Speaking of Thanksgiving, I remember an incident from my trip through the Sudan in 1984. We did not give thanks right away but I reckon the locals saved us from possible danger. We arrived too late at the border to be processed that night so we pulled off the main road about one km. into the desert to set up camp. A couple of locals followed us and started gesticulating and chatting. As the one who spoke the most French, I was called over by Mark. The chap wanted us to camp closer to the village and river. We preferred to be off on our own as we were less likely to have people staring at us. I told them this. They were very insistent.
After a few minutes of back and forth I was finally able to understand their comments and it became clear why they were being so adamant. To say that hippos are territorial can be an understatement; so, although not carnivores, they are the most dangerous animals in Africa. And just the night before, a rampaging hippo had killed a village woman who was walking in the "wrong" area - which happened to be where we were setting up camp. We quickly moved closer to the village.
So, although the group may have not said it at the time or shown our appreciation for their advice, I now say thank you!
2009/10/12
2009/10/11
georgian bay
Sun has been dodging clouds all day and now it has been out for an hour or so.
I am away from the wind so the heat is glorious as the waves race to the rocks.
The rocks here are so Canadian.
Imagine being in Japan or India and never being able to see a place like this?
It's not as scary as the desert because you can see other places, islands, cottages, but you feel removed.
Glittering green and red leaves rest on the ponds.
Dips and doodles and pockets of water and marsh face up to the wind.
There are curves and dips and shallows in the rocks.
There are gouges and gaps and hollows ... .
The striations in the rocks are so beautiful.
These variances entice me to engage in a relationship with them.
They tempt me to find patterns and outlines, possibly stories in their midst.
Can rocks talk? Well, not talk; they don' talk; but do they speak?
Continuity is instinctive here on the rocks: the sun bakes you on the rocks during the day and continues to permeate your back as you lie watching the stars at night.
I am away from the wind so the heat is glorious as the waves race to the rocks.
The rocks here are so Canadian.
Imagine being in Japan or India and never being able to see a place like this?
It's not as scary as the desert because you can see other places, islands, cottages, but you feel removed.
Glittering green and red leaves rest on the ponds.
Dips and doodles and pockets of water and marsh face up to the wind.
There are curves and dips and shallows in the rocks.
There are gouges and gaps and hollows ... .
The striations in the rocks are so beautiful.
These variances entice me to engage in a relationship with them.
They tempt me to find patterns and outlines, possibly stories in their midst.
Can rocks talk? Well, not talk; they don' talk; but do they speak?
Continuity is instinctive here on the rocks: the sun bakes you on the rocks during the day and continues to permeate your back as you lie watching the stars at night.
day one
A friend told me she had started a blog so I thought I would do the same.
Here we go!
My idea is to convert some of the ramblings from my travel diaries into some compelling stories. I have lots of material as I now have been to over 100 countries. On going semi-challenge with a co-worker who is managing to stay 2 or 3 countries ahead of me. Bummer! Helps to keep me sharp!
Here we go!
My idea is to convert some of the ramblings from my travel diaries into some compelling stories. I have lots of material as I now have been to over 100 countries. On going semi-challenge with a co-worker who is managing to stay 2 or 3 countries ahead of me. Bummer! Helps to keep me sharp!
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