African Diary: Epilogue Townships & Tea Bags

by Bob Sparrow

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Jill Heyes

If you’ve read my ‘African Diary’ series you’ll know that I wrote briefly about the ‘townships’ or shanties that line the freeway for miles outside of Cape Town and throughout South Africa.  These shanties were created principally in the Apartheid Era, which ran from the end of the 1800s until the early 1990s (yes, 1990s!), when blacks were evicted from their property and relocated to the shanties .

An accurate count of how many people are living in shanties today in South Africa is difficult, but it’s somewhere in the 8-10 million range.  They live in shacks made of tin, wood and brick, have little water, which is of poor quality, sewage is an on-going problem, electricity, if they have it, is achieved illegally through exposed power wires, presenting a constant danger to inhabitants, especially children.  Schools are ill-equipped and inadequate and many children end up dropping out and joining  gangs, which are prevalent among the teens living there.  Believe me, it makes one feel pretty grateful for what we have and very sympathetic to the plight of the shanty inhabitants.

One person who saw all this and decided to do something about it was Jill Heyes, who came to South Africa from England and lives in Hout Bay near DSC00168Cape Town.  Jill taught crafts at a local church and regularly passed by the shanties on her way to and from home and was horrified at the poverty she saw.  One day while having tea with a friend, they were discussing the living conditions in the shanties and trying to figure out what one person could possibly do to help.  Her friend looked at the tea bag in her cup and got an idea.

Original T Bag Designs was born.  Jill started a business making crafts out of discarded tea bags and in the process hired people out of the shanties to create and make these crafts.  That was over 10 years ago, today her business is thriving.  Several who have come to work for her have now earned enough money to buy a home and move out of the shanties.  You can see a short video on Jill’s inspirational story on You Tube at the following link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=M5VH6UAgMIk

You can also visit their website at:  http://www.tbagdesigns.co.za   and buy something!  Then you’ll know that you helped create one of those great smiles that you see in the pictures on their website.

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African Diary – Part 4 Victoria Falls and Out of Africa

by Bob Sparrow (back from Africa)

Africa 442

Victoria Falls

I have that feeling that our time in Africa is going way too quickly as we head to the last leg of our journey, Victoria Falls – one of the ‘7 Natural Wonders of the World’.  Our trip from Notten’s Game Reserve necessitated an evening layover in Johannesburg since there is only one flight a day into Victoria Falls from ‘Jo’burg’, as it’s known to the locals.  Arriving in the late afternoon and leaving the next morning only gave us enough time to wipe the elephant dung off our shoes, visit Nelson Mandela Square and gradually acclimate to having electricity in our hotel room.

 Zimbabwe, formerly know as Southern Rhodesia, was colonized by the British in 1890; our hotel, the Victoria Falls Hotel, took us back in time to the turn of the century, when it was built by the Brits during the construction of the Victoria Falls Bridge in 1906 as part of a grand plan to run a railroad line through the heart of Africa from Cape Town to Cairo.  If I described the hotel as being grand and colonial, in an elegant, Edwardian sort of way, neither of us would know what I was talking about, so just look at the pictures.

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After walking the meticulously groomed grounds of the hotel, we were whisked off to a sunset cocktail cruise on the Zambezi River, where we witnessed a playful ‘bloat’ of hippopotamus, a sun-worshiping crocodile and a spectacular sunset.  One of our fellow cruisers was a rather arrogant young American, who didn’t fit in too well with the rest of the animal lovers on board, as he was bragging about the hunting trip he had just completed where he shot an elephant, a buffalo and something else, maybe it was his wife, I stopped listening.  He was either very quiet toward the end of the cruise or he was that thing we saw bobbing in the water at sunset heading for the falls.  I’ve included a spectacular picture of the sunset that evening, but honestly it doesn’t do the sunset justice.  We head back to the hotel for dinner.DSC00532

 The hotel is steeped in the history of explorer, missionary and liberator, Dr. David Livingstone and the famous meeting with Henry Stanley in the middle of Africa.  The balmy evening allowed us to enjoy our dinner at one of the hotel’s outside restaurants.  Before dinner a local tribe provided entertainment with their singing and dancing to traditional music.  Sensing that Apple didn’t have these songs in their ‘iCloud’, I purchased their CD, my fourth of the trip.

Africa 384 copyThe next day we loaded up for our ‘Barrel Ride Over the Falls’ tour – just kidding, it was already fully booked.  We did take a tour of Victoria Falls, whose original name translates to ‘The Smoke That Thunders’ and even though there was not a cloud in the sky, we wore rain gear and got soaking wet.  A ‘congress’ of baboons apparently signed up for the same tour we did as they followed us to the various viewing points along the falls.  They were amazing – the falls, well the baboons too.  Even if I told you that an average of about 38,000 cubic feet of water goes over the falls PER SECOND, you probably still couldn’t imagine that much water – I didn’t even know that water came in cubic feet, all I know is that it’s a lot of water.  The falls width of 5600 feet and height of 350 feet make it the largest sheet of falling water in the world.

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‘Today’s Special’

After the tour we walked into town to get a bite to eat, but my picture of ‘Today Special’ tells you why we decided to wait until we got back to the hotel to eat.  We were told to never eat warthog in a month with any letter in it.  We continued walking to the middle of the Victoria Falls Bridge, which was the scene of a bungee jumping accident last year when the bungee cord detached and dropped an Australian woman into the water 360 feet below.  The bungee operator responsible for the accident, Cecil “Oops” Newman, no longer works there, but someone did do a jump while we were there watching – crazy!

On our way back to the hotel we stopped at a ‘craft market’ to bargain with the locals for their handmade wares.  I rationalized my poor negotiating skills as wanting to help boost their economy by paying, according to my wife, somewhere between 6 and 7 times what the craft was worth.  But who can put a price on a hand-carved African mask from Zimbabwe?  Apparently I couldn’t.

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View of Victoria Falls from hotel

Even though I’m writing this while in Africa, you won’t read it until I’m at the chiropractor’s office getting my back adjusted after the 40 hour trip home.  Yes, it’s a long way getting there and coming home, but was it worth it?  Oh yeah!  The people, the places, the animals, the things we experienced, (Did I mention the people?) made it the trip of a lifetime!

A big thank you to Jack and JJ Budd, our travel companions, who did a similar trip two years ago and kept us from making ‘rookie travel mistakes’, to our travel agent, Lenni Curl of First Travel of California in Laguna Niguel, who secured us great accommodations and got us on all the right tours, and to David and Mia Notten for their gracious hospitality at their ‘family’ game reserve in Kruger National Park.

And thank you readers, especially you blog subscribers, for vicariously taking this incredible journey with us and thank you for your wonderful comments.

 

 

 

 

African Diary – Part 3 On Safari

by Bob Sparrow (still in Africa)

All animal photos are mine . . . but you can look at them.

notten'sFrom Cape Town we flew into Mpumalanga International Airport (yes, that’s spelled correctly, I think they forgot to buy a vowel) in Nelspruit, then took a two hour ride to Notten’s Bush Camp in the Sabi Sands Game Reserve in Kruger National Park for the ‘safari’ portion of the trip. There are many Bush Camps in Kruger Park, but I can’t imagine any being better than the one where we stayed – Notten’s.  It’s family owned and operated; the current proprietors are David and Mia Notten; it was David’s grandfather who bought the land in 1964 as a family retreat; David’s father and mother, Gilly & Bambi (no, I’m not making these names up) opened their home up and started the camp in 1986 and subsequently handed it over to David and Mia.  There are some great family photos of the three generations on the wall in the meeting room.  We saw pictures of Susie, who heads the serving staff, when she was a baby with her mom and dad andjeep grandfather, who was hired by David’s grandfather back in the 60s.  There’s a picture of Thomas, our game drive ‘tracker’, who arrived from Mozambique at 13 and started working at Notten’s as a gardener – he’s now 43.  David’s cousin, Dale also works at the camp and cooked us a delightful barbeque on our first night.  David and Mia, both personable and friendly were always on hand to accommodate our every need, and what made us feel most welcome here was that everyone immediately treated us like ‘one of the family’ – a really nice feeling when you’re 10,000 miles from home in the African bush.

A unique feature of Notten’s was that there was no, or little, electricity.  There was one plug per room to charge cameras or computers, but all the lighting was by kerosene lamp or candle.  No television, no clocks.  We started out missing the conveniences of lights, electrical outlets everywhere and a little TV at night to catch up on the news, but after four nights we ended up missing the charm of our candle-lite room and the sounds of the savanna at night.

2013-05-24 09.14.27Dinners were a special event at Notten’s – tables in the eating area, which were separated for breakfast and lunch into tables for 4-6, where all pushed together in the evening so everyone in camp (20-24 max) ate together at one long table, thus promoting the sharing of stories about where people were from, places they’d been and places they were going.

The food was incredible – I’m going to try to duplicate their bananas French Toast when I get home, but I have a feeling I won’t quite capture the essence of it.  Their lemon meringue pie was like nothing I’ve ever tasted . . . only better.  OK, I think you get the point, the accommodations and staff were awesome, let’s move on to the reason we went there – the animals.

We arrive in camp around 2:30 in the afternoon and one hour later we were on our first ‘game drive’.  Game drives are conducted by a ‘tracker’ driving a 6-8 passenger open-air Land Cruiser, with a ‘spotter’ sitting in a seat attached to the hood.  A typical game drive lasts about three hours and covers miles of dirt and off roads, throughout the savanna and bush – wherever the animals happen to be.

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We first encountered a male, female and baby rhinoceros and drove to within 15-20 feet of them and watched them grazing – they gave us a casual glance and went back to the job at hand – eating.  Shortly thereafter we came upon four lions, three male, one female; we were told that the males fought over the female and we saw the ‘winner’ and the female go off to . . . make more lions.  One of the spurned suitors dejectedly limped off into the bush.  We first heard the sound, then saw a cloud of dust in the distance, we then witness a herd of approximately 400 Cape Buffalo stampeding right past us.  When the last one had passed us, we saw the reason they were running – there was a leopard trailing them waiting for a baby Cape to get separated from the herd, thus providing the leopard with dinner.  But the herd was keeping a close eye on the calves, so no Buffalo Burgers for the leopard tonight.  We saw the leopard disappear into the brush and heard growls and hisses and then saw a honey badger running out of the brush and the leopard smugly walking out behind him with what the honey badger thought was going to be his dinner, a large king rat that he had killed.   Thomas, our tracker, told us that a honey badger, pound DSC00353for pound, is probably the fiercest animal in Africa, and that he could have kicked the leopards ass, but perhaps he had rat for lunch, so he reluctantly let the leopard have it.  It was now dark as Thomas headed the safari through a maze of dirt roads, without streetlights I might add, back towards camp.  After driving about 20 minutes, he stopped; we knew every time he stopped it was because he spotted something he wanted us to see.  We just sat there in the dark wondering what we were supposed to be looking at.  “Look over there,” he said, as he flashed a spot light to our right.  We turned and no more than 15 feet from us was a large bull elephant just standing by the roadside.

What an incredible first drive; we join the ‘Big Five, First Drive’ Club – I just made that club up, but amazingly on our first game drive we saw all of the ‘Big 5’ animals (Elephant, Lion, Leopard, Cape Buffalo and Rhino – members of the Big Five were chosen for the difficulty in hunting them and the degree of danger involved, rather than their size).

DSC00376The next day I took the opportunity between drives to do a ‘bush walk’ – it was just Thomas and me wandering through the bush, he is obligated to take a rifle with him on all such walks.  As we walked along, we came across 6-8 giraffe, he showed me the tracks and scat of various animals as well as some interesting vegetation, like a weed that you can wash your hands with – it acts just like soap when you rub it between your hands.  As we walked along through the bush I asked a number of questions about the flora and fauna.  My last question was, “Have you ever had to use your gun?”  To which Thomas, stopped, looked me in the eye and replied in a very somber way, “Yes, just last week.”  I froze in my tracts as I now imagined all kinds of animals charging us and Thomas firing at them until he ran out of bullets.  “What were the circumstances?” I asked.  He replied calmly, but in a serious tone, “Last week there was a man who asked too many questions, so I shot him.”  Then he broke out in a big smile and told me he’s never had to use the gun.

We had two more days in the Game Reserve – a game drive in the early morning (6:30 – 9:30) then back for breakfast, and a game drive in the afternoon (3:30 – 6:30).  Aside from more ‘Big 5’ sightings, we saw, hippos, giraffe, impala, baboons, wart hogs, wildebeest, hyena a myriad of small furry animals and birds that we’re still trying to figure out what they were.  We had a leopard come right next to our vehicle – I literally could have reached down and petted him – but I thought better of it.

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On our last drive, as night was falling, the three Land Cruisers from Notten’s all stopped out in a clearing in the savanna for cocktails and appetizers around a campfire.  A full moon rise added to the magic of the evening as David pointed out the ‘Southern Cross’ constellation – the first time I’d ever seen it.  The Cosby, Still & Nash song by the same name echoed in my head . . .

When you see the Southern Cross for the first time,

You understand now why you came this way

‘Cause the truth you might be runnin’ from is so small,

But it’s as big as the promise, the promise of a coming day

 We were promised another day, but not at Notten’s, our promise was as big as Victoria Falls, which was our next destination.  The next morning we were off for Zimbabwe.

Next Monday: African Diary – Part 4   Victoria Falls and Out of Africa

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African Diary – Part 2 Cape Town

by Bob Sparrow (from Africa)

“It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey”

 Getting There

Whoever uttered the above quote never flew from Los Angeles to London, London to Johannesburg and Johannesburg to Cape Town on a journey that included 26 hours of flying and 17 hours of lay-overs.  I think I experienced a bending of the space-time continuum – I may have even spent some time in the Twilight Zone; I’m not sure where I was; I wasn’t even sure who I was.  All I know is I left Los Angeles at 5:00 Friday afternoon and arrived in Cape Town, South Africa at 3:30 Sunday afternoon.  Somebody owes me a Saturday!

Being There

12A

12 Apostles Hotel & Spa

I can’t remember the last time I stayed in a suite at a Five-Star hotel . . . OK, maybe never.  I can tell you it’s nothing like camping in the desert.  But when we checked into 5-Star The Twelve Apostles Hotel & Spa those long hours getting there just seemed to . . . nah, my back still hurt“The 12A” as it’s affectionately called, sits on the coast, by itself, between Cape Town and the Cape of Good Hope, and it is magnificent!  Our oceanfront suite allowed us to sit on our deck and watch the sun sink into the Atlantic – and all this time we Californians thought the sun always sank into the Pacific.  The facility, the location and particularly the staff, were marvelous.  With “The 12A” as our base, and with the help of our expert guide, Craig Ziman, we squeezed in as many ‘points of interest’ that we could in three days.

 Seeing There

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Table Mountain

Table Mountain – it’s a must to take the gondola to the top and spend some time checking out the spectacular views of the cape below from various points.  You can even repel down part of the way if you choose – I didn’t choose.  Cape Point – better known as the Cape of Good Hope, where the currents of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet was a bit disappointing in that you really couldn’t tell where the Atlantic Ocean left off and the Indian Ocean began – I suggested they should dye them different colors – I don’t think they were listening.

Ever stay up nights wondering exactly who fought in the Boar Wars?  We visited the Castle of Good Hope, which is filled with military memorabilia where you can find the answer to that question.  We visited a penguin beach, yep, penguins in South Africa, as well as the Waterfront (shopping and restaurants), Camps Bay (more shopping and more restaurants), the diamond district (guys, don’t let your wives go shopping there!), where we learned that most diamonds naturally come in . . . you guessed it, a diamond shape.  We also took a trip out to the wine area of South Africa, conveniently called The Winelands.  

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“Township”

Juxtaposed to the quaint, up-scale villages and elegant homes in The Winelands are the shanties, euphemistically called Townships, which line the freeway for miles leading back into Cape Town.  The shanties are a 10 x 10 foot room made from aluminum siding and plywood with no running water and public port-o-potties for bathrooms.  We were told that over one million people are living in such conditions.  Apartheid has ended and there are many wonderful sights here, but this is a clear sign that the complete development of South Africa is still a work-in-progress.

The Best Reason to Go

It’s about an hour’s boat ride from the Cape Town Waterfront District to Robben’s Island, where Nelson Mandela spent 18 of his 27 years of incarceration. The prisoner’s living quarters varied from one room jammed with 30-40 prisoners, to a single 8 x 8 cell, to something smaller, that were previously used as dog kennels.  Food was bad and sparse; prisoners were forced to work 8-10 hours a day in lime mines on the island and were often physically and mentally tortured for various reasons or for no reason at all.  Solitary confinement was worse.

Robben-Island

Robben Island cell

Our tour of the island’s prison was conducted by a former prisoner who talked about conditions in the prison.  He said, “They tried every way possible to beat us down, they torture us and treated us like animals, but in the evening we were able to gather together for about an hour or so and we would use that time to educate ourselves – there was a saying, ‘Each One, Teach One’ – that way those who could read taught others to read, those who knew math taught other to do math and so on.  The main thing we continued to reinforce with each other was that whatever they did to us, we were not going to let them break our spirit.  At night, if time and guards allowed, we would sing, we would dance, we would do little plays for ourselves – anything to keep our spirit alive – that was the most important thing, to keep our spirit alive.” 

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“African Spirit”

We came away from Robben’s Island amazed and inspired, but what we didn’t know was that we were about to experience that ‘spirit’ on our boat trip back to Cape Town.  We started our return trip sitting on benches on the outside deck of the boat, but as the sun went down it quickly cooled and we moved inside.  Soon after we came inside, a middle-aged black man stood up and started singing in a native language, other blacks, men and women, quickly joined in and although they didn’t all know each other, they all knew the song and each would either join in singing the melody, harmonies or a background beat – they sounded as if they’d been rehearsing this routine together for years.  It didn’t take long before all the black men and women were up singing and dancing in the aisles.  We few whites on board just stood, listened and watched in amazement.  The music was so infectious, I tried to join in, and with the help of the black gentleman standing next to me, I learned a couple of words and joined in the singing.  If my skin color didn’t give me away, my voice and my dance moves did; I soon realized what I should be doing is recording this – so I did.

As we prepare to move to the next phase of our journey, the safaris, we are amazed at all the wonderful things we saw in and around Cape Town, but what I will remember most are the people – their great smiles and wonderful dispositions.  I’m not sure how they do it, but I’m thinking it has something to do with that great ‘African Spirit’ that will not be broken.  Perhaps it is about the journey.

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Next: African Diary – Part 3  Game Drives

 

 

THE MIGRATION OF THE SNOWBIRD

 

SnowbirdBy Suzanne Sparrow Watson

 

Well, it’s that time of year again – the annual migration of the snowbirds has begun.  “Snowbirds” for those unfamiliar with the term, refer to all the people from colder climes that come here in the winter just so they can call home to their friends and brag that they’re not having to shovel sunshine.  There are so many people here from the Midwest that someone once said that the definition of diversity in Phoenix is when someone from Chicago moves in right next door to someone from Minneapolis.

 

A quick trip to the grocery store this morning made clear that the snowbirds are on the wane.  I did not have to swerve coming out of my neighborhood in order to miss some “high flying” snowbird with his top down, talking on a cell phone, and smoking a stogie.

 

Nor did I have to endure people turning left, no, then right, no, then left again because they didn’t have GPS in their car and can’t figure out our complicated street system.  (I will say that having streets that dead end and then pick up again three miles down the road is a tad bit confusing)car transport

 

And best of all, I breezed into the parking lot, found a space up close and was able to complete my shopping without having to stand in a long line of people stocking up on gin, cocktail napkins and sunscreen.  Rest assured, the most beautiful sight we see this time of year are all the car transport trucks heading out of town.

 

The bad part about the migration is that most of my friends are snowbirds.  They return this time of year to the mountains or the Midwest, carry on with their lives at home and leave the rest of us here to sweat out the summer.  Just as they have their unique moniker, those of us who stay here are affectionately known as the “summer sluts”.  At least I think that’s a term of affection.

 

In any event, last week a friend asked me if I actually looked forward to everyone leaving for the season.  Since she was “migrating” back to Chicago the next day, I did what I thought was right. I lied.  I told her it was awful here in the summer.  And, of course, I do miss my friends.  But the truth is, it’s kind of nice once everyone clears out.  We can get into any restaurant we choose at 7 p.m. on a Saturday night.  We can arrive 10 minutes before the opening of a blockbuster movie and still get a great seat.  Oh sure, you can fry an egg on the pavement in mid-August but  that’s a small price to pay to be the first in line at the Nordstrom Annual Pre-Season sale.

 

But the best reason to enjoy the snowbird migration?  No more dinner invitations.  We control our schedule – from now until November we will not be on a social merry-go-round.  We will only go out when we feel like it.  We will not have to get dressed up.  We can sit on our sofa, wearing Bermudas and a tank top, and download movies from Netflix.  We can munch on junk food.  We can drink beer and vodka tonics to keep cool.

 

Come to think of it, maybe I am a summer slut. white trash

African Diary – Part 1 It’s A Jungle Out There

by Bob Sparrow

Lion     I hear a low snorting sound just outside my tent . . . or was it inside?  I lay perfectly still and slowly open my eyes and furtively search the darkness for movement.  I hear rhythmic breathing and feel the warm breath of an animal on my face – or am I just imagining it?  As my eyes adjust to the darkness I see the rustling of the canvas tent next to me.  The snorting becomes louder, the breathing heavier. What’s out there . . . or in here?  My imagination is running wild.  We were forewarned that the ‘Big 5’ (Lion, Elephant, Cape Buffalo, Leopard and Rhinoceros) are curious animals and might wander into camp looking for food.  I wondered: Am I food?  I slowly rolled over to glance in the direction of the breathing . . . it was my wife.  I wake up in a cold sweat in my bed at home.

I’m headed to Africa this week, so my imagination may be turned up a few notches, but if you, like me, thought all the dangers were out in the African savanna, think again.  Like any good traveler I’ve been doing some research on points of interest that I’ll be seeing over the next couple of weeks and while I’ve learned what the ‘Big 5’ of African wildlife are, I’ve compiled my own ‘Big 2’ that I’ll be looking out for as well:

  1. Man
    1. S. Africa has one of the world’s highest rate of murders, assaults and rapes       
    2. Over 17 million people in sub-Saharan Africa have died of AIDS
    3. Around 50 people are murdered in South Africa every day
    4. Drivers                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

                                 i.  Cab drivers will scam you, rip you off, take you for a ride

                                 ii. Safari drivers have little to no regard for you back or kidneys

        2. Mosquitos – Every 30 seconds someone in Africa dies of malaria

mosquito    Sounds fun, doesn’t it?  Those at the South African Chamber of Commerce will tell you that all major cities around the world have high crime rates.  I looked up – New York, in the summer when crime is the highest, has about 50 murders a month.  But I know that if I stay away from the wrong people and wrong places in Africa I’ll be fine – as long as they stay away from me.  Here are the ‘Big 5’ ‘animals’ I’m going to try to avoid:

  1. The Robber
  2. The Mugger
  3. The AIDS carrier
  4. The Malaria-infested Mosquito
  5. The Cab Driver

Indeed, it is a jungle out there.  So why go to Africa, you ask?  It is a beautiful country with an incredibly rich history and lots of amazing animals – and I want to see where Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie get their kids.

All kidding aside (I really wasn’t kidding) below is the abbreviated itinerary for your Man-on-the-Savanna to bring you an up-close and personal look (from my warped perspective) at Africa.

 LAX to London

London to Johannesburg

Johannesburg to Cape Town (Finally!)

Cape Town site seeing (3 days)

Sabi Sand Game Reserve – (3 days)

Johannesburg – 1 day

Victoria Falls, Zembabwe (2 days)

Home

If any of my writing gets lost in translation it’s because there are over 2,000 languages spoken in Africa (This is one of many ‘interesting tidbits’ that I’ll be reporting back to you with).sardines

Signing off from LAX where I will be packed, sardine-like, into a metal tube floating through the sky for the next 26 hours.

 

THROUGH MY MOTHER’S EYES

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

2013-05-05 07.34.18Sunday is Mother’s Day and as you loyal readers know, our mother passed away earlier this year.  So this is the first Mother’s Day that we will not have a mother to send flowers, cards and well-wishes to.   Last year my brother Bob and his wife Linda sent mom such a beautiful arrangement of flowers that mom commented to me that it was the best gift she had ever received.   Which only cemented my hunch that she always liked him best.

As anyone who knew her could attest, she was a driven and opinionated woman.  No misplaced hair or wrinkled shirt went unnoticed – or commented upon.  She was the first to point out that we had gained a few pounds.   Mom took great pride in her appearance, always wearing a perfectly coordinated outfit, matching shoes and oftentimes donning a rather large hat.  Her children, by contrast, are big fans of what I like to refer to as “soft clothes”.  Anything that has an elastic waistband or has been washed to within an inch of its life is just great with us.   In other words, we sometimes look like we were raised by wolves – a trait that bothered her no end.

My differences with her were many; we just seemed to view the world from opposite perspectives.  This was never more apparent than when she bought a new pair of reading glasses several years ago.  By this time I was watching her finances and reviewing her cash flow every three months.  So when she told me she had spent $500 on a pair of Versace glasses (see picture above) I just about keeled over.  I knew that she was already running low on money and couldn’t believe her extravagance.  “Why in the heck would you spend that kind of money?” I shouted into the phone.  She explained that they had little diamonds in them and that she just wanted something from a top designer.  I was furious.  But not as furious as I was six months later when she lost them.

And just to demonstrate how seriously she took my financial advice, she promptly spent another $500 to buy the very same pair again.  I was flabbergasted.  Here was a woman who saved aluminum foil remnants and took home doggie bags that went stale in her refrigerator just because she couldn’t “waste good money” by leaving food at a restaurant.  I thought she had lost her mind.

Turns out, she had only lost her memory.  A few weeks after she bought the second pair of glasses she discovered the first pair in the lost and found drawer at her church.

After she died we were cleaning out her apartment and I noticed that her reading glasses were on the nightstand.  I tucked them into my purse for safekeeping – I’d be darned if I was going to throw away a $500 pair of glasses!  I thought they would be a good reminder of her foolish spending.  When I got home I put them on top of my closet dresser, where I see them every day.

A few weeks ago I looked at them (with my $18 Costco reading glasses) and noticed that quite a few of the diamonds are missing.  Her vision was so poor that I’m sure she was blissfully unaware of their current shabby condition.  I began to see the glasses in a different light.  Maybe they aren’t  a reminder of her foolish spending but rather that when I am old,  I might also make some choices that others think inappropriate.    Maybe when I’m old, I too will want just one extravagant thing that makes me feel good, even when I can’t afford it.  Maybe when I get older I will begin to see things through my mother’s eyes.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll even buy very expensive reading glasses – twice.

THE BACKYARD BLOG ABOUT NOTHING

by Bob Sparrow

nothing1I know I don’t always succeed, but I always try to write something entertaining about where I’ve been or where I’m going, as I love travel and I seem to look at things from a little different perspective than most others. Or I’ll write about some little, but hopefully interesting, observation of life. Sister Suzanne does a particularly great job of the latter – I mean really, she brought us to tears last week writing about taking her dog for a walk out to the end of her driveway. Me – not so much, as I said, I usually rely on ‘going somewhere’ and hoping to find something interesting to write about.

sb coast

Santa Barbara coast

Last week I was supposed to go on a camping trip along the Santa Barbara coast, exploring the beaches and cliffs of this beautiful area, but for various reasons that I’m sure you’re not interested in – heck, I’m not even that interested – the trip was cancelled. So there I was, ready to regale you with my adventurous treks along the beautiful Central Coast and now I’ve got nothing. Didn’t go anywhere. Didn’t see anything interesting. Nothing extraordinary happened to me. Didn’t discover any special or unique places. I’ve got nothing. Even though Seinfeld made a career out of it, it’s hard to write about nothing. Although some have said there’s a lot of nothing in many of my previous blogs.

pal2

Deck-side umbrella table and palapa

fireplace

Outside fireplace

So last weekend instead of camping in the Chumash Mountain Wilderness, I wandered around in my backyard. No, I didn’t camp there, although there have been occasions, when the kids were younger, when I’d pitch a tent on the back lawn, spend the night in it and be awakened in the morning by the sprinklers that I forgot to turn off. So, this week my ‘going somewhere’ turned out to be my backyard, and while I enjoy putzing around back there, I’m not finding anything of interest to write about this week. Unlike my sister’s backyard, which has Pinnacle Peak, I have no natural landmarks. I do however have some ‘man-made’ landmarks and so I wander around back there trying to find inspiration from them. I look past the pool deck umbrella table where no one is sitting to the palapa that no one is sitting under, and I get no inspiration . . . nothing. I check the ‘Tiki Bar’ to see if there are any stragglers left over from the weekend, perhaps with a good story to tell that would make for an interesting blog . . . nothing. I recently bought a new umbrella for our outside fireplace area, and although it’s nice, it’s hardly blog-worthy. I crank up some Jimmy Buffet music through the outside speakers hoping to get some inspiration from him . . . nothing. We bought this house new 28 years ago and the backyard was just dirt . . . nothing. And today in terms blog inspiration . . . nothing. I’m thinking maybe I should talk to some of the plants; perhaps they’ll talk back and give me something to write about. I bend down and put my ear to the hydrangeas . . . nothing.

bar

The Tiki Bar

plumeria

Plumeria

 

Behind the pool is what I called my ‘Ho’omana’O Honopua’, which loosely translate in Hawaiian to ‘Memorial Garden’. I love Hawaii, so my intent with this garden was to bring Hawaii to my backyard, so I wouldn’t have to pay airfare or expensive hotel rates to enjoy the sights and smell of palms and plumeria. I’ve told my family that I’d like my ashes under the moai (stone monoliths from Easter Island – a bucket list destination) on the right in the picture below. It is already a memorial garden in that when I returned from my best friend, Don Klapperich’s funeral, I purchased the moai on the left in the picture below and buried under it a shell casing from the rifles fired during the military memorial service.

memorial garden

Ho’ Omana ‘ o Honopua

It’s getting dark and there will be no lights turned on in the backyard tonight, no tiki torches lit, no music playing, no adult beverages consumed; there will be, like this blog . . . nothing.

 

THERE’S JOY AROUND THE CORNER

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

autismYou know that it’s an odd news week when the death of 14 people in an industrial explosion is relegated to page eight.  Or when a ricin-laced letter to the President generates all the excitement of an AARP renewal notice.  The story about catching the person who killed the district attorney down in Texas was a footnote.  But the real indicator that we were in a serious news cycle was the Kim Kardashian-Kris Humphries divorce was only of interest to the supermarket tabs.

No, last week we were all focused on the horrible terrorist act in Boston – the deaths, the injuries, the perpetrators and the heroes.  The story was all-encompassing and riveting.  For much of the week it was sad and worrisome.  I heard more than one person lament that our world just isn’t the same.  Friends of a “certain age” talked about how their grandchildren would never know a life where they didn’t have to worry about terrorists, bombs and taking their shoes off before a flight.

I, too, was in this frame of mind last week as I set off on my daily walk with Dash.  Since he’s still a puppy we usually just go around the corner and back.  And frankly, I’m being generous when I use the term “walk” – it’s more that he stops and sniffs everything while I check emails on the phone.  But on this particular walk we saw a car parked at the end of a driveway with a mom and her son. We had seen them before on our walks and always gave them a little wave.  But last week as we passed, the mom rolled down the passenger side window and the little boy stuck his head out to greet us.

Dash and I walked over to their car.  It turns out that the boy (who for purposes of this essay we’ll call “Sam”), is severely autistic.  He had a tussle of curly hair and a big smile.  I spoke with his mom a bit – she was cheerful and patient with Sam as he wiggled in his seat.  I was reminded of the saying that God only gives us what we can handle.  This woman has been given a lot to handle and seemingly does so with an abundance of grace.

I picked Dash up so that Sam could see and pet him.  Dash, as is his wont, stuck his tongue out in an effort to barrage Sam with kisses.  Sam, not able to communicate well, did what seemed logical – he stuck his tongue out at Dash.  The two of them nuzzled in a frenzy of excitement – Dash frantically wagging his tail and Sam giggling at Dash’s kisses. At that moment I realized I was witnessing  joy in its purest sense.  Neither of them could talk; neither of them had to.

A few moments later the school bus pulled up and out stepped the driver, Jim, and his wife/assistant, Janetta.  They were straight out of Central Casting.  He was tall and lanky with an easy smile.  She was caring and sweet.  They greeted us and then went about the business of getting Sam onto the bus.  Janetta told Sam how nice his hair looked while Jim tenderly helped him up the steps.  Once Sam was settled in his seat, Janetta nestled in right next to him.  As they pulled away Jim gave us a big wave out the window.  It felt like something I would have witnessed as a kid in my small town.

So as Dash and I turned for home I felt more content than I had all week.   I knew that when I got home the news on TV might still be stressful but I had just been reminded that there are far more good people than bad in this world.  There are people who are heroic every day.  There is joy to be found every day. And sometimes it’s just around the corner.

FINDING ‘HOTEL CALIFORNIA’

by Bob Sparrow 

Eages

The Eagles

I recently watched a documentary on my favorite band, ‘History of the Eagles’ on the Showtime Channel. If you’re an Eagles’ fan this is a must see; even if you’re not, it’s still great music history.  So the first week of April as we headed out to Palm Desert for our 19th year of enjoying our timeshare, I was mixing my metaphors, dangling my modifiers and juxtaposing the reminiscing of the Eagles documentary and the looking forward to my hedonistic week in the lush environs of Palm Desert.  It created a strange concoction in my head – I present it forthwith.

                                                On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair

                                                Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air 

For the uninitiated, colitas is the small, sweet buds at the end of the cannabis plant that makes for what was colloquially known in the ‘70s as ‘good shit’.  This week we’ll enjoy the sweet smell of a good cabernet.

So I called up the captain, please bring me my wine

He said we haven’t had that spirit here since 1969

Hotel2

Marriott Desert Springs Hotel

It’s hard to think of the Eagles and not think of their biggest hit, ‘Hotel California’.  There have been many interpretations of the meaning of the lyrics of that song, the most common is that it’s an interpretation of the high life in Los Angeles.  So this week I’m loosely translating it to represent my decedent week in the desert where we eat at great restaurants, drink expensive wine and play luxurious golf courses.  Because it combines Life in the Fast Lane and a Peaceful Easy Feeling, I have concluded that the Marriott Desert Springs Hotel is my ‘Hotel California’.  The lyrics echoed in my head . . .

                                                                                                              Welcome to the Hotel California

                                                                                                          Such a lovely place, such a lovely face

                                                                                                        Plenty of room at the Hotel California

Any time of year, you can find it here.

Marriott mirror Yes, you can find it there in Palm Desert, but you may not want to find it ‘any time of year’; in the summer it’s not such a ‘lovely place’, but in early spring – awesome!

One of the great features of this timeshare is that it’s an hour and half’s drive from home; so no airports, delayed flights, missed connections or airplane food; and yet once you’re there you feel like you’re in a whole different world – perhaps because you are.

Some dance to remember

Some dance to forget

And there are some of us that have just forgotten how to dance altogether, but the images dancing in my head of desert nights, desert skies, desert flowers, desert sunsets silhouetting Mt. San Jacinto in the distance and billion stars in the sky are simply magnificent.

Relax said the nightman, you are programed to receive,

You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave

Actually check-out is by 11:00 a.m. or you’re subject to late fees, but after a week of ‘Desert Decadence’, it’s time to go home.Hole #2

Hotel California ends with, if not the greatest, one of the greatest guitar riffs in rock and roll history, I’ll conclude with:

  1.  Find your Hotel California – ideally a few hours drive from your home, but in a totally different       world
  2. Listen to some Eagles music, if you don’t have any, GET SOME!
  3. Enjoy a week of indulgence; you’ve earned it . . . probably

Back home and the lyrics that are now echoing in my head are: My diet starts Monday!

 

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