenty year vet from Oregon,  working in Intelligence who advised - no, pleaded with - us not to go.  Four of our group heeded his comments and backed off.  Next, the flight into Somaliland was canceled - an alternate plan was suggested:  fly in on the next flight, drive around and fly out that evening to Addis.  While that made the country-counters happy, it didn’t show me much.  If I’m going to endanger myself, I want to it to be worthwhile.  So I backed off.  Finally, the director, now in the US, wisely  called Somaliland off and extra excursions were arranged for Ethiopia. 

(Several days later, in Hargeisa there was activity involving a number of the “bad” guys; two German tourist were stuck in the hotel with nine security people!)

Concurrently,  the local Djibouti tour person took off with the hotel payment.  The Ethiopian guide, a capable and delightful guy, now in charge, was stuck dealing with the Djibouti crew and their none too reliable 4x4s.  He managed and the three days in the countryside went off well.

Now to Addis and two days  Improv, which turned out very well.  So far as I could  determine, we were at Negash;  drove down to view a volcanic lake, rowing over to an Island church with its colorful paintings.  Then spent time at a memorial honoring a recently deceased warrior  - marvelous horses and horsemanship.  We were welcomed warmly by all.  Then a day at Tya World Heritage site, Maryan rock-hewn church and Melka Kunture Prehistoric site enroute back to Addis and a flight to  Dire Dawa and then, Harare.

Harare is the old walled Moslem city, once breached by a disguised Richard Burton in the 19th Century, the place I’d missed on two prior trips to Ethiopia.  A friend had been in the Peace Corps there some  years ago; I unsuccessfully tried to locate a woman. he’d known.  Harare is my kind of town: crowded, tacky, loud,  atmospheric .  We did the tourist bit:  Rimbaud House, the Handicraft Museum, the Catholic Church,  Adare Houses and the Hyena feeding.   Unfortunately, there was little time to just wander and absorb the ambiance.  At the minimum I needed another day.

Next back to Dire Dawa, stopping at the Khat market enroute.  Spent time before the flight to Addis, investigating every nook and cranny of the non operative  Addis Abba-Djibouti Railroad.  There was a small bus station in the main building and a number of hangers-on about.  I suspect they were former employees who had no place else to go.

At Addis, some crashed and some continued sight seeing.  I did a combination of wandering about, crashing and making use of the hotel computer - I had some 700 Emails, most to b deleted.  Injera at a local restaurant which featured music and dancing - why does already audible music have to be amplified? Then to another hotel for an hour’s sleep before catching the Four AM flight to Cairo.

Food:  You don’t go to Africa for the food.  Other than several of the better hotels, basic.  I did vegetarian along with some fish and chicken.  Cheese omelets, some better and some worse,  got me through breakfasts. 

Accommodations:  From sleeping out in an Afar hut with facilities down the road to  the four star Asmara Palace and everything in between.  Clean sheets, plumbing  and water, not always hot.  Rarely, more than a night per place.  My favorite was the Negash Lodge at Walisso, Ethiopia - another Afar style unit amidst trees and wildlife, this one with conveniences.

Tour:  Spiekermann Travel Service Inc:  fast paced with little time for wanderings or reflections.  Cost: $8300 inclusive  all meals and in coutry flights -  may get a refund on unused airfare to Somaliland.  I spent little other than about $200 on tips.  Used United frequent flyers miles:  $79.   Cat care: $780.    

Note:  Will be contacting the Ethiopian tour leader re:  a December  Danakil trip - he goes regularly and reports it is now quite safe. 

Christmas-New Year’s 24 Dec 2012-8 Jan 2013

Mexico’s Copper Canyon was the third choice for this year’s Holiday trip.  Rejected was Ethiopia’s Afar Region  and the Balkans (too dangerous or too cold!), so I was left scrambling.   In a stack of  possible excursions was a clip from the National Geographic about Mexico's Copper Canyon. 

CalNative had a a ten day independent tour to the bottom of the canyon, including  train ride and accommodations. We paid extra for two  trips into the canyon - one with Don Diego. the colorful American operating a lodge near Cerocahui and  another via cable car from the canyon’s rim at Posada Barrancas.  A  slippery drive on a wet, partially completed road  for a two day stay at Batopilas, a colorful, remote mining town, was included in the tour.

It turned out to be an excellent choice:  a combination of walking and sightseeing in some of the most beautiful country in the world.

There were four of us, two Brits and two Americans, who had traveled together in various combinations over some five years. All ladies of a certain age.   Last year it was Rajasthan and the year before, Oman.  Three of us  did a four day pretour stay in Mexico City - one had been there before and the other was conversant in  Spanish..

Mexico City is a big sprawling City with wall to wall people.  And security throughout the center of the city:  locals and federales. Many with  AKs and protective gear.  Some with black ski masks.  Male and female.  Two small attractive women in uniform were the subject of many photographers.  Mexico was determined the Holidays go peacefully, particularly when there were demonstrations protesting  fourteen imprisoned individuals.  I observed no conflict.

We took trains and buses to the Xochimilco Floating Gardens, sadly neglected,  and the Teotihuacan Pyramids, a day’s excursion.  Visitors were in a festive mood and included a dozen or more  Sisters of Mother Teresa viewing the site.  Otherwise, mostly local families. I did crawl up the first Pyramid but simply viewed the other two.  We had packed some lunch, so ate near the Museum, a nicely designed building with interesting artifacts.

The last day we went about the Templo Major and museum, just back of the Metropolitan Cathedral.  Walking around, one realized  how late in the day the North Americans appeared on the scene and how low we were on the cultural  totem pole compared to the Mexican-Indian culture. 

We met our fourth member at the airport where we all flew to Los Mochis, the jumping off point for the tour.  There it was a night ride to El Fuerte with only a checkpoint stop.  We had arranged for an extra day in El Fuerte before boarding El Chepe, the Copper Canyon Railroad, famed for its twists and turns and tunnels as it winds up into the Sierra Madres.   Our adventure began but without Walter Houston and Humphrey Bogart. 

We were met at the first stop by  Doug (Don Diego) Rhodes who could certainly qualify as a Readers Digest, Most Unforgettable Character.  Ex-Army, ex-NASA, ex-cop, ex-tour guide, he settled in the area twenty-two years ago and now runs a lodge, Paraiso del Oso,  for visitors such as us.  Affable and knowledgeable, he provides social services for many of the local Tarahumara families in the area.  As I found out, he is known from one end of the Canyon to the other.  We stayed two nights, spending a day down the road to Urique. 

On to Posada Barrancas, on the edge of the canyon, every room with a spectacular view.    One of us hiked, two of us did the cable car and adjacent walks and the fourth stayed abed - cold and cough and temperature laid her low.  So from there to Creel where there was a clinic -turned out the ailing one had a cold, a negative reaction to the wood fire smoke - sole source of heat at Paraiso - and a bit of high altitude sickness.  Medication helped but even more so, the descent to Batopilas.

There, as at other stops, the local Indians were selling their handicrafts.  Colorful and peaceful, there was no pressure to buy.  Their work was excellent and we bought bits and pieces.  The hope is they will not be contaminated by  tourists.

Batopilas was the charmer.  A  small, mining town located on what may have been a stream, but now with the rains, was  a full sized river; it was a high point of the trip.  We walked to the Lost Cathedral and to the ruin of Alexander Shepherd’s Hacienda, Shepherd, a runaway from Washington, DC, bought the mine in the eighteen-eighties  and built bridges, viaducts and a hydroelectric plant.  From a look at his crumbling hacienda, he lived high on the hog. All in all, I walked some 15K while the others, who also went along the wet and muddy aqueduct, totaled 20 K. 

The ride between Creel and Batopilas was extraordinary:  partly paved but often wet dirt.   Enroute, we stopped at various scenic spots:  waterfalls, lakes and volcanic eruptions of old.  The Valley of the Monks was high on the outstanding sights of the trip.  Back at Creek for a night, there was time to walk about the small Mexican cow town.  And again, I grabbed onto the slow operating computer - wanted to be updated on the world’s affairs.

The train ride from Creel to Chihuahua was long and less scenic.  We came into Chihuahua late at night where there occurred  only glitch in the well planned program.  No one met us and we were overcharged for the taxi to the hotel.  However, there was prompt reimbursement the next day - a staff change meant  someone just didn’t get the word. 

Two of us took a included tour the next day, in and about Chihuahua while two others went about on their own - we met up for a mid afternoon meal, our final gathering as we all flew out the following morning.  Chihuahua is a good sized city with momentos of both Indian and Spanish heritage.  From the Cathedral to the Capital’s   historical murals to Pancho Villa ‘s residence - I saw it all despite closure of most museums.  Our guide took time and energy to make sure we appreciated Chihuahua’s past and present.

Accommodations:  Ranged from Holiday Inn in Mexico City and Chihuahua  and  Best Western in Creel to the basic  Paraiso del Oso near Bahuichivo and Hotel Juanita in Batopilas with Posada’s Hotel Mirador‘s spectacular views making up for its touristy ambiance.  All different,  a contrast with one another.

Food:  Ah, that’s a different story.   There were several really nice  meals but then, in Mexico City, I had the worst meal of a lifetime at a vegetarian restaurant.  This was not a gourmet's journey - some of the meals were ok, some were suffered.  But then, I avoid the nightshades which limits me.  The cost of nearly half were included. 

The tour:  California Native did an excellent job of preparing and executing the tour.  They rate an A+.

Comment: It is too bad that there were not more visitors.  The local economy is suffering from lack of tourists.   Apparently,  fear of drug traffickers and personal safety issues keep people away.  The Mexicans seem determined to keep the peace -- cops of one kind or another were evident throughout.  One guide said the difficulties developed when the past President decided to make war on the drug cartels while likely, there will be some sort of accommodation with the new regime - thus, less conflict but more drugs.  We certainly didn’t feel unsafe.

N.B: Also trains run on Mexican time:  consistently late up to two hours or more. 

Cost:  $1765 for the California's Native's tour including the extra night at El Fuerte plus 800 Pesos apiece for trip to Urique.  Approximately 1570 Pesos for shared hotel room  in Mexico City.  Air fare San Francisco-Mexico City-Los Mochis; Chihuahua-SF was $856.47.  Cat care:  $650.

Fall 2012: Two Weeks in Jordan

Nov 3-18 2012:  Fifth year with GARP

I looked at past trip notes for the  Great  Arab Revolt Project  to see what I could add to my experiences for this two week working holiday.  Only that I continue to enjoy the sense of purpose and the comradeship that joins us together.  Though my work still remains mostly scut labor - sieving and scraping: basic archaeology. Necessary though not romantic.

This began after I heard a presentation by one of the directors and, without any archaeological experience, applied to join this ten year project - there are three yet to go and I hope to hang on to the bitter end.

This year, there were ten staff and eighteen volunteer, six of them, “newbies”.  However, several volunteers are  professionals on a busman’s holiday and others were skilled artisans.  As always, there were several military men:  one a twenty year Marine Corps veteran and another a South African Special Forces  retiree.   So, the  South African,  a Swiss, a Scot, a Jordanian.  two Aussies, six Americans, - the rest English.  Sponsored by the University of Bristol and the Jordanian Ministries of Antiquities, among others,  GARP is an investigation of WW 1 activity in the Middle East.  The Lawrence of Arabia dig, as it were.

We stayed back at the Edom Hotel, the place of my first  trip to Jordan, some years before GARP.  A comfortable three-star whose internet was unworkable, leaving me with regular visits to the pizza parlor cum internet on the main street.  Enroute to the Movenpick Hotel, place of serious ce cream.

So on 7:30AM mornings, our group took off in bus and several 4x4s through the dawn, usually through Ma’an - until that got a bit rough with protests over gasoline increases -to the assignments  d’jour.  Often, several hours commute. Depending on meeting schedules, we would head back latest 4PM. Most of us were on work assignment; a few were investigating further projects, others stayed back to process the prior day’s finds.  It was always evolving,  always subject to change.  Earlier days’  discoveries often determined the next step.

Sites this year were Wadi Rutm Fort, Tooth Hill Camp, Siddon’s Fort (named for the RFC pilot who mapped the area),  Madawarra (near the Saudi border) with a quick look back at Wuheida.  I had been across the border earlier this year, exploring the Saudi side of the old Hejaz RR, which had stretched about the then unfettered Arabian countryside on the road to Mecca. Almost all sites are related to stations along the Hejez RR.

In addition to the usual digging and sieving, mental detecting and recording, there was  field reconnaissance  on several sites with some success. I did spent a day being a rather inept GPS recorder for a metal detectorist - my  illegible handwriting  didn’t help; I never did translate one  item.  Bad!
 
The wonderful moments were when several staff interviewed a local Mudawarra Sheik whose grandfather had fought in the Revolt.  I would have given my eye teeth to have heard this conversation.   The same man became trusting enough  of our guys to guide them around.  Even better,  he  took control of the batch of kids hanging around, all to  eager to “assist” us.

We did well this year with bits and pieces indicating WW 1 usage: shrapnel, cartridges, tunnels, etc.  Staff was pleased to find work at Mudawarra was feasible; I suspect we will be there again. As much as possible, there is an effort to validate places and finds with existing information including Lawrence’s tome, Seven Pillars of Wisdom.

The two days off saw me back at Petra - magnificent as always - and to Shobat - an unrestored crusader castle where three of us scrambled about, sans any safety measures. Next year, I hope to arrive early and go  north of Amman to   Umm Qais with both Roman and Ottoman era ruins plus views of the Golan Heights.

I started out this trip, feeling a bit grim.  Rain and chilly weather in CA kicked up the arthritis in my back at the beginning.  Toting goopers full of dirt  exacerbated that so I moved to sitting and sieving.  Eventually was able to move onto scraping and digging.  Walking was unaffected.  But I did feel badly I was on not top form.  And by the time I arrived home, there was the   yearly Fall cold, which saw me across from Amman to Chicago to SFO in a tight,  crowded thirteen-plus hour flight.  A roomier trip onto SFO.  And I did avoid overnight in Terminal 3, my parking place of past years.

Major Costs:  Airfare via Orbitz:  $1226.70.  GARP (inclusive of Room/Board): $3125. Pet  Care: $689.50.

October 2012 at the Oregon Shakespeare

I flew to Ashland, Oregon, to the Shakespeare Festival for my  birthday, likely my thirtieth? fortieth?  time there.  I think   I first went in 1952, then sporadically for several years  before  attending with more  regularity for  at least twenty years, usually in September for I could claim  Labor Day  as part of my vacation time. 

For years, my husband and I drove.  Then we flew Alaska Air, San Jose to Portland to Medford with a shuttle to Ashland.  As a single, I continued with that for awhile.  Then tried  the bus,  then  the train - wrote about both of these trips earlier.  Gave up and have been taking  a direct United flight from San Francisco to Medford, still using the shuttle to Ashland. 

Same with accommodations:  I’ve stayed at half a dozen places:   early on, at Jackson Hot Springs and then in Ashland.  Motels at both north and south ends of town as well  downtown.  I’ve now settled on a Main Street hotel, above various stores, comfortable and cozy, with facilities down the hall.  They do have insuite arrangements, but I can manage otherwise.  In the lobby, overstuffed couch and chairs, hot tea available along with the New York Times.  What more can one want?

So I was there for Birthday time.  Besides plays, I had considered river rafting.  But the downtown office was closed for the season.  And it was nippy enough to require a wet suit - which I didn’t have.  So I settled for theatre though really wanted  to do something exciting at this time of life.  I have been on a camel trek, sky dived, flown an aircraft - five plays in two theatres in three days seemed tame.  So be it.

As usual, I did do some walking about this most picturesque town with leaves turning to rust and yellow.  Lithia Park is, as always, lovely, with various wildlife happily bathing in the ponds.  I have so often threatened to move here; every time I visit, I reconsider the possibility.  With the college and the Festival, there is much cultural activity.  Two things hold me up:  changing my medical coverage and the hassle of traveling out of  Medford. 

The plays were a mix:  Troulus and Cressida was my Shakespeare; Animal Crackers was more vaudeville than farce;  All the Way was a saga of LBJ, Party People was of the Black Panther days, and Medea/MacBeth/Cinderella was a musical mishmash of three classics - need to see that again to figure it out. 

The audiences were enthusiastic. - many of  the gray-haired   set with an assortment of canes about.  This bunch was balanced with   groups of students.  Though late in the season, the house was  well filled; several performances were sell outs.  And it was late enough that the pre show performances were over and the Elizabethan Theatre shut down.  I did attend several  after show discussions which were interesting and gave  insights into the play, the casting and production generally 

Coming home, the flights were running an hour or more late due to fog at SFO.   I was able to catch an earlier flight - which left at about the time of my scheduled flight - and made it home in time to feed Sam on schedule; his schedule.

Costs: United Express SFO-Medford was  $ 347.    Cascade Shuttle: Medford Airport- Ashland RT: $60.  .  Accommodation: $287.  Meals ran about  $150.     .

Plan for next year:  there is a shuttle from the Mountain View to Ashland:  $55 base cost.  I’ll give that a go.  And avoid the airport security hassle.

Yearly trip to the UK: 14-24 Sep 2012

It’s Fall and I am off to London and Oxford:  Theatre, friends and the bi-yearly TE Lawrence Symposium.  Again,. stayed at a Bed-and-Breakfast Hotel near Russell Square in London - immaculate with facilities down the stairs.  Computer services across the way.  I really like London and could have spent more than the four allotted days there. 

I did see four plays:  three were excellent and one, despite outstanding reviews, was a bomb. There were two mucial performance: one was a combination of film and music (Planet Earth) and the other was a memorial to an academic/musician/author - ended with several Weill songs from The Happy End.  I concluded with a San Francisco Ballet performance at Sadlers Wells - appropriate! 

Visited with friends:  a Hampstead walk and lunch with a colleague from the Iraq trip and then  supper and a show with two women with whom I’ve shared several overseas excursions, people I will meet again in several months on a Copper Canyon holiday trip. 

But the high point was rummaging about at the Palestine Exploration Fund, the group that sponsored Leonard Woolley and TE Lawrence in a pre WW1 trip into the Sinai, as the  “beard” for Colonel Stewart Newcombe’s military survey.  They had original correspondence from Woolley, the expedition’s senior member as well a notes from TE Lawrence, who did not want credit as co author on The Wilderness of Zin.  Additionally,  I was shown a survey sketch by the young  Lt. H. E. Kitchener. Impressive!  Surprisingly, only one of the plethora of Lawrence biographers had been to the PEF office to review their documents. 

I missed out on the Imperial War Museum and the Special Forces Club but did catch the police security outside the Uruguayan Embassy - there just in case the Wikileaks guy came out.  The weather was lovely and I ws able to walk all over - used by Oyster card only to come into town from Heathrow and to get to Marble Arch for the Oxford bus.   Oh well, have to have something on the list for next year!

So off to Oxford to the Symposium.  Housing was at St. Hilda’s, a bit out of the way from main town Oxford.  Room was basic with a bit of a hike down the hall to the facilities.  Weather  was cool and overcast with some rain at the end.  But Oxford, as  Morse and Lewis fans  know, is a lovely old town.  Before, I’ve stayed in the town’s center at Christ Church or St. John’s, both a bit nicer than St. Hilda’s. The Symposium was held at the Jacqueline du Pré auditorium which featured  a lovely photo of her in her heyday, so vital and alive.

There was a prequel to the Symposium  on Friday for those of us who came early - this included several people  I knew from the Great Arab Revolt Project, where I have been a participant for the past four? five? years.  .  We had time at the Codrington Library at All Souls and Ashmolean Museum, viewing Lawrence artifacts, in the morning. The afternoon began with  a  DVD slide show  of Lawrence’s life and times.  Then concluded with one of our  GARP staff’s presentation of the Jordanian terrain, both from RFC photos of WW1  in comparison with own photos., some of which were quite spectacular.   That evening, a lovely supper at a Middle Eastern Restaurant.

On to the two day main event; eight lectures in all, most power point presentations with slides.  Some better than others.  I had trouble focusing on papers read as opposed to those more spontaneously presented. Topics ranged  from friends and contemporaries of Lawrence to his  dress to  Herbert Read (Aldington’s  predecessor) to the Hejaz Railway to   the 1920 Iraq Rebellion to   Arab Spring.

Surprisingly, I found  the talk showing TEL’s various costumes, both military and Arab, quite interesting as it  showed his changing sense of identity. The slides of the Hejaz fascinated me, for I had seen  some of the sites.  The talks on W. F. Sterling and A. W.Wavell were superb - good speakers and exceptional subjects.  While one of the questions re: Arab Spring was how TEL would have viewed the current events; my question was how TEL would have viewed an organization and a symposium devoted to his life and ideas. 

There was a dinner at the college with an after dinner speaker, a quite affable book dealer with a fine sense of humor.     And that was it.  The strays met for breakfast the next morning before catching trains and flights to their next destination - for me, the bus to Heathrow where I, and the San Francisco Ballet company, headed home.

Food:  In London, tended to pick up a bite at Pre a Manger except for two meals in a proper restaurant.  One at  The Wigmore Cafe and the other at Woodlands, an Indian place with some tied to a Omani restaurant of the same name.  Both  good.  At Oxford, the food at the college was excellent as was the  off campus restaurant.  I also had a couple of  bites at a nearbypub which were okay.

Accommodation:  In London, it was my third stay at The Celtic Hotel, a very comfortable bed and breakfast. I paid £290 cash for the five nights.(they will take credit cards for an additional  3%.)  Student room at St. Hilda’s, Oxford was.  £42 a night. (suspect I was the only one left  in this large building that last night. )

Transportation:  United Air round trip SFO-LHR:  $1220.  Oyster card: £20.  Bus fares: £30.

Sam care: $420.

I’m ready to return, like tomorrow!  London was my first overseas trip and I keep repeating it, year after year. 

Pamir Mountains and the Wakhan Corridor June-July 2012 w/ Wild Frontiers

This morning - several days home from Central Asia - I read of six killed in Afghanistan. This was not the Afghanistan I just left. The Afghanistan where I had just spent ten days was free of conflict - no Taliban and no ISAAF troops. Rather, the Central Asia Institute, the Wildlife Conservation Society and the Aga Khan Foundation were the active players: in education, training local rangers, providing health services and bridge/road building.

Northeast Afghanistan is a tit of land between Tajikistan, Pakistan and China, mapped by Europeans in 1895 in an effort to provide a Afghan buffer zone between Britain and Russia. This is a really a land out of time: The people of the Pamir are Ismaili, a moderate Muslim sect with little of the militancy found in other parts of the world. I had run into Ismailism along the Kararkorum when earlier in Pakistan. The Spiritual leader, the Aga Khan was educated and lives in the West, supporting his adherents through his Foundation.

This was a twenty day tour, starting in Dushanbe, Tajikistan, another escapee from Russian rule, having the style and class of a Soviet refugee. There were five us of us, including our leader, a well traveled Danish ex-pat, who managed the logistics, the supplies, the cook, the local guide and four drivers. The two other women had traveled with her before: a London doc and an Irish architect cum photographer - then the Just-Traveling-Through bearded Aussie guy who had taught, some here and more there, throughout the world in earlier years. We ended up sharing sleeping spaces, in one configuration or another.

Few foreign tourists wander into the Corridor, mostly trekkers and mountaineers. Per the guesthouse logbooks, Poles had been recent visitors. While we were there, a group of Canadians were starting their several week trek into the mountains. Our group drove about the area on most challenging roads, to the end of track that melted into the glaciers. Several of our group attempted to check nearby petroglyphs but were overwhelmed by the overflowing streams. I settled for visiting neighbors, who offered tea and yogurt.

The AKF and Norwegians sponsored a series of guesthouses, certainly more comfortable than the teahouses I slept in in a prior trip across Afghanistan in the lower Four-Forty - this now was the upper Four. Beds were either that, a single bed, or a carpeted/matted, platform, With facilities of a sort: Western toilet atop the hole in the ground or a standard squat number or simply, the hole in the ground. Water, yes! Cold, and sometimes warm water, for Hindu shower.

We drove down some of Tajikistan’s Pamir Highway before crossing over the Panj and moving to the Afghan side of of the border. Anyway you want to describe it, it was basic. Countryside was pristine, peaceful, beautiful, awesome. Many Splendored Mountains! The people were friendly - Salaams were cheerfully exchanged. Hospitality was a big thing. It was offered. It was expected.

Yet, they were were not totally isolated: Solar units and satellite dishes popped up across the landscapes; the electric light bulb in our guesthouse was a modern energy saving one. Near one place we stayed, Pakistan workers were building a detention facility - also near the conservation center focused on tracking the Snow Leopard.

We and the Canadians financed an afternoon’s game of buzkashi, which involves a headless goat, some horses and their riders. So far as we well could tell, our cook, a wild horseman who could manage upsidedown riding, won.

We were able to spend time in several schools with both boys and girls in attendance. However, the girls left early on for they had work to do at home, while often the boys were able to stay later. Built by the Greg Mortenson group, they were were not always fully staffed by the government. I talked with one set of parents who were very pleased by the education offered all their children. We also talked with the doctor and several nurses at one of the local clinics.

There were several efforts to set up craft work spaces for the women. They appeared barely used. Four hand sewing machines were still boxed. The space seemed most used when visitors came to town. Otherwise people worked in their homes or brought crafts to your place. The women were not traditionally covered but wore colorful red based garb with great freedom of movement.

There were, to me, surprisingly few check points. There were police but no Army around. All the Border crossing, processing was done by hand. A couple of officials, a couple of scribes, and some hangers-on. In our two Land Rovers, we drove about the Corridor, our drivers conquering the rocky and wet river crossings, with aplomb and a minimum of blown tyres.

Ah, food. We brought our own, along with our high riding cook, who came up with more creative ways to fix canned this-and-that. Once we left Tajikistan, there was no fresh whatever. Muesli, dried and canned fruit and juice for breakfast, tuna and pasta and canned vegs for lunch and dinner. Once back across to Khorog, Tajikistan, hot shower and omelet for breakfast.

By the time I got back to Dushanbe, I had a intestinal problem - I rarely get sick but I was wiped out at the end of this trip. I had, accidentally but fortunately, a two day layover. I spent time in bed though did get out the last evening for an Operatic performance of “historical significance” - totally unintelligible to me though I did figure out a hero an a villain.

It took me several days and three flights to wing my way home. On the last, from South Korea to San Francisco, I was lucky enough to have a vacant seat next to me. For the next few months, I'm home per Sam's demands - he's been a good patient cat throughout my travels and it's time to listen to his request.

An expensive trip - in fact the most expensive trip I’ve undertaken. It’s been an expensive travel year - back to the dull roar next year. Cost over $5000 for the tour and another $3200 for airfare. Cat care cost $930 - but he's worth every penny - and visas and permits close to $500.

Ten Days in Cuba: May 2012

Back on the road again. This time, Cuba, the last of the three countries heading my travel list for some years. Countries that have been all but impossible for me to visit. And this year, I’ve done them all: Saudi Arabia, Libya and now, Cuba.

I entered Cuba as a “delegate” with Global Exchange with a tour focused on Arts, Culture and Architecture. Most of the time was in Havana for we were rained out of Trinidad - in fact, the local resort where we stayed a night, closed down, thoroughly soaked by storms. We ended back in Havana a day early, at the Hotel Nacional, no great hardship there.

But to begin: there were twenty-two in the group: Writers, photographers, architectural historians, students, dancers and other interested travelers. Most stayed with the program though some went their own way - they had other agendas. The itinerary included a walking tour of Old Havana, visits to the Fine Arts Museum, an artist’s studio, meeting with an urban planner, time at various organizations, i.e. the Muraleado community project, the Ludwig Foundation, the Antonio Nuñez Jimenez Foundation, Casa de Africa and Fototeca (local photography) plus observation of dance classes and a rehearsal. And more.

Extra curricularly, I attended several performances of Ballet Nacional de Cuba’s student and main company, an enthusiastic song-dance Opera on the Streets and the Buena Vista Social club with its two marvelous Spanish-style ballroom dancers. And I did get to Hemingway’s Cuban home, now a museum, Finca La Vigia. I missed the Museum of Danse.

Cuba has been described as a country fixated in the fifties. There is some truth to that, what with the old cars and buildings, both in good condition and dilapidated disrepair. Buildings are old Spanish influenced Greco-Roman with decorative metal on both windows and balconies. In the Old Havana, the ground floor was often barren with rickety stairs leading to apartments that would be rejected by any self respected tenement.

My roommate visited several locals, friends of a friend, and reported the basic living conditions of even middle class, had few facilities in their small living areas. Toilets there and elsewhere, were sans seat and lid, leading to a half squat; toilet paper was rare, often handed out at entry for a small tip.

We started with a walk and talk about Old Havana, a presentation of the Master Plan for restoration. Into various plazas and religious buildings. A good orientation to the area.

For me, the high point was the time at Pro Danza, Laura Alonzo’s dance studio and company. As we drifted into observe class, I felt totally at ease, set to remain there indefinitely. The dancers were good, well trained - the men all but hit the ceiling of the room with their jumps and leaps. I was able to talk some with Alonzo, the daughter of Alicia and Fernando, who was charming and energetic as she talked of her background and the company. At seventy, she still takes class - my kind of woman!

Miguel Coyula was an outstanding speaker - not the filmmaker but the architect and urban planner . He reviewed the history of Cuban from the 1500s when it was a stopping point for ships from the colonies onto to their home ports, to the present. (Noted was that the Cuban Capital building, almost identical to the US Capital, excepting two metres taller.) Baptista and the Mafia worked hand in glove. So it was at Revolution, people trashed the casinos. - and parking meters! Afterwards, modern buildings rose, often prefabs influenced by the Soviet and Eastern European styles.

Coyula talked of owning his apartment but has a struggle to find funds to maintain it. The cost of materials is very expensive. Until the Soviet Union collapsed, 80% of the trade came from the Eastern bloc. Since, Cuba has been struggling. Seventy percent of the food is imported. There is encouragement of small farming and interest in a hybrid economy: 40% planned and 40% private. Problem is fifty years of a planned economy to buck against. Plus a brain drain. Tourism is increasing - Canadians and Americans are most numerous. And they were obviously all about. (And the Cubans do come out ahead, what with two currencies - one for them and one for us - plus a 10% cut, with American dollars).

I found the Muraleando Community Project, fill of life, much more interesting than the Colon Cemetery. Members had decorated several blocks of the area surrounding their building, worthy of mention in Lonely Planet. The stop at the Antonio Nuñez Jimenez Foundation, a cultural and scientific organization was most interesting for along with Jimenez’ writings, was a nice collection of artifacts from Peru and Mexico. The Fine Arts Museum had an extensive collection including some children’s art work. Across the street was the Military Museum, which was being repaired so no admittance.

Out in a one time elegant residential district was Alicia Leah’s home and studio. I was more interested in the neighborhood and her home than her painting. Her home was well kept as were some of the neighboring places - but not all. I thought of Coyula’s comments about the expense of maintenance materials..

The Ludwig Foundation was a NGO focusing on contemporary Cuban art while Case de Africa took a look at the African influences - I opted out of that early; the drumming was too piercing, man! I also left the Fototeca early, becoming bored with some of the presentations; they also had a Andres Serrano exhibit, most of which was a bit too avant garde for me. .

I took off with two of our poets one night, to a cafe where poets were reading their work. It was well attended and they had good ice cream, a must for me. Some were really performance artists while others just stood and simply read. It was mas intersante! Even in Spanish.

The trip ended at the Artisan’s Fair, located in an old warehouse with three elderly train engines before it. It was made clear to us, rail travel was NOT the way to go. But the engines were nicely restored and made an interesting entry way to the building, where all sorts of artistic items were sold. Paintings, leather work, weaving - you name it. A nice ending to our explorations. I walked across the street to look into an old 15th Century church (San Francisco?) with a stained glass window of recent (2000?) origin - obviously new but appropriate to the building. From the chairs and music stands, it must have fair acoustics as it obviously is used for chamber concerts.

Wile we did see and walk about Cienfuegos, the Pearl of the South, we missed out entirely Trinidad, a World Heritage site - the tropical storms were just too much.

There is a lushness to Cuba, greenery about. Though it contrasts with the exhaust smoke from the autos. But, there was the spirit and vitality of the people. I couldn’t help but compare to Libya: there they had recently thrown off the yoke of a Strong Man, now determined not to repeat that; conversely fifty years ago, Cuba had thrown off the corruption of a Strong Man, but replaced him with another Strong Man. Yet, I had the same feeling of exuberance from those I talked with in both countries. Like Libya, Cuba is poor, third world, but full of hope.

Bits and pieces: Patterned hose popular on the younger set, even those in uniform. Hava Nagila being played by a roving quartet at mealtime. The wet suited scuba diver with harpoon and fish, rising from the harbor water by the light of the moon. The sound of the evening cannon going off, leaving me with a day’s worth of ringing in my ears and a broken blood vessel in my eye - I was right next to it, a bad mistake! The couple who gave three of us a ride to the hotel when taxis weren’t forthcoming. The non-English speaking woman who was so concerned that I had a untied shoe lace.

Accommodation: We stayed at four hotels, three in Havana and a resort place outside of Trinidad. The first two hotels were in various parts of Old Havana - we were moved to give us a chance to experience various architectures and districts. These were comfortable 3* hotels with an efficient staff. The resort was having its problems but, given good weather, would have been quite comfortable.. Its customers had come down for R/R and were not happy campers. The last hotel was the Nacional, a year younger than me. A 5*, it was elegant with three restaurants/cafes, a swimming pool and a couple of night clubs. I snuck in one night to see a couple of would-be Apache dancers perform; it was there I saw the Buena Vista bunch.

Food: Excellent. Usually we ate at restaurants patronized by Westerners. Two meals - breakfast and lunch or dinner, were included. Some places I’d never find again and others were quite evident. Choices were usually chicken, fish or pork. You could pick up cheap but good sandwiches at street cafes.

The Tour: Well planned, keeping in mind various artistic interests. And enough spare time to pursue individual agendas. The guides were exceptional: knowledgeable and patient - chasing down tickets for various evening activities. A minimum of propagandizing.

Cost: Global Exchange charged $2600 which included airfare from Cancun to Havana. The sllight from San Francisco to Cancun: $509.63. Overnight Cancun (including restaurant): $150. Entertainment, meals, donations and gifts in Havana: $500.