Vampires in New Orleans

Vampires are everywhere in New Orleans.

Long before anyone ever sank their teeth into an Ann Rice novel about the vampire Lestat and his undead posse, New Orleans has had strange happenings. I mean walking the streets of New Orleans you can feel the undercurrent of the occult and the supernatural. This is a city where the living and the dead co-exist on the same plane. This is a city where you can imagine pirates, voodoo priestesses and vampires all having a sazrac together in a dark alley bar.

With that in mind, I went on the New Orleans vampire tour. We met at the assigned time in front of Jackson Square. The night was dark, chilly with that damp Winter-in-New-Orleans rain that is constantly there, leaving you perpetually damp. In short, the perfect weather for a vampire tour. Our guide showed up - all 6'4" of him in full goth regalia - black coat, cape, long ponytail and big black umbrella. This was going to be a fun evening.

Our guide, Jonathan. Looking very Gothic. How does he know so much? Could he be one of the undead?

The stories were great, as was the storyteller. Stories of suspense and crime, like the one about John and Wayne Carter, two working brothers who worked all day at the shipyards. Coming home to their third floor apartment in the French Quarter. Being very quiet (arent they always the quiet ones?) One day a girl ran down to the police, saying she had escaped the Carters' apartment. She had cuts on her wrists. The police came to their apartment and found 4 others tied to chairs with their wrists sliced in the same fashion also. Some had been there for many days. The story was that both of these brothers had abducted each of them and would drink their blood at the end of every day when they came home from work. They also found about 14 other dead bodies. The cops waited that night for the return of the brothers and when they did, it took 7 to 8 of them to hold down these two averaged size men who had been doing manual labor all day. The brothers were executed and buried. A year later their graves revealed empty vaults. To this day, the brothers are sighted flying off the balcony on their third floor apartment.

Or the stories of the old Urseline convent where, of all things, french prostitutes lived. The convent was supposed to shelter these women sent to New Orleans to have sex with the dock workers, but there were too little of them and were sent to live in the convent. But if these girls were the only ones in the convent? Why are there steel bolts on all the windows? Still? To this day? And why were two innocent girls filming a documentary on the convent found dead on the convent steps drained of all blood with their cameras smashed to pieces?

Two girls were found dead and drained of blood - are these orbs their spirits?

The tour also includes some great New Orleans legends about pirates, ghosts, the plague and general gruesomeness. It stops at John LeFette's blacksmith shop (now a haunted bar with no electric lights) for a cocktail before a tour of some sites of the filming of Interview with the Vampire and a suggestion from Jonathan our guide - want to make sure a vampire doesn't follow you home tonight? Tip him!

The Florida Everglades - Tamiami Trail Edition

I love to go away to see different eco systems and wildlife, but let's not forget the wildlife on our own backyard - the Florida Everglades.

Everglades National Park Everglades National Park, the largest subtropical wilderness in the United States, boasts rare and endangered species. It has been designated a World Heritage Site, International Biosphere Reserve, and Wetland of International Importance. In a nutshell, it totally rocks - where else can you hike around and be about two feet from an alligator with nothing between the two of you but a sign that is a man feeding a gator with a big red slash across it? Gotta love it!

Admission to Everglades National Park is about $10 but an annual pass is a great deal at $25. I especially like Shark Valley - about a 45 minute drive from Miami Beach - just head west on Tamiami Trail. Shark Valley has a 15 mile paved loop to bike or walk with an observation deck at the halfway point. Bring a camera, because alligators, frigates, hawks, egrets and other species of birds are commonly found. Shark Valley also has an interpretive guide program, a small gift shop, bicycle rentals and a tram tour that will take you through the loop with a guide.

Just across from the Shark Valley entrance is the Miccosukee Restaurant where you can get breakfast or lunch, including a totally rich pumpkin bread served warm that's more like a giant pumpkin pancake.

Still in the everglades, but not in the national parklands are the roadside attractions and airboat rides. I prefer the ones run by Miccosukees but any airboat is worth a try - loud and crazy a pure Everglades tradition.

Further up Tamiami Trail lies the Big Cypress preserve, start of the Florida Trail, which offers miles of hiking. We've spotted wild turkeys, deer and many panther tracks (alas no panthers yet). The hiking is non-technical, but can be wet during rainy season. Remember to watch your footing, keep an isle on the trail blazes, bring water and wear insect repellent.

All in all, The Florida Everglades offers a wild experience without the plane ticket.

Trying to Describe Kenya

Breathtaking sunset, Nanyuki, Kenya

The other day I tried to describe Kenya to someone and I was kind of at a loss. How do you describe living a dream, a fantasy to someone? I've travelled to a lot of major cities and to a lot of places in this world, but I have never been in jaw-dropping awe of someplace every moment I was there before.

I always dreamed of Kenya. Born Free was on the television - perhaps the Wide World of Disney on Sunday? I had to have been no more than three or four. What I saw made me obsessed with lions and Kenya for decades after. I can't tell you why I never took a job travelling or just backpacked for a few years. I took the responsible job route and have lived to regret it.

But I had the opportunity to travel to Kenya last year on my honeymoon. For most women the wedding was the high point - to be honest I wanted to get that over with so we could be on a plane for our short (NOT) 2 day trip to Kenya.

Arriving in Kenya was easy. We waited on line for really less than an hour to get entry into the country. We got our Visas right at the airport. I remember having our passport stamped with Kenya on it - such excitement!

We had a driver waiting for us since we had just missed the flight to Amboselli and had to take a minivan the four hour trip. Directly out of the airport - right in Nairobi - we saw our first giraffe. A giraffe! In the wild! After about 2 hours driving we stopped to get a soda and some gas and then took our turn off the main road and into Masailand. We passed the local Maasai market where everything from cloth to fruit to goats were traded. And then the land opened up. It just literally opened up to the biggest sky I've ever seen. The air was dry and thin. The sky was bigger, bluer, more three dimensional than I've ever seen it. It was like when Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz lands in Oz and black and white turns to technicolor. The land and the air smelled too - a good smell of dryness, dirt and faint animal smells. What I remember noting is that everything was so dry. Kenya isn't a jungle - it's a savanna and the colors are green and gold and red and brown.

Young elephant in Amboselli

As we drove to our first camp, our driver picked up and dropped off various people - Maasai tribesmen getting a lift in their day. I remember looking at us in our khakhis and our beige clothing with our beige skin and looking at them - with their dark brown skin nd their red robes and tons of beadwork bracelets, belts, necklaces, earrings that would make any woman jealous. Every safari book admonished us to get a wardrobe of beige and khaki. This helps camouflage you to the animals. What a crock - our guides were as colorful as peacocks! And far more beautiful. I look at our pictures and compare their color to our blandness and I laugh!

On safari

We stayed at Porini Ecocamps - totally solar powered, they sit on conservancies. We went to a Maasai village and I remember the people - how we as Americans would think of them as "poor" or "in need of help". These people need nothing from us. They are rich in culture, in family, in beauty, in livestock and in land. They have natural remedies for everything from coughs to bug bites to animal scratches. They are far wiser than us. And they do go to school. In fact a lot of the people we met go to university in Nairobi and come back to live in their villages. Culture and tradition is important to them and they strive to not lose that. The only thing they would like from us is for us to come to Kenya so that they can earn an honest wage as a cook or a driver or a guide.

Beautiful Maasai Girl

But I haven't spoken about the animals. The only thing I can say is that to see these animals that we've all seen in pictures and in zoos here...in person...living, running, playing, having babies and even dying is a gift that I will cherish forever. Now more than ever I feel the need to protect nature and wildlife.

In our travels throughout the country, we saw elephants nurturing and protecting the smallest possibly newborn elephant I've ever seen. We saw a pride of lions on a hunt at night - their calls so deep that the ground shakes. We saw two male lions - brothers - one healthy and robust, the other bony and sickly. The healthy one will stay with the sick brother, making sure he is fed, making sure he is not attacked. He will stay with this brother until the brother is well or dies. He will stay even if it means his death.

small lion, big world

We saw Mt. Kenya's snow capped peak and the Abadare mountain range. We saw lions nursing their cubs. We saw warthog families runnin, teeny babies in tow with their tails straight in the air, like flags waving. We saw a cheetah mother teach her cubs to hunt and a zebra separated from her herd - limping, knowing she probably wouldn't make it through the night.

And we saw death. We saw an elephant that died stuck in a mudhole. We saw the carcass of a wildebeest that had died while still running - the body eternally in a run position. We saw an antelope carcass in a tree, it's horns hooked onto a branch. Placed there by a leopard so she could come back and finish her meal.

Eat or be eaten - first rule.

But we mostly saw life. Life in every form. The struggle to say alive, be it hunter or prey. The life in Kenya's people - full of pride and laughter.

They say Kenya and the Great Rift Valley is the origin of mankind, perhaps the origin of all living beings. Being there that's easy to believe. The land, the very air is alive and she sings a song. It's a song of freedom. It's a song of coming home. And that's the only way I can describe Africa - for all her strangeness and differentness to the United States - it's like coming home.

SoBe Tourist for a Day

Once in a while I decide to be a tourist in my town. I live in South Beach, Florida, but not only do I live there, I live in THE touristy part of South Beach. My condo is actually the only residential building in the neighborhood. In fact, I can't purchase a parking pass to park on the street because our building is in a non-residential zone.

When I walk my dogs in the morning and the evening, I feel like the local concierge. I guess that someone with dogs is a dead giveaway for someone that is a local and since I'm walking said pups smack dab across the street from The Shore Club and the Setai Hotels. So I make restaurant recommendations, suggest activities and provide directions (Lincoln Road is three blocks this way. The beach is right behind you).

So when I woke up this morning I decided my husband and I would be tourists for a day. We would do everything that the tourists get to enjoy and us locals never get around to doing. We started out by walking to Lincoln Road and stopping by Pasha's to have a little breakfast. I had the Mediterranean Breakfast and lemonade and Jack had an eggsellent wrap with spicy harissa sauce. The food was light but satisfying. Fortified, we walked to the beach for a nice beach walk. We then went back to our hotel (the lovely ocean view chez Doss better known as our apartment) and changed for the rest of the day. We then walked over to the Holocaust Memorial which was very disturbing and powerful. We then lightened up and reflected on nature's beauty at the next door Miami Beach Botanical Gardens.


Lizard rests in statue's crotch at Miami Beach Botanical Garden

Walking back toward Lincoln Road, we decided to go on a Duck Tour. The Duck Tour is a truck and boat in one. It's about a 90 minute tour that takes you to places like where Scarface was filmed, Gloria Estefan's house and tell some good stories about Miami.

We then shared a pizza at Spris during their Beat The Clock time - between 5:30 and 7:00 you have a choice of three pizzas where the price you pay is what time the order goes to the kitchen - so we paid $5.45 for a Pizza. We also shared the most fabulous spinch salad with corn and shaved Parmesan cheese.

We decided to take in a mov-ay and went to the Lincoln Center Regal Cinemas where we bought tickets for "The September Issue". With some time to spare, we did some shopping at The Gap, Macy's and Pottery Barn and took advantage of Doraku Sushi's Happy Hour (Lychee Martinis are delicious).

We then saw the movie which was great. We walked back on Lincoln Road and stopped at Zeke's Roadhouse for a cold beer at the bar ($4 for any of over 400 international brands. I had a Tusker from Kenya).

Finishing the night by people watching on the way home, we were reminded of what a great city South Beach is for tourists - even if the tourists live here.

Hunting for Hauntings

Ghost Orb photographed in Churchyard in Key West

I believe in ghosts. My apartment in Jersey City was haunted and I worked in a haunted bar in Ft. Lauderdale a million years back (on Commercial Blvd, it was a haunted country-western, lesbian sports bar named Our Playhouse to be exact).

I believe in ghosts because I've seen or heard them or have had people I know see or hear them. First person encounters tend to make you believe. And I believe in the most tourist-trappy of all tours - the Ghost Tour!

For those of you that don't believe in ghosts - how about a good story? I think believers and non-believers alike can all agree on liking a good story that's well told. Let's up the ante. How about a good ghost story? I'll see your ghost story and raise you.....what about if there are actually ghosts present? Jackpot!

One of my favorite ghost towns is Key West. You just feel the place is haunted. I mean ya got a small island that has a history of Indians, Bahamians, Pirates, Artists, Drunks, Eccentrics all in a lucious simmering stew of hurricanes, malaria, murders, drownings and shipwrecks.

Ghost Tour Guide Giving the Rules - You might be touched.....Be open...

The tours are chock filled with stories like the story of Robert the Doll, an enchanted doll made for a little boy by his nanny. Cute story? Not so cute when said nanny alledgedly had an affair with the little boy's dad, had a child by him who mysteriously died and was fired by the wife. the doll has a "soul stone" sewn into it, thus making the lifesized doll enchanted with a voodoo spell...The legend of Robert the Doll is still alive and well. You can visit Robert the Doll at the East Mortello Museum (itseld kinda haunted). Ask his permission before you snap a pic because the walls of the museum are filled with letters to Robert from visitors who didn't ask his permission and lived to regret it.

Robert the Doll messed up my camera and wouldn't let me buy a Pepsi.

Another good haunt is the church turned theatre turned abandoned building where a group of children and their Sunday School teacher were burned alive by the Church's Pastor. The Pastor also happened to be the Schoolmarm's husband and he thought she was cheating on him. So he burned her and the kids alive. If you put your ear to the glass doors you can hear tapping back from little hands. And the scent in the air? That sweet smell of roasting? That's the flesh of the children burning. I myself was pushed by phantom hands there and my husband (a skeptic) said aloud "If your're in there show me". At that point lights went on in the abandoned theatre. He's not so skeptical now.

Haunted Theatre where children died. Do you see a ghost?

Churchyard where the children were buried.

My favorite ghost that I search for is of course, Pappa Hemingway. It's said that Ernest Hemingway roams Key West on his birthday. I've yet to see him, but I would love to. I do have a drink (or two or three or five) in his honor for his birthday every year. Hey - it's my birthday too!

And of course, there's the cemetery in Key West. Located in "dead" center of town on Passover Lane, the cemetery is not open at night, but still a great place to go in the daytime. This is the place where the dead have a sense of humor - like in the gravestone that says "I told you I was sick". Gotta love it.

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Key West Cemetery on "Passover" Lane. Anyone home?

Some may think that touring cemeteries and looking for ghosts is morbid. I beg to differ. I'm the first to tell you that I am scared to death of death. I think we all are to some degree - the ultimate unknown has to bring fear to everyone. Looking for ghosts can maybe give us some answers to the questions we all have, possibly some comfort in knowing that this life is not all there is in the universe and at the very least....some really good stories.

Boo-Yah!

Finding Nature in New York City

I was born and bred in NYC. It pretty much defines me as a person - if I have to describe myself I would say New Yorker, animal lover, runner and everything else (all the way down to procrastinator and possible slacker)....I remember the New York of my childhood not being very green. Yes there was central Park abd Prospect Park but I don't think they were very safe in the 70's - or at least that's the impression I got growing up (and I think that was the time of NY's lowest period when it was actually unsafe to go to a park)...

I remember my parents driving me to see trees and forests - day trips out to the Island, upstate NY (Sterling Forest, Bear Mountain), and New Jersey come to mind. Hours spent driving well worth the drive to catch sight of a bird, a few bees or maybe a deer - I cdidn't care - I lived in Brooklyn where the only wildlife were the stray cats that I fed each day.

So it was with a new fascination that this weekend trip to NY to run the NYC half marathon turned into a micro safari of NYC green spaces - and oh what a difference a few decades make!

My friend Tobey and I woke up bright and early on saturday to grab a bagel and head up to the NYRRC, located on 89th and Fifth. Afterward, we decided to walk through Central Park, grab tickets for Shakespeare in the Park that evening and head onward for lunch. We stopped at the Shakespeare Garden - mostly because we were drawn in by the smell of flowers. Bees were getting drunk off of pollen - their little fat bodies full of the yellow grit. Pinks, oranges, purples - all the colors of the rainbow were there in a blaze of hues. We then walked to the Belvedere castle and turtle pond where we were greeted by - turtles! Strolling off the beaten path we encountered, dragonflies, squirrels, robins and waterfalls - was this Central Park? Beautiful!

Then next day after the half marathon we strolled over to the Highline. The Highline is about 10 blocks of old elvevated train tracks that were rusting and overgrown. A partnership was formed to turn this into yet another greenspace for the city and again we relished the warm air and the wildness of the daisies and vines that appeared wild and free amongst the brand new concrete paths still being laid and perfected.

I rounded out my experience at The Cloisters up in Ft. Tryon Park at the northern tip of Manhattan. Can I tell you that I had never been there - if I had I would have remembered it. The Cloisters are medieveal cloisters that the Rockefellers had shipped stone by stone to New York and reassembeled on the cliffs of upper Manhattan - such hubris! Such a blatant display of uber-wealth! Such genius! I have to say I'm not a museum person - I feel constrained - don't touch, don't speak...but walking through the gardens with little monk music piped in while I watched the bees and the trees and the gentle breezes was intoxicating!

Then as if this weren't enough, my friend Tobey and I topped my last evening in NY with a picnic in Central Park that evening along with a summer outdoor showing of the Sex and the City movie. Again - nature stepped in - well, more like pounced. She unleashed a microburst storm that actually demolished over 200 trees within that 30 minute freak storm. We certainly were intimately aware of nature that evening.

I love NYC - and what I love best is that even in the largest city in the world you can still find green (and I don't mean the Wall Street variety).

Latte Oasis

Jack and I had spent the last five days in the Kenyan Bush. Sleeping in tents, walking with Maasai, following cheetah tracks. This was the adventure I had always dreamed of – everything was perfect – a dream come true. Good simple food made with love, a gin and tonic at sunset, watching elephant families turn to tiny dark specks on the horizon, the sharing of two different cultures over a good fire. Abundant game to watch over the endless Kenyan savannah. Perfect, and yet…..my addiction started kicking in…Even though there was good strong Kenyan coffee every morning and afternoon tea, british style with cream and sugar, I couldn’t help jonesing for a latte. Damn you, Starbucks – your siren song encroaches even in the middle of my Out of Africa fantasy. I mentioned this nagging sensation for frothy milk to Jack- he looks at me like I’m a complete and total nutbag and says “no Starbucks here, my love” with a hint of glee in his eyes. Sometimes I think he would rather be married to a raging herion addict than the starbucks beast that he just legally attached himself to (hey a girl has her flaws – at least I use deodorant and shave my legs)…
I try to quell this latte fever by drinking lots of coffee. We are getting ready to fly to the Masai Mara this morning – it’s a two hour drive to the airstrip where we will get the prop plane to the Mara. We get to the airstrip and are told that our plane is having some mechanical difficulties and we have to wait for the afternoon flight…would we like to wait at the café? Café? Café? Did I hear….cafe?
Well shut my mouth – at this particular airstrip in Nanyuki, Kenya on the Equator there is a coffee bar and café named Barnie’s – respendent reggae music wafting from speakers and an entire menu of coffee drinks. Turns out that the British Royal Airforce has a location on the other side of the airstrip so this little Nanyuki airport is quite a busy hub. I order a latte and savor each rich frothy delictible sip. Ahhh….sometimes the Oasis comes to you….

The Perfect Sunset

I was going through some pictures today and I've found that, as many of us probably do, I have a huge amount of sunset shots. I have sunsets over Miami, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Kenya, Orlando, New Orleans, Bermuda, The Bahamas and more. I have good sunsets and not so good. Sunsets with people silhouetted in the foreground and sunsets with giraffe and elephant silhouetted in the foreground.

I have sunsets that are green and sunsets that are blueish. I have purple, red, yellow and orange sunsets. I even have video of the sun going down into the horizon from Mallory Square in Key West and from atop a hillside in Nanyuki, Kenya with Mt. Kenya in the distance.

What is my (our) fascination with sunsets? Well, I'll tell you my theory. As much as I hate to think that I might not be immortal, I might not be. There is the distinct possibility that we have only a finite time on this planet and that the time that we think is so abundant really is limited. We all get sooooo busy - working, going to the grocery store, paying bills, commuting. I suspect that there's not a place on this earth where people don't get caught up in the minutia that is day to day living - caring for children, spouses, pets.....working at jobs that are either unfulfilling or too stimulating - doesn't matter what we do - we're usually too busy to stop and look at the incredible miracles that happen around us every day.

So when we do have the chance to go somewhere and look at the sky turn yellow and purple and pink. We hope the conditions are perfect (there's no rain or tall person with a hat in front of you or loud screaming drunk or child ruining the moment). And we have a moment to stop and breathe and look and take it in.....
A sunset is the oldest and simplest miracle on earth - Ancient Egyptian Priests prayed each sunset to the Sun God Ra to bring back the sun the next day. The ancient Romans built temples to sun worshipers. The Aztec and Mayans worshiped the sun. There is something so primal, so natural about looking at the sunset.

A picture that no human could replicate is painted by nature each and every day. And maybe there is some primal instinctual fear in our darkest lizard brain that this could possibly be the last sunset we will ever see that makes us stop in our tracks and watch. And hope this sunset that we're witnessing is pink and orange and red and yellow.....the perfect sunset. The one to go on.

The Monkey Doctor and the Fancy Hotel

When we were in Nicaragua, we stayed in quaint little haciendas and bed and breakfasts. Each one was small and cozy with good food and cold drinks - everything you could want and nothing that you didn't need - just the way it should be. Jack and I tend to shy away from the large chains - I mean when you stay at the large chains you forget where you are in the world and why you're there - Jamaica turns into Cancun which turns into Costa Rica which turns into Miami which turns into Orlando - same towels, same pool with "yellow bird" being piped in, same, same, same. I think the entire purpose of going to another country is to really immerse yourself in the local ways - to eat in local roadside stands, to stay at a local b&b, to meet the people and to give money directly to the community instead of the Hilton family....

But, I did hear about this really cool hotel in San Juan Del Sur in Nicaragua - a hotel set into a hillside, each room resembling a cave. Not a chain but a "western" hotel with lots of pools, bars, etc. So our last night in Nicaragua, after spending time on Ometepe Island with giant spiders, howler monkeys, cows, thousands of frogs and one very poisonous coral snake we decided to travel to the "touristy" town of San Juan Del Sur and stay at the Pelican Eyes hotel.

Nicaragua surprised me on many levels - it charmed the living daylights out of me - and the roads for the most part were smooth and well signed. Until we turned off for San Juan Del Sur. We turn off the beautiful Pan American Highway at the sign for San Juan Del Sur - 50km. Well, that's close....not! The roads were nothing short of red clay and rocks just large enough to break the axle on a rental car. After what seemed like forever on this really dusty hot road, we stopped at the ice cream man (see picture of the ice cream man and his ice cream bike). and had a delicious cold treat.

We finally get to San Juan Del Sur and the Pelican Eyes Hotel. Beautiful hotel set into a hillside cliff with the most amazing vistas of the bay of San Juan Del Sur and the Pacific Ocean. We get the keys to our hacienda - which is beautiful. What is disturbing, though, is that directly in front of out door there are some little howler monkeys on harnesses. Further investigation shows me a little boar in a cage, some chickens and some ducks. Animals in cages? A mini zoo? I run to the front desk to confront these people - if they have monkeys for the benefit of tourists I am so outta there! So the woman at the front desk see this American hellcat in front of her as I confront her about the monkeys. Yes - that is our rehab facility, she replies. For our veterinarian. Would you like a tour of our animal hospital? That shuts me up as I nod yes.

I am escorted down some rock steps to what I would like to refer to as "my waking dream" - kittens and chickens and monkeys. Dogs and birds lying together, walking around, healing. I am greeted by an volunteer who shows me around. I spend the day there and the following day I am introduced to Maya. Maya is a six month old howler monkey orphan. She will be raised by hand and loved until she is about two or three, when she is sexually mature. She will then be released to have her own life and family back in the wild. Male monkeys, however, cannot be released - they would be ganged up on - hence the monkeys on the property.

The Stones and Waves clinic is unique in that this beautiful hotel funds part of the operation and gives them much needed property. What a wonderful idea. In countries like Nicaragua, animals are not treated kindly. Like the story of one of the monkeys on the property that almost had his arms and legs macheted off by a drunk. Or the stories of boys throwing rocks at monkeys for fun. Or the poisoning of cats and dogs. The vet at Stones and Waves is not rich, In fact he joked that he's still paying off his student loans - and he's middle aged. What a wonderful man. What a wonderful place.

I still think about beautiful Maya - her baby breath that smelled of banana and mango. Her teeny little hands touching my ear and her little tail wrapped around my neck as she fell asleep on my shoulder. I think about this perfect little creature and how there are people in the world that would want to harm her. But there are also good, good people who would give up a big house, a new car every few years and creature comforts to live in a poor country to help save her and her kind. I think of Maya, who by my calculations should be ready to be free to make her own monkey babies in the Winter of 2009. And I think that one day, as she plays with and grooms her own sweet baby monkey, she will tell her child about people and how some of them can be good.

Please visit http://www.piedrasyolas.com/swvc_eng.htm for more information on this wonderful clinic and to donate much needed money to their efforts to build a new monkey enclosure for the monkeys that are rehabilitating and those that cannot be released into the wild again.

Zebra on the Runway

On our trip from Nanyuki to the Masai Mara, our little airplane was grounded due to mechanical problems. This happens all the time everywhere (I should know - I'm married to a pilot). So our short 45 minute flight to the Mara turned into an air odyssey around Kenya.

We took off from Nanyuki to Samburu Intrepids and then Samburu proper. Two stops on two airstrips. Just fascinating to watch - flying into the Abadares, watching the rather forest like Nanyuki turn to desert by air, flying so low that you could see the ancient volcano craters, long extinct, turn to green velvety valleys. Giraffe and elephant turned to toys, marching across the plains.

From North (Samburu) we headed back to Nairobi where we had a few hour layover and were treated to lunch for our troubles at the Safarilink lunch counter (a delicious curry vegetable plate and mango juice, thank you very much..). I tried my best to turn into ugly American Tourist and raise hell that our entire day was shot....but I absolutely could not be angry with anyone in Kenya - the people are so gracious, so polite, so well mannered at the airport. They apologized first, sent cars for us, changed our return flight to the afternoon so we would have a day on the back end and offered me a coke light so how in the world could I ever be angry? Nope. Life is good, I am in Kenya, I am surprisingly happy for a long layover and several hundred miles of travel north to go south....

We finally make it to the plan to the Mara. This, of course, entails another four stops before our airstrip. We take off and head for the Lake Navaisha area. We fly over the Kibera slum in Nairobi - tin roofed shacks after tin roofed shacks..then the well manicured lawns and English gardens of Karen - the home of Karen Blixen of Out of Africa fame. Out of the Nairobi airspace we enter the Great Rift Valley - home of some of the most important discoveries of the origins of man. Indeed, this really looks like where the origins of mankind should be. In fact, it's strange but setting foot on African soil, you feel some primeval force telling you you are home. Call it your molecular cells remembering the air, the smell, the way the sun shines on this enormous land stretching out to forever, but you do feel like you have come home. Go to Africa and experience this yourself.

We pass more extinct craters, hills and lush green valley. More beautiful than can be imagined is this land. Coming upon Lake Navaisha - a beautiful lake, actually smaller than my imagination of it. We make a final approach and there it is - a freaking ZEBRA trots on the runway just as we are getting ready to touch down! Now I have the dual fortune and misfortune to be married to a pilot - because when he's calm I know everything is good - but then again if he even so much as flinches and lets down his "captain" guard for a nanosecond, I know we're screwed - and Jack flinched and pulled up on the imaginary yoke - just as the pilot flying this prop plane did the same thing - causing luggage to fly, people to be jostled and plane to go straight up to avoid messy and bad head on collision with said Zebra! Whoa - I'll say one thing about the US - we have no Zebra hazards on our runways.

We approach for another landing, this time Zebra free and drop off a British honeymoon couple, take off quickly (before the Zebras come back - they're watching at a safe but close distance just off the runway - perhaps there are some delicious plants growing off the runway but clearly they're waiting to reclaim their spot on the dirt runway.

Back in the air(Zebra free) , we head for the Mara, Porini Lion Camp and LIONS!!!!


Never have I seen anything that just makes me hang my jaw down stunned and floored by the sheer beauty as I have in Kenya. Can you fall instantly, hopelessly, in love with a land that you've only know in your dreams? Yes, but only if the reality meets your incredibly high expectations. The expectations of a child dreaming of wild animals and endless vistas. Kenya not only exceeded my expectations, but brought me right back to that little girl who dreamed of meeting Elsa the Lioness. I am now, and forever will be, in love with Kenya.

Key West - The City at the End of the Country

I LOVE KEY WEST. I love driving to Key West. I love the freedom I feel every time the Florida Turnpike ends and I start the drive south and west on the Overseas Highway. Key West is everything that Miami lacks. Let me first say that I do like Miami. I don't love it because how can you love something that really has no soul and no identity? Miami and Miami Beach are the supermodel of cities - heartbreakingly beautiful, put together, lovely to look at, wonderful for a one night stand but try to talk to her about art, or culture.....and.....? Yeah. I know that Miami is really trying to have a great art and culture scene. I give props to my friends who work hard at having Miami being taken seriously as a cultural capital but after all the galleries, the concerts, the happenings - Miami Social comes along and kills any good press with a swipe of a perfectly french manicured fingernail.

But enough of Miami....I want to talk about Key West. Strangely enough, a lot of my South Florida acquaintances think Key West or the Keys, for that matter, is really a euphemism for the Tiki bar in Islamorada - NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!!!!!! Stop! The Keys and Key West is so much more than that! Let me explain.

For me, the drive on the Overseas Highway is nothing short of the drive to freedom. Best done in a convertible (alas, my little LeBaron died), any car will do in a clinch. For the drive it is a requirement to put on the Margaritaville channel on Sirius radio (a Jimmy Buffet or Bob Marley CD will work fine, too). Leave your attitude in Miami or Weston and drive. I like to drive slow, stopping for a wonderful conch chowder at The Island Grill http://www.keysdining.com/islandgrill/, This, by the way is part of the real Islamorada - not the Tiki Bar. And it's not that I'm getting old - I always hated places that reek of pre-mixed pina coladas and vomit. Always have. Even at 20.

After a satisfying pitstop to refresh and have a little chowdah....it's heading south. This is where the scenery turns brilliant. take the time to stop at a parking spot and look down into the water. You'll be treated with manta rays, grouper and lobster - fantastic! I love to look at the old railway tracks and stop at the Hurricane Memorial in Islamorada, just south of the Cheeca Lodge.

Before the Seven Mile Bridge, I like to stop into The Island Fish Company for a brewski (just one - another 50 miles to go) and some conch fritters. Yes - this trip is all about eating, drinking and walking. Soon we're on the famous seven mile bridge - where I still marvel at running it on foot. But you can drive - most people do. Then we get into kitschy territory - The Dolphin Research Institute, The Turtle Hospital (complete with turtle ambulances), and the giant pink shrimp mobile (i don't know....I just don't know).....

My next favorite is the Key Deer sanctuary area. We always pull off the road to look for these amazing little dog-sized creatures. And we always spot one or two. So beautiful.

More bridges, more islands....the islands getting smaller and the bridges more and more frequent in the lower keys. The Gulf on your right and the Atlantic (really Florida Straits) on your left. Until...Key West!

We always stay at the same Bed and Breakfast, The Popular House. It feels like home to us - large and pink with cedar walls and funky decor. Our room has a giant fake Gauguin oil as a headboard. In Key West, there is of course Duval Street - known for bars, bars, and.....bars. But there is so much more in Key West.

Look at the houses - nearly every one is a historic site with a story. There is the Little White House the vacation home of Truman. The lighthouse, The Audubon House (OK - Audubon never lived here....but he might have)....The Hemingway House where you can see and play with Ernest Hemingway's famous six toed cats.....The Southernmost Point (only 90 miles to cuba), Mallory Square with the Sunset Celebration and the amazing acts that perform every day (tips are really appreciated and well earned). You can have a margarita at the original Pan Am building, (Now Kelly's a restaurant owned by Kelly McGillis), an incredible meal at Michael's (my favorite posh spot), or go looking for ghosts (my personal favorite thing to do)....

I love Key West. I like picking a side street and getting lost among the scent of honeysuckle on a warm summer night. I like finding a new restaurant (like The Cafe) and hunkering down to a Nice lazy lunch. I like listening to a cover band at Sloppy Joe's, knowing I am walking in the footsteps of Ernest Hemingway and Tennessee Williams. I like visiting the cemetery and shouting a hello - half waiting and half dreading a reply. What is it about Key West that attracts the strange, the artistic, the eccentric and me? Maybe it really does feel out of touch with the rest of the country - anything goes here - the politics and the social moires of the rest of the country don't matter here. Maybe because there is sea air from everywhere and gentle breezes blow eternal. Maybe because it is so different...yet so welcoming.

And so, after a boat trip to see dolphins, some absolutely amazing clam chili at Alonzo's Oyster bar and a sunset ale, it's time to drive back to Miami....Back to life, back to reality....

Why I Run

So a lot of my friends and acquaintances know me as a runner chick. Always running some marathon or (god help me) an ultramarathon. I'm not infallible and sometimes I fall off the running wagon and don't run for an extended period of time. OK - for me an extended period of time is like, well, a week. But still........I'm trying to prove that I'm human too.

I've run hundreds of races, dozens of marathons and one ultramarathon (that would be 50 miles, nonstop, in case you're wondering. check out http://www.keys100.com/ if you want to follow in my blistered footsteps. It's awesome). I've run in the morning, in the evening, in the dead of night, in the rain (hate when that happens), in the snow, in the freezing cold, during a hurricane and on some insanely beautiful and frighteningly ugly courses and trails.

I know the old chestnut - why do I run? Because it feels so good when I stop. Which is actually partially true. Also because a beer or a margarita never tastes as good as after a marathon. And because I was born with the tendency to not be built like my good friends Joy and Leticia - all tall and lithe and slender. If I didn't run or do something I would probably resemble tweedledee or humpty dumpty. Not a good look for me. And because it does allow me to travel to places to run a particular race without that tourist thing - I'm not a tourist - I'm here for a purpose - to run the Boston/New Orleans/Anchorage/Marine Corps/NYC marathon....And because it is cheaper than a gym membership, doesn't include those scary pilates torture devices and does not require me to learn neither intricate dance moves nor to hold poses for an extended period of time (I also, alas, was not born with grace or balance).

But the main reason why I run....the real reason why I run......is twofold - and sounds a little schizo. I run for the camaraderie AND the solitude.

Let me explain......In this world of increasingly less contact with people, running does offer a sense of community. This is such a digital age - you can be "friends" with someone you've never met, you can conduct meetings over thousands of miles and you can "phone in" your work, a report, a story, a pitch without ever having to leave your bedroom. The computer and cell phone and television are kings and while they have made the world smaller (I actually have friends and a client in Kenya. KENYA!) they have also made it more difficult to get together in person (I have friends, BEST FRIENDS, that I see like once every six months - you know who you are).....then one thing you can't do, though, is run a virtual race. Yes, I know. I hear you. Nike has tried that. Marketed it. Doesn't work. Stupid. Just a way to get your money. Even I, the running obsessed would not give Nike my money so I can run a marathon alone while other people are running alone wherever they are at the same time - would you? I will say this to you now, the road race, the marathon, the ultra marathon, the relay will continue to grow as a sport, a community event, a way to meet people.

So I run for the camaraderie. Because for the past seven years or so, every time Fall rolls around, I run with a team and train them for a race. And every Saturday at 5 am in the dark as I mix gatorade and drag Jack out of bed to walk dogs or something (because he joins me) I complain. And Jack complains. And I love every second of it. It's a rite of fall. It's seeing my friends. It's the joy I get when they are faster or stronger or have accomplished something great.

It's at the start of a large marathon being in a group of 20,000-40,000 other people who have the exact same goal as you. The same eye on the prize. It's at mile 13 or 26 or at the finish line when you talk to strangers on the course, sharing a gel or a helping hand to someone struggling that you don't even know and hearing complete and total strangers cheer for you like you're a rock star or a celebrity.

It's knowing that most of the people I cherish most on this earth are runners and that they embody the spirit of goodness. That they all have jobs, families, responsibilities yet still run and more often than not, raise money for a charity as well because I've found runners to be really good people. With hearts to match their appetites.

And there's the solitude.....Because sometimes after a long particularly difficult day of worries about job, bills, stress, obligations, sickness, loss....there is nothing more cathartic than putting on my shoes and running on the beach. Sometimes to music on the ipod. Sometimes to the music of the surf. But the world and it's petty and not so petty worries melt away. Running has kept me sane many many times over.

On second thought - it could be for the free t-shirts........

Freezing on the Equator

One of the places we visited in Kenya was Porini Rhino Camp. Porini Rhino Camp is located in the ol Pejeta conservancy in Nanyuki, Kenya. Nanyuki is located on the Equator. It's also located in the foothills of the Abadare mountain range and is at an elevation if over 6,000 ft. When you think of Africa, especially Kenya, especially being on the equator - you think of, well - hot weather. At least I do. And living in Miami for the past four years, that's a good thing because I totally gave up any tollerance for cold weather whatsoever and now am a total heat dweller - if it gets below 65 degrees, I'm shutting down...

So we fly into the Nanyuki airstrip - which by Kenya standards is a huge airport - they even have a giftshop and restaurant (Barnies). We land and see the airstrip on the equator sign - pretty remarkable. This is also the place to see rhino, wild dogs and cheetah - promising so far. we get into the land rover and make our way to camp - it's about a 2 hour trip to camp but these rides also double as game rides so the time goes by slowly when you are searching for rhino and zebra.

This conservancy has a rich history - it was actually owned by Lord Delamere from Out of Africa fame. The conservancy also was the home at one point to Adnan Khasoggi. There is the Jane Goodal Chimpanzee Refuge on this land and at 90,000 acres, is the largest rhino conservation area in Kenya. The land is much more lush than in Amboselli, which was more desert-like and much drier. And the mountains - you can see Mt. Kenya in the distance - beautiful and snow capped. Simply breathtaking.

We arrive at the camp and meet the camp manager, Ben. I immediately love this guy - he is all smiles and stories. It's apparent that he loves where he is and what he does and also loves to hear as well as tell a good story. Ben will spend every breakfast lunch and dinner with us as our host, our dinner guest and our entertainment - and this is most welcome by us.

We have a walk with Maasai in the conservancy and a lovely lunch under a giant tree - most wonderful. We then go for our traditional sundowner (unlike thanksgiving and christmas dinners with dysfunctional families - this, my friends, is a tradition worth taking note of. As far as traditions go, this is one that everyone should take up). Sundowners are just as they sound - you have a cocktail as the sun goes down. Only here, you're taken by open land rover to a hilltop, a campfire is made for you and you have a "bush" gin and tonic (no ice in the bush) while watching a mother cheetah teach her almost grown cubs to hunt. Does it get any better? I don't think so (but I'm open to it).

I am so fascinated that I don't realize the sun going down means the night setting in. And our guides bringing out down jackets for themselves make me think I'm in for a long night! By the time we get back to camp, I'm hiding under layers of traditional Maasai blankets. Who turned down the hear? This is Africa! When the hell did it get to be about 40 degrees F? Huh? Before dinner we literally put on every layer of clothing we have -I totally look like a crazy person - wearing black socks with my hiking sandals, a baseball cap - yup - this is my sexy honeymoon look alright! Hot hot hot!

Another wonderful meal with Ben, a chat by the fire (warmth) and then it's off to our tent. I'm in the bathroom and Jack gets into bed and I hear a scream - "there's an animal in our bed"! Shit - what kind of little furry thing with large teeth got into the tent? Too big for a real predator - maybe a mongoose? Jack is out of the bed by now - (let's get this straight - Jack is a real guy. He flies planes for a living. He does things in the air that make me sick thinking of it. He would walk a tightrope from our building on the 16th floor to the one across the street without thinking twice. But....when it comes to critters, especially spiders - that's my department). I pull the covers and it's....a.......hot water bottle. covered in a fuzzy material to make it cuddlier, I guess. We hear the Maasai guard ask if we're alright - we say yes - I'm sure he gets this every night.

The bed is really cozy - just me, Jack and our Nanyuki pet....the hot water bottle.

Hemingway and I

I am a complete and total animal rights activist. I want animals to be protected and to live out their lives free from hunting, torturing and being caged. I could no more think of eating a burger or wearing a fur than I could eating and wearing my dog. It's that insane a thought.

So it always seems strange to me that I am so fascinated by Earnest Hemingway. There are some reasons - we share a birthday (July 21st), we share a fascination and love of Key West, Cuba, drinking and the written word. I think we might have been friends, if he could be friends with a woman (and I think he could have. In fact I think contrary to popular belief he loved and respected women. If you read his books you'll know what I mean). But he was a hunter. A fisherman. He loved bullfights. I was in Key West, as I am in Key West every July 21st for OUR birthday (mine and Hemingway's). There was a thunderstorm of biblical proportions and we ducked into the local bookstore (Island Books - wonderful place). I looked at the obligatory Hemingway section and found "Hunting with Hemingway", Hemingway on Hunting", Blood in the Afternoon" and other Hemingway books on hunting, bullfighting, etc. So interesting.

After the rain stopped, I walked over to the Hemingway House. Hemingway left a trust for his cats and their descendants to be cared for. His biography said he never got over the loss of his dog, Black Dog. And that his cats were his sole writing companions. I spoke to Hemingway (it's said his ghost is attracted by the Hemingway celebrations during his birthday and comes back to the tiny Island City of Key West). I asked him why the duality?

Well, Ernest didn't answer me (though I did get an orb in my picture), but I think I got the answer on my own. Hemingway was a product of his time and so much more. I think he loved women and animals. I think he suffered from manic depression and had suicidal tendencies. I think he was very sensitive and sad and masked that with every macho thing he could do. I think he bought into the hunting to save the animals hoo haw. To be macho. To hide the pain.

Much has been written about Hemingway - good and bad. It's been written that he hunted hyena with a machine gun, but that he respected all the large cats he killed. It's been written that he adored all his cats and dogs and tried to save the stray dogs of Cuba. It's also been written that after two failed suicide attempts, his last wife unlocked the keys to the gun chest and let him know she did it.

There are many ghost stories about Key West. In Key West it's not only possible but likely that an author who had some good years in an island paradise should want to roam the town, stopping in to Sloppy Joe's for a drink and having a good chuckle about the Hemingway lookalike contests and the riding of the bulls down Duval Street even years after his death. If Hemingway does roam Key West, we'll meet someday. And I'll finally get to tell him my theory about him - that he felt way too much.....

Night Pride In Kenya

First of all, let me first say that I have been fascinated and obsessed with lions all my life. And that is not an exaggeration. When I was maybe three or four I saw Born Free. I think it must have been on TV because it came out I think the year I was born. But I remember being obsessed with Elsa the lion afterward. I remember going to the bookstore and getting my first "grown up book" which was Born Free. I remember the couple that owned the bookstore (at that early age I was one of their best customers and would be taken there every Sunday for my weekly books) wasn't sure that I was ready for the foray into grown up books but sold it to me anyway.



So anyway, when I went to Kenya, I wanted to see lions. Finally lions face to face. To see a lion free like Elsa was. Not in a cage. Not in a zoo, but the way she was supposed to be. I also secretly thought that any lion in Kenya could possibly be a blood relative to my Elsa.



We had gotten to Porini Lion Camp in the Masai Mara late in the day. We were supposed to have gotten there early but our regional flight was very late and we had spent three hours at our airstrip in Nanuki, four hours in Nairobi and finally gotten to the Mara at close to dusk. I was disappointed because this was LION CAMP - I figured that if the camp was named for lion, then we would see lion and we hadn't seen lion yet.

Then we heard magic words - would you like to do for a night drive after dinner? Hell yeah! We shared the land rover with a couple from England. They were more interested in birds in the daytime, but I guess the chance to see lions at night intrigued them, too. We drove for not more than a few miles and turned off the ignition. And all lights. It was pitch black and may I remind you that the land rover was completely open on all sides. We waited, then we heard them.

The roars. They're so deep that you feel them in your chest. It's that timbre of the roar that's so impressive. And so many. The feeling that you're surrounded by these large cunning predators. And this is their land. And their time of the day - night. When they have all the advantages. Our guide Kennedy, turned on a light and sure enough we were surrounded. I counted the lions. Thirty. Thirty in all. Jack and the English Couple got in the back of the land rover and stood as if to get farther away from the lions. I got closer - almost face to face with a lioness. I might never get this experience again and I was enraptured by these magnificent beasts. The lights went out again and the roars started. Deep. Thunderous. They came at us from all sides - the deep roar of the male calling to his pride then the roars of a few dozen females answering in a lion roll call.

Amongst all this one lone gazelle managed to lose her way into the pack of lions. At hunting time. Now I have to tell you that I do not ever for a minute fool myself into thinking that nature is dark and that life and death go hand in hand. I know that for every beautiful lion cub I see, equally beautiful gazelle and zebra die to feed that cub. I get it. I just don't really want to see it. But here is the gazelle. And here comes the lioness.

We watch the stalk, the stealth involved. Then, the chase. The lioness speeds up, she almost makes contact with the gazelle and then gets down to swipe the gazelles long legs out from under it with a giant paw.....and misses. The gazelle trots away and the lioness walks it off as if to say "I meant to let it get away". just like that the hunt is over. No second attempt. You get one chance and one chance only to be the hunter or the hunted. Life and death so close to each other you would think they are lovers.

We then leave the pride to a night of hunting and feeding. Amazing.

The Bat Cave

The thing I liked best about Nicaragua is that Granada, one of the main little towns in this country, has no gift shops, no souvenir shops and only one tour operator in the entire town. Perhaps because people still think of Contras and Sandinistas and poverty when they think of Nicaragua. I think of volcanos and lakes and Tona beer that's so cold you get a beer brain freeze.

We had spent the day climbing and exploring Mambacho, the largest volcano in that area. Mombacho is impressive and still considered active but no lava and no sulphur. I want my volcanos to be all hellish with fire and lava and acidic steam. I love volcanos. Obsessed with them. I wanted more. As we passed the tour operator on the way back to the little lodge we were staying at, I noticed a sign. This sign to me like probably heroin to an addict. The sign simply said - See the Bats and Lava at Volcan' Masaya at Night. OK - we had been to Masaya volcano already - impressive in that it was very active and stank of sulphur and everything around it was dead because of the poisonous gasses. But we hadn't seen lava and we hadn't seen bats. I was in! Jack opted to go to the little pool and have a caprihiana. Most people would have agreed with his plans.

So I get on a bus, myself. The lone female american tourista off to see the bats and the lava. We stopped at the Masaya Market (a traditional place where you can but everything from fruit to fish to clay pots to god-awful fake Mickey Mouse Pinatas) and picked up some more americans - mostly missionaries that took the evening off from feeding orphans and preaching gospel to see some real fire and brimstone and creatures of the night.

Masaya Volcano is more impressive at dusk. There are three craters and a large cross off to the side. The cross was put up because the volcano is believed to be the gateway to hell and that is supposed to stop the devil from burning the local villages to the ground. The cross has been replaced several times after eruptions burned it to the ground. I'll let you form your own opinion of that. The most active crater spews out toxic sulphur and it's recommended you stay only 15 minutes by this crater. The air is moist and stinks and it's hard to breathe - it's awesome! But in this poisonous atmosphere life finds a way. Parrots live in the walls of the craters. They go out foraging all day and at night they come back to their toxic home. And sure enough we hear in the distance the caws and screams of hundreds of birds. And in an instant as if on cue, they fly past and into the small holes in the side of the crater.

We then trek up to the other crater - past a DANGER FALLING ROCK sign. This is Nicaragua and really, if you fell into a volcano would anyone know? No. No safety rope, no signs. I love this.

And then time to see the caves and the bats. Which is interesting becauce it's night. And pitch black. And we have to climb DOWN a tree to get down to the caves - which are wet, slippery and pitch black. We are given flashlights and then told to shut them off and stay still. You cant see the hand in front of you. It's that kind of dark that hurts your eyes.

And then...we feel them and hear them. Whooshes right near your ears. Little screeches. Then more. Then hundreds of little bodies that go at you in kamakazi fashion and veer off to the right or left at the last second to avoid a head on collision with you. Thousands of little bats - not seen but felt, heard. This must be what it feels like to have a bullet whizzing by you. the rustle and wind of tiny wings flying by your ears. I take a single flash picture and when I look at it afterward, there's a dozen bats in front of me - small, furry yellow bodies, red eyes, leathery black wings and smiling fanged grins - amazing. What an experience.

As for the lava? Well, in for a penny, I guess. I was the only one who wanted to still see the lava after being shown where it was. Walk in the pitch blackness to the end of the crater. There's a stick in the lava. Hold it and lean into the crater - be careful - that's 50 ft. down and the lava is about 450 degrees. Hey - I drive in Miami - this is way safer. And I am rewarded with the soft glow of fire. Lava at last.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=foOfC52WiDM

Scrabble Tournament in Kenya

November, 2008

Jack and I were at our first camp of three in Kenya. I was in heaven - wildlife, amazing people, sleeping in a tent and being awakened by Maasai bringing coffee in bed. I mean this was the fantasy come to life. Our camp was Porini Amboselli Camp - situated near the famous Amboselli National Park - home to elephant and dust devils.

The camp Manager was named Tony. He was a little aloof and in this heat in the bush (very dusty) he wore a white sport jacket. Jack nicknamed him Mr. Rourke (from Fantasy Island). Tony didn't really mingle with us - he left us to our own accord - possibly because he knew we were on out honeymoon, possibly because he had better things to do than talking to American tourists - like run the camp. On our last day at this particular camp, I asked Jack if he wanted to play scrabble with me. I always bring my portable scrabble game with me everywhere I go. And I always force Jack to play. And he always loses and when he starts losing he gets a little whiny and he sabotages the game so he will lose faster. It's kind of a game within a game. We play. Jack gets bored. Loses big time. Starts with the abbreviations (FAA is not a word, honey).

Sooooo I mention to Jack that we have to play scrabble and Tony the aloof camp manager overhears and says "scramble? I love scramble". Jack volunteers him to play with me. OK before dinner TOny and I will play scramble (I love scramble. so much a more appropriate name for the game, don't you think?).....So we get changed for dinner and Tony and I play scramble. Tony is good. And takes it seriously. There is no scramble dictionary so we make some new rules. No Swahili. English only, please. And if someone challenges a word and the other player can't use it in a sentence and give a definition it goes off the board. This makes up for a slight language and culture (Kenyans are schooled in the British way and spelling is British rules) difference.

Anyway, we play. And Tony is good. But I am winning. By now, there are about a dozen Maasai warriors around the game. And the chef is yelling that the soup is burning. Doesn't matter - what matters is the game. I finally found someone who takes this seriously and he's in Kenya....go figure. Well, I'm thinking is it OK for the camp manager to get beaten by an American woman? Will the Maasai give him respect? Hell with that - I'm winning! So I win. TOny shakes my hand and asks for a rematch. I'd love to, I explain, but our flight out of Amboselli is at like 10 am and it's a 2 hour trip to the airstrip and so sad, too bad, maybe next time. So Tony says, I will wake you up at 4am so we can play. Sure, buddy. Go for it I say.


Four AM. Jack and I see a lantern in our sleep traveling toward the tent. "That's your wake up call", Jack says. Oh damn - this guy was serious. I throw on some shorts and my glasses, stumble out of the nice warm tent and into the night trailing a Maasai warrior with a lantern and a spear. There is a fire burning, strong hot coffee waiting and a table with.....the scrabble board all set up. Tony is there with his sport jacket - how the hell does he look dapper at 4am in the middle of Kenya?

We play and to make it more interesting we make a bet. If he wins he gets the scrabble (ahem, scramble) board. We play. Again more Maasai show up. Jack shows up to watch. This is an epic battle - wars were fought over less - woman vs. man. US vs. Kenya. City vs. Savannah. Some words are challenged (apoem is not a word, Tony. yes it is - I wrote apoem. Nooooo)...

As the sun starts to rise, the birds join the tournament. Thousands of birds, millions of birds. Singing and waking. Chattering and flying. As we play scrabble by the fire, the firey sun rises over the African plain. And as I play, I am aware that this incredible and surreal moment in my life will certainly never come again. I am in Africa. I am playing scrabble by the firelight as the sun rises over the land I have dreamed about all my life. I am losing this game that is being watched by Maasai - the most beautiful and majestic people I have ever seen.

I wind up losing. And shaking Tony's hand. And presenting him with the game. He is a formidable opponent and a new friend. We promise each other a rematch. I will make good. Someday.

July 2009 - Just received a message from Wilson, our guide at Amboselli Porini Camp in Kenya. He was playing scrabble. I smiled.