What I Was Doing In December 2003

What I’ve been reading: depends which venue. On the dinner table is an Esquire magazine, one of the few fashionable magazines I can stand to read all the way through. I only read magazines while I eat, since I don’t like to have to hold a book. In my backpack is a South African travel magazine, two Gourmet magazines, and The Tummy Trilogy by Calvin Trillin. On the couch is Nigel Slater’s Real Food, in the bedroom is William Least Heat-Moon’s Blue Highways about a journey he takes on the backroads of the US (shown in blue on maps) in the 70’s. Calvin Trillin used to be upstairs but he got put in the backpack somehow.

What I’ve been eating: for breakfast I have muesli, non-fat Greek yogurt with a small spoonful of strawberry jam stirred in so I can eat it, a kiwi fruit, a glass of orange juice, a vitamin tablet, and a mug of plunger coffee with milk. For lunch I usually have shaved smoked chicken on sunflower bread with mayonnaise and mustard, a piece of fruit, a glass of milk, and some potato chips. For dinner, usually fresh green vegetables like asparagus and fresh green peas, then maybe some maple-soy glazed salmon, and a glass of milk. I went to Cape Town on Saturday and went to Aubergine, one of their most famous restaurants. I had the tasting platter, which started with a gift from the chef: a small salmon parcel. Then a glass of white wine (don’t remember any of these wine details), and sesame crusted tuna sashimi, another type of white wine and tempura prawns, a sorbet to clean the mouth, a big glass of red, then kudu fillet on cheese risotto, the port, and some shaved hard cheese with a port wine sauce, then a muscatel with some cottage cheese omelette with chocolate ice cream. Luiz had a cigar but I didn't.

What I’ve been thinking about: my next holiday, and what I want to be when I grow up. I thought of perhaps going to one of these ranger courses that are common in South Africa, then I could work as a ranger for one of the private game concessions and drive around all day pointing at things and generally goof off, eat nice dinners with the guests, and get lots of juicy tips from rich Yanks, which I would be successful at since I know what yanks like and don’t like (free refills on the coffee, no questions asked, still (not sparkling) cold water without asking for it, charming conversation, an unusual experience so hire a "bushman" to hang around so we can "bump into" him on our bush walk and watch him dig grubs for his "dinner"). Then I thought of all the 18 year old kids I’d have to sit with in these courses and thought the better of it.

My next holiday: starts tomorrow and includes 9 days at work in Tanzania, one day back in Johannesburg, then 9 days in London to see all the museums and sights there, then a day in San Diego with Viki, a day in Los Angeles maybe with Eric, a weekend in Las Vegas with Lisa, a week in Hawaii over Christmas, then a week in Florida with Tim and Jennifer, flying to Fort Lauderdale then driving down through Miami, the Everglades, and Key West. Back to Johannesburg on the 5th of January.

Things I’ve bought lately: a bunch of beef fillet steak, Thai chilli chicken, South African sausage, and BBQ spare ribs for a BBQ at work on Wednesday night, biltong (beef jerky) for all the homesick SAFs (South Africans) at work, some Christmas presents, two pillows for the couch, a DVD player for Charles, music CD’s for Luiz, insulated coffee mugs for Ally, a magazine for Ettienne, and never did find those calculators he wanted.

What my hair looks like: the usual straight cut to the shoulders, nearly always tied back because it annoys me otherwise. I’m getting a lot of grey in it these days. It was last cut on August 14th, three months ago.

What I’ve been listening to: Norah Jones’ debut CD which won 8 Grammy awards. It’s brilliant, you need to buy it. Go and do that now.

What I’ve been fighting: now that I haven’t got any need to fight the constant and overwhelming urge to goof off that has consumed me for nearly my entire life, since I am always goofing off these days, I haven’t really been fighting anything lately.

What I’ve crossed off my list: went to the dentist and had the green tea stains sandblasted off and a small cavity filled, I called a cabinet maker about building my sand boxes but he wasn’t taking any jobs till next year so that is still on the list, I made a sketch for my sand boxes, I bought Luiz’s CD’s, Charles’ DVD player, Ettienne’s magazine, and Ally’s insulated coffee mugs, I had two dresses altered, I called the entire southern African continent for Ettienne’s calculators, I bought some Christmas gifts (funny how people get stuff I like….), renewed my Australian passport, looked in the yellow pages for knife sharpeners and never found one so that is still on the list, went to find out about getting some slides printed but they won’t get their new machine till this week, and I finished my Mexico story. I never did sort out my dreaded storage container, nor sell my old books, because they are in the dreaded storage container. It’s amazing how little a person can accomplish if you really put your mind to it.

What I’m wearing: currently my nifty pointy Moroccan leather slippers (described by a friend as more of a "conversation piece" than a functional pair of shoes), a 3/4s sleeve beige linen shirt and light brown linen pants, both in desperate need of an ironing. I bought an iron and an ironing board when I moved here but I haven’t ironed anything yet despite really needing too, because the ironing board still has the shop plastic cling wrap on it and I haven’t got the strength to take it off. All of this wrinkly stuff will be chucked and replaced with the new non-wrinkly things I will hopefully get in California….all of my other bad clothing choices have been shoved out the windows on the street corners to the little kids with the upside down cardboard signs saying please help me I am suffering.

What’s in my purse: my wallet, my car key, my digital camera (containing photographs of my dinner, a sign by the side of the street advertising "painter Aaron 083 510-8730", some flowers, the hand dryer in the toilets at the airport, some flowers on the table where I had breakfast in Stellenbosch, and the bar of a café where we watched the rugby game), a dirty Kleenex which I’ve just thrown away, Yikes!! I am so glad I did this! I just found a $50 bill and a bill I was supposed to pay for someone! Plus, a sock knitted by an old lady who sold it to me through a bus window in Turkey and should be my camera case but the camera fell out, some Nyquil tablets given to me by the Canadians after they gave me their cold in Morocco, my keys, a lock for the gym lockers, a 10x hand lens for inspecting bugs, tanzanite, and sand, some Body Shop honey lip balm, my passport, my vaccination card, my international driver’s license, my Tanzanian driver’s license, some business cards of people I never call, some to-do lists which I’ve just thrown away, and a key that I don’t know what it fits. As soon as I throw away I will look everywhere for this key.

South Africa

A baby impala trying to look invisible at Hluhluwe Reserve, in KwaZulu Natal. This is not the first time I have seen a playful young animal skipping across a road, la la la, and noticing me at the last minute, slam on their brakes. They think that if they suddenly freeze, I won't see him. I always say to him, I see you little buddy, just make sure you look out next time, I could be a lion!

A meerkat at the elephant sanctuary at Hartebeespoort Dam, outside Johannesburg. These little guys are semi-domesticated, follow the guides around, and respond when their names are called. It took us a little while to figure this out, we thought it was amazing at first.

Rhino crossing at Hluhluwe Reserve. I was usually pretty lucky with other car traffic, but this shot shows what some of the experience can be like. This particular area has the most beautiful scenery.

Cheetah at a sanctuary at Oudsthoorn, in the Little Karoo, Western Cape. The one animal I have never really had a good look at, much less a good photograph of, is the leopard.

An elephant at the Kruger National Park. The sun was behind him so it is not the best picture, but he was extremely close to me, and stood there next to my car for quite a long time. They make a tremendous noise when they want to.

Colour From Mali

Women at the Djenne markets. These colours or patterns wouldn't appeal to me if I were going dress shopping, but they look great on them!

We spent about an hour on the rooftop of someone's house taking photos of the Djenne markets. I am sure the person who owned this shop had no idea how lucrative his roof would be. Actually it's a fantastic money making opportunity, how many other people would think of it? He also had some tables laid out with jewellry for sale.

We slept in tents on the rooftops of mud huts whenever we were spending the night in a village, because it was much cooler than inside. One night we were getting ready to sleep on the roof top in a village and we started to hear some kids yelling in a happy kind of way. It got louder and louder with the little kids from all over the village cheering. No one in the camp said anything. I asked our tour leader what the noise was, he checked with the owners, who said, "the little children are celebrating the full moon tonight, because it means that they can stay up late and play".

Lemons for sale on the right at the Djenne markets. The white round balls on the left are shea butter, which is extracted from the nut of the shea tree, common to Mali. You will see it as an ingredient in Body Shop products or other cosmetics which support local products in developing countries. You can either eat it or use it as a moisturiser.

Malians exchanging a greeting on their way to the Djenne mosque and markets.

Village elders in Dogon country. They had these guys out for display before the dance ceremony. Unfortunately they had them parked directly in the sun, so it was hard to get a good photo. And you can hardly ask a benchload of old dudes to shift over. Malians are very industrious, I notice. They have a dance ceremony and photo ops of the old chaps twice a day and make stacks of money for their village. It's a social occasion, the tour groups are small in number so they are not totally swarmed, and takes maybe an hour of their time each day. It's great for everyone.

My Kitchen in Wells

The kitchen at 2 Lawpool Court, Wells, on the market since April, 2006!

From an email to my dad on May 13, 2006: Last night Cailli came around for dinner, and we were sitting in the living room when this really loud pop happened outside the living room. Cailli was in the middle of a long story that was important to her. I said, excuse me, what do you reckon that pop was. She says perhaps an egg exploding? I didn't have any potentially detonating eggs on hand. So I went into the kitchen and the freaken fuse had blown on the oven. Which was supposed to be heating up to cook our dinner. I went down to the big box with all the switchey things in it and saw one of the switches was down. I put it up. Nothing changed in the oven. So guess the fuse is blown.

I am not surprised as this happened several times during the installation of the oven. But it means taking the entire oven out of the wall because some dumbfreak put the fuse behind the dreaded oven instead of up someplace where you can reach it. So, that is kind of bad timing, in case some potential house buyer comes along and wants to check on the oven. I guess I can make an appointment to have someone come and look at it when I come back from Spain.

So we walked all the pots and pans down to Cailli’s place and cooked it there. Which is not a bad thing because she gets to do the washing up.

So I was gunna ask you how to make roasted asparagus seeing as how I have sold my microwave, and I always steam my asparagus in the microwave. Except now I don’t have a dreaded oven anymore so I guess I won’t ask. Just as well I’m moving!!

Mali

Mali is a very photogenic place. This is the mosque at Timbuktu, you have seen another picture of it already but from the outside. This photo is taken from an interior courtyard. My Australian friend Jane works for a mining company in Mali but is now based in Perth most of the time, and she is now in Bamako, the capitol. When I was living in South Africa and commuting to work in Tanzania, she happened to come through South Africa. But I was in Tanzania at the time so she stayed at my place and I didn't see her. I was in Mali on two weeks holiday and she was somewhere else. Our paths do sort of cross but at the wrong times!

This is an elder's resting place in Dogon country along the Bandiagara Escarpment. This is where village life is discussed and decisions made. The roof is deliberately low to remind the elders to keep their cool: if they were to discuss something which turned into an argument, and someone jumps up in excitement or anger to make their point, they will bang their head on the low ceiling. It looks like a pretty pleasant place. You can see the Harmmattan dust cloud forming in the background.

This is the Djenne mosque which you have also seen before, but this is from another angle. I had wanted to get a photo in the good morning light but there was a whole group of tourists standing where I wanted to take my photo (there were a tremendous amount of French tourists there), who then stood en masse right in front of me talking after they had taken their photos. I think they must have been friends of the Norwegian girl. These guys here are getting ready for the markets which take place in front of the mosque.

These are some Dogon dancers who put on performances to tourists and encourage photography. I think it is a great way for them to earn money for the village and to keep some of their traditions alive. They put a lot of effort into the dancing, although I wonder whether the colour and fabric of their skirts are very traditional! I think it was some sort of polyester rope.

Thanksgiving in Canada

How's this for a perfect turkey. In Canada, Thanksgiving is held on the second Monday in October, which is about a month earlier than the US Thanksgiving, because Canada is further north and has their harvest earlier. Thanksgiving here is more of a thanks for a harvest, which is a European tradition dating from medieval times. The Canadians trace their first Thanksgiving to an official thanks given by Martin Frobisher in 1578 while trying to find the Northwest Passage. The American Thanksgiving dates from 1621.

I had Thanksgiving dinner at the home of Luisa and her husband. Luisa is from Colombia but her husband is Canadian so we had a traditional dinner, including a very nice red pepper soup. The very next day I was invited to the home of our Canadian engineer Dick (although he was away on a business trip), where I had dinner with his two daughters, his wife Julie, and her Irish friend Margaret, a former nun. Julie is from Papua New Guinea, and Dick's family is Polish, so the meal also featured plantain and pirogies. I am having my third Thanksgiving this year in California with Tim and Jennifer. These were my first proper Thanksgiving dinners in 18 years, so I am making up for lost time.

Commercial Drive

A mural on Commercial Drive. This street is lined with all kinds of shops, and is particularly famous for African and European shops and cafes. It is regarded as one of the best neighbourhoods in Vancouver.

What I Was Doing in November 2001

What I’ve been reading: Dad gave me a bunch of books for my birthday, and I’m finally getting to them. I’m currently on Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell. A fantastically written book about his personal experiences with poverty in those cities. Previous to that, A Cure for Serpents by an Italian doctor about his experiences in North Africa.

What I’ve been thinking about: the beach. Wouldn’t it be perfect if there were a beach here. I’d be up at the crack swimming. Then gulp my lunch and go swimming. Wear my bathing suit under my clothes and sneak off at 3 pm and go swimming, come back to work and drip all over the chair. Slam the door shut at 5:30 and go swimming. If you can’t have that then why not resurface the office floor with hard packed white beach sand. Lift everything off the floor on stands, and put in a sea water wave machine to send little ripples of water over our bare feet. You could even give it a tidal cycle, from the toes up to the ankles. I should be an entrepreneur. Also: what do I want to be when I grow up? Still unresolved. I’m definitely only staying here one more year though. How come my sheets are so old? Why is my toilet making that awful spraying noise? Why isn’t my front door locked when I come home from work, in a country where the national sport is theft? Why does it take the travel people 7 weeks to book a plane ticket?

What I’ve been listening to: I’m giving those Cubans a run for their money. A friend of mine wanted me to hear Andrea Bocelli, so I’ve been listening to him a lot. Got Macy Gray’s new CD in the UK and I haven’t been listening to it.

What I’ve been seeing: all kinds of pretty birds on my walk around the inside perimeter of the fence (I know this distance exactly, having measured it by three different means. It is 5.4 km). Beautiful oranges, reds, maroons, blues, yellows, browns. Too bad I don’t know any of the names.

What I’ve been smelling: unfortunately very little incense as I have long since burnt the 918 sticks (I counted) of incense I got in France a year and a half ago, and haven’t managed to find decent replacements. Hopefully there will be a bunch of druids selling some decent smelling stuff in Hawaii.

Favourite tastes: ginger, malt, lemon, Kilkenney stout.

What I’ve been drinking: no more bottled water provided by the company, now we are being fed excessively chlorinated Lake Victoria water, home to bilharzia and other organisms, contaminants, and heavy metals. There’s a noxious green gaseous cloud swirling above my head in the shower now, my hair is slightly green, and my hard won tan is fading.

What I’ve been saying: To my boss: "We need one less expatriate geologist next September? Okay, I’ll quit!!". Seconds later, after remembering how I get my two months completion bonus only if I quit on a February, and I do my maths and realize that’s like 5 months too soon, "did I say that? I don’t want to quit! Geez I was thinking how great it was here, I wanna stay forever! Say, can we go back and erase that conversation?"

What I’ve been eating: Bacon and a plain omelet and orange sugar water for breakfast, three small oddly cut pieces of roast chicken (I think they use a band saw for this) and a banana for lunch, for a snack, the ginger mom sent me for Christmas, and protein from the major muscle groups of domesticated farmed mammals at dinner, wherever possible.

What I’ve bought lately: just now an airline ticket from Los Angeles to Hawaii, after learning that the travel agents in Dar charged me $1100 more for the same ticket. Christmas presents over the internet for my family.

What I’ve been wearing: contact lenses, pink pony tail band, now completely grey underwares, either my blue Henty long sleeve shirt, a green checked linen long sleeve shirt, or a blue checked long sleeve shirt. Jeans shorts with an ever widening hole inconveniently located right at the zipper, or khaki shorts. Hiking socks bought in Freiburg, Germany. Steel capped boots from Tasmania, recently resoled in Kakola, the nearby village, for $2. The soles have begun detaching after a single day’s use. Whaddya expect for $2. And they reckon this is a remote mine site.

What I’ve been fighting: the constant and overwhelming urge to goof off.

What I’ve been doing at work: After being bored stiff for two months, I’ve just recently asked for and been granted responsibility for Zone 1 underground, in addition to my other duties. Which means visiting something like 20 headings maybe three days a week, and attending the morning and weekly planning meetings (agh!). But no mapping, fighting with uncooperative tape measures, wrestling with hoses, or smashing rocks with hammers or stuffing rocks in bags or carrying them around, what a bonus. Have yet to have a run in with the miners but that is only a matter of time. My favourite mine captain is on leave. He will be overjoyed to see I am looking at his stuff first hand.

What I’m going to do when I get to Hawaii: drink as much milk as I can until I faint. Take surfing lessons. Hike Haleakala Crater with Tim. Go to Peter and Kris’s wedding. Go to the dentist. Go to the girly doctor.

What I’m going to do in Lapland: go on a husky dog sled trip (instead I spent it in bed at the lodge in Lapland, suffering from malaria). Snowmobile. Cross country ski. Snow shoe. Have a sauna. Look at the northern lights. Freeze. Go on a rein deer sleigh ride. Take lots of pictures.

Where I’m going next time: Haven’t decided yet. Depends if I can convince someone to come with me!

Outside My Window Today

The view out my 18th floor window at around 10 AM today. They do get some fog here. I don't know why it isn't more famous because it sure comes in fast, at unusual hours of the day, and it's pretty thick. I heard the fog before I actually saw it, while I was still in bed I could hear more than the usual number of foghorns from the harbour. At work a few weeks ago, on a clear sunny day, I saw what I thought was a very fast moving wall of smoke funnelling into the harbour from the direction of Stanley Park. It's been very dry here so I assumed Stanley Park was on fire, especially since it was 2 pm. It took quite a long time to convince me it was actually fog.

I was at work today (Sunday), and heard a racket outside the window and saw a helicopter between my building and the one across the street. By the time I got my camera out it had moved to where it is here. I was not entirely surprised to see it because they are shooting a film on the roof of our building, and I can see the film set in the reflection of the glass of the building opposite. They do quite a lot of film and television in Vancouver, just about every day I see evidence of it.

What I Was Doing In August 2001

What I’ve been reading: my Pieter Brueghel the Elder book on his life history with reproductions and commentary on each of his paintings, including the name of the museum where they are stashed. I’m thinking now that I didn’t spend enough time looking at the one in the Smithsonian. Drats! I’m also reading Rick Steve’s Guide to the UK and Ireland. I started Jonathan Raban’s Passage to Juneau in Saint Martin and still haven’t finished it. It’s interesting, but a little academic so it’s slow going. One interesting thing I learnt was that the Inuit did not carve totem poles till around the time that European ships made contact with them, so there is the theory that the Inuit got the idea of totem poles from ship’s figureheads. I got a few more magazines in the US which I still need to read, including more Outside Magazines, Esquire (a man’s magazine but they have great articles and who minds looking at nice looking guys wearing nice clothes?), and Islands magazine.

What I’ve been eating: awright, everyone bagged me about my excessive breakfast, and I see on my latest break that it is catching up with me (I can only see myself in my 1 square foot mirror illuminated by an 11 watt lightbulb located behind my head, so I only get a really good look at myself once every three months). So I bought me a whole bunch of goodies in the US and currently my breakfast is a packet of oatmeal and a cup of coffee (tragedy: we have run out of UHT milk, and there won’t be any more delivered for another week!! Agh!! So no coffee now for two days. I have been drinking black English Breakfast tea in the mornings in an attempt to get some caffeine but it isn’t the same, is it?). For lunch I’ve been having a handful of roasted soybeans and some dried figs or dates. I need a tiny bit of sugar after lunch so I’ve been nibbling on my goodies I got at Grandma Sugarplums. I got some English toffee, some fudge, some chocolate dipped dried apricots, some peanut butter cups, a box of sour gummy bears, and a dozen pixie sticks. Whoo ya. So every day I get a little bit of that. If I’m hungry in the afternoon I will make myself a little pot of my Japanese green tea and if that doesn’t work then I have a few more soy beans. So this means I am not a victim of the mess at breakfast and lunch and means I can avoid the pack of circling sharks at the lunch making area. For dinner it’s the usual stuff they give me, but I’ve cut out the ice cream, dunno how long I will be able to keep that up because the ice cream is the best thing about dinner.

What I’ve been thinking about: Still thinking about what I want to be when I grow up, but have pretty much decided on being a community college teacher and live back in the US eventually. I figure when I go back to the US, I could travel around and scope out good communities all over the States, check out their community colleges and apply to the ones I like. But I still want to work here as long as I can, since I always look forward to my next trips, and I can save a heap of money to get a nice house for when I do move back. I've also been thinking about and regretting not eating that second piece of chocolate cake, and sharing that piece of key lime pie with dad (he should have ordered his own!), and not getting the cheese cart at Alain Ducasse, and not eating that second tray of edamami beans, and what was I thinking, I only had one margarita, and I didn’t eat any Cheerios, and I didn’t get any gingerbread men...

What I’ve been thinking about in the meetings we had at 5 PM all last week: I had a constant scream running through my head and it went like aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh until the meeting is finally finished an hour after it was supposed to have ended. We’ve had two consultants working with me and every evening we have a wrap up meeting where we are supposed to be talking about what we achieved that day and what we hope to achieve the next day. The meetint is supposedly scheduled for half an hour but unfortunately there is a guy attending these meetings who can and does talk a constant torrent of words until he is physically suppressed. Also unfortunately the guy who is chairing these meetings is either glazing big time or dozes off and lets them run for 45 minutes longer than they’re supposed to. So I sit there and nudge the table to try to wake him up and pointedly tap at my watch in an attempt for him to pay attention and start getting the meeting under control. He’s my bosses boss, not exactly the best career move on my part but geez!! I told Peet what was running through my mind at the meetings, and he asked if I wanted to know what he was thinking about, and then he made all these motorcycle noises, revving, shifting, squealing around sharp corners and popping wheelies and stuff. I wonder if anyone is paying attention.

What I’ve been listening to: First favourite is Compay Segundo’s Lo Mejor de la Vida, he is one of the guys from Buena Vista Social Club. What a beautiful CD with some unusual style songs on it. One thing I admire is that he is happy to let other people do the lead vocals from time to time. I traded my Dick Dale and the Deltones CD for dad’s Surfer Magazine best of surfing music for the past 40 years, and that one is second favourite. Third favourite is a Cake CD which features a song titled Shut the @#$$ Up, which I sing over and over again in my head when I’m not screaming aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh at the meetings.

What I’ve been fighting: the constant and overwhelming urge to goof off, which has been a hallmark of my working career. Luckily I have one of those mainly brainless jobs where I can sit here like the trained monkey that I am and daydream about anything I want.

My next break: England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland. I’m renting a car with Evert, one of the Canadian engineers here. He went with me to the Serengeti and for a weekend in Dar es Salaam, so he should be good fun to travel with. This trip I am interested in meeting the locals, whereas before it was too much of an effort to try to break through the language barrier, either that or I’m on my own and people always think a single chick on their own who is talking to them, wants to sleep with them.

My next break after that: Hawaii for little brother’s wedding. I’ll spend two weeks in Hawaii, then a week in Denmark and a week in London to break up the trip. It will be interesting being in Northern Europe in the winter!!

My next break after that: Either Eastern Europe or Spain and Southern France, depending on who can go with me.

My next break after that: well I could go on and on with this!

What I’ve been doing on my Sunday afternoon off: Well, huh. Didn’t have a Sunday afternoon off yesterday because these consultants had me here till 9 PM. I swear I am sleeping in next Sunday!! I missed a picnic trip to Lake Victoria too.

Things I’ve bought lately: Swiss Miss hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, pistachios, dried apricots, instant oatmeal, packets of Hidden Valley Ranch dressing (which turned out to be a huge hit with the rest of the department, so I had to call for reinforcements till we used up the entire African continent's supply of mayonnaise, and that was the end of that) for the dreaded day when I am forced to eat mess food for lunch, a bunch of nice t-shirts, a pretty dress for Tim’s wedding, two cool fancy shirts (where the heck am I going to wear them?!), three pairs of shorts, a buncha pairs of previously nicely coloured underwears which are now that uniform grey colour which happens when you put your clothes in the laundry with a a thousand other people’s filthy clothes, a small globe for my desk, candles, a few books (dad got me a bunch for my birthday and then regretted it as he lugged my suitcase to the car when we packed up to leave for the airport. I said he may as well get his money’s worth out of his upcoming hernia operation). Lots of nice little goodies.

What I’m wearing: My new t-shirts, my new shorts, my old socks ( I wonder if it is a good thing to wear the same socks every second day when you purchased them in 1990….), my new now grey underwear, and my Henty boots.

What my hair looks like: I got it cut pretty nice in California and I could wear it without the pony tail, but apparently I have restless nights because it sure is all over the place in the mornings. Every day it gets appraised to see if it is suitable for wearing without the pony tail, and I think three times now it has behaved itself. It sure is a nuisance in the wind though. It has a life of it’s own and hovers in a mass around my face in even the slightest wind, gets up my nose and makes me sneeze, gets in my eyes, behind my contacts, in my mouth. I dunno how other chicks do it.

Japan

A pachinko parlour in Toba, Japan. There is a tremendous racket in these rooms as you can imagine. The Japanese are not allowed to gamble for cash so the prizes are cartons of cigarettes or prizes or grocery items. Toba is the home of Mikimoto pearls, where the women pearl divers are at. I had read about the pearl divers when I was a kid and was always interested in this place. Dad and I were staying at the top of a very tall hotel in Toba, and there was an earthquake in the night. I won't get up in the middle of the night for nothing except earthquakes. I shook dad awake and ran to the window and opened the curtain to look outside. He wanted to know what I was looking at. The tsunami dad!! No tsunami though.

Japan hardly has the market on ugly shoes but we thought these took the cake. I am sure these appeal to Cailli though!

Apples at $3 each. They had better be packaged up perfectly!

Egypt

Wall carvings at Abu Simbel, Egypt. As the Tanzanians would say, this is too fresh. Safi sana. It looks like it was just done yesterday. Actually I did see workmen in the tombs at the Valley of the Kings, touching up a bit of the artwork with fresh paint. Which doesn't quite fit what I imagine restoration to be all about, but heck, I am only a geologist.

Pillars at Karnak Temple in Luxor, Egypt. You can see some stone slabs lying on top of the pillars, many of them had very (nearly suspiciously) fresh blue and red paint on the undersides. Then again, I suppose that is out of the sun.

Self portrait of Pammie at night time on the three day felucca sail up the Nile. I thought I would be bored, but in fact we didn't want to get off at the end, except to use a proper toilet instead of trying to hide behind the only palm tree on the bank for miles. You soon get used to lazing around doing nothing watching the world go by on a boat.

Vancouver
The Quayside Marina at False Creek along Marinaside Crescent. My building is the second from the left, but my view is along two busy streets, rather than the marina. The building is 36 stories high, I am on the 18th floor.

View of the False Creek high rises around David Lam park. I am standing on the seawall, a walk that goes around nearly the entire downtown area. A real estate investor from Hong Kong bought this whole area after the 1986 Expo for only a few million dollars and developed it into some of Vancouver's most prestigious and highest density housing.

A Spirit Bear outside the Quayside Marina. The bears are a charity project by the Lions or Rotary Club and consist of many duplicate casts of this bear but decorated in different themes and placed all over the city. Like most outdoor art they generate a lot of comment and as usual the few who don't like them are the most vocal. A great number of them are tacky (Darth Vader themes, etc), but they are only on display for the summer and then auctioned off.

The False Creek seabus, seen here in front of Burrard Street Bridge, Granville Street bridge is behind us. These little ferries run up and down False Creek, mainly taking people back and forth to the Granville Island markets.

Boats in Coal Harbour on the north side of downtown Vancouver, which is very nearly an island. My offices are two streets south of the waterfront, not far from here. Coal Harbour is the other most prestigious neighbourhood downtown. There is still quite a lot of development in downtown Vancouver.

What's Been on my Table

Tea and cake in Innsbruck, Vienna, near Easter time. I have no idea why I am drinking tea, perhaps it is later in the day and I am deluding myself that there is less caffeine in it. Note the two free red Easter eggs in the basket. One interesting thing about Easter colours in Europe is that they are not the matte pastel tones we know in North America. I cannot recall if the Australians could be bothered decorating eggs. In Austria and Germany, I noticed that they dyed their eggs a dark rich glossy colour, dark reds, dark blues. Unusual. Maybe it is traditional, maybe fashionable, I am not sure. Our first Easter in Tanzania, we gave chocolate Easter eggs to the Tanzanian engineers who would have been around 35 to 40 years old. We said, these are Easter eggs from the Easter bunny! They said solemnly, "bunnies do not lay eggs".

Sushi in Vienna, Austria. Looks like I also have some prawn tempura in the background and if I recall correctly my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I do remember I was wearing a light pink t-shirt, my favourite work shirt, and I dropped a piece of sushi into my soy sauce plate and it splatted a drop of soy sauce on my shirt, where it burnt a whole through over time. Toxic stuff they serve in Austria. The street that this restaurant was on was lined with Japanese restaurants. The next street over might have several South American restaurants. I thought it was unusual that they would have themed restaurant streets.

A typical banquet dinner in China, this is in Shanghai. I joined a group halfway through their month long tour of China. They were obviously not getting along and dinner time was a very aggressive event, with everyone lunging in and not really sharing. You had to get in quick or you would definitely lose out. This is not the first time I've seen group dinners turn into Lord of the Flies scenes.

Syria

The old Roman town of Palmyra, well known for it's colonnaded streets. This is probably the most famous tourist site in Syria, aside from Damascus and Aleppo.

Gentlemen enjoying shisha at Damascus' oldest cafe, at the Damascus souq. Damascus claims to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. Aleppo down the road also makes the same claim. Shisha is also known as the hookah, water pipe or hubble bubble. There are little embers of coal in the top container, with a block of scented tobacco lain on top. Apple is a popular flavour. Then the gent pulls on the pipe which draws the air down through water. A cafe will supply you with a packaged filter. On a tour everyone is keen to try it, probably because they are hoping it is marijuana, and this is no doubt a leading cause of the colds which sweep through every tour.

You can barely make out Pammie kneeling in the middle of the front row. We saw signs to Baghdad all along the trip so this is no indication that we were very close, still, it is the nearest city to where we were. We stopped here just after visiting the Baghdad Cafe, which is not in Baghdad and does not offer cafe service, but it has been in a movie I think.

Morocco

View from the top of a sand dune near Erg Chebbi, about 30 km from the border with Algiers, on the edge of the Sahara Desert.

Sweets for sale at the souq in Meknes. Meknes is one of four Imperial Cities in Morocco, the others are Rabat which is very near Casablanca, Marrakech, and Fes.

Vats for dyeing leather at the Fes souq. Note that the dyers stand in the dye up to their knees and stamp down the leather to stain it. This surely can't be good for them. There is an overpowering stench around this part of the souq. When you enter the tannery, they hand you a little bouquet of mint to press to your nose, which they call a Moroccan gas mask.

Some of Pammie's Photos

A house on the waterfront in Bergen, Norway. I really like the architecture in Norway. They have the slatted wood siding and interesting paint colours, although many places are painted plain white. They have a famous cheese which they call brown cheese (for obvious reasons), and another common colour for houses is the same colour as this cheese. I mentioned this to someone in Norway and they said they hadn't noticed it before.

Old houses in Zhouzhang, China. Very often the roof tiles in China are circular, and they stack them subvertically like a stack of poker chips laying on their sides. This certainly requires far more tiles to cover a roof than if they were laid flat, so they must do it for decorative reasons.

The interior of the temple at Abu Simbel, in Egypt. It's amazing how fresh the carvings still look after all of this time. I suppose they have been out of the elements. This one shows an offering of lotus flowers I think, to a god.

During the last century the Germans spent a lot of time crowbarring stuff off the walls of historical sites in other countries and reconstructing them in museums back at home. This is at the Ancient Museum in Berlin, and is probably from the Middle East. I suppose they are very good at what they do and would likely save stuff that may have been destroyed or looted otherwise.

An Andy Warhol of Mao at the Modern Art Museum in Berlin. I doubt they crowbarred this off Andy's wall though, perhaps they bought it.

Tanzanian Wildlife

Weaver birds nests in a tree in Tarangire National Park, Tanzania. The male weaver bird builds the nest. His partner inspects it, and if it is not up to scratch, it gets booted out of the tree and the boy bird must try harder. So underneath these trees are good places to look for interesting bush mementos. The weaver bird is a pretty yellow, at least the one I know.

Wildebeest at Ngorogoro Crater National Park in Tanzania. You can see the crater rim in the distance. There is a big ecosystem of animals who live year round in the crater. The wildebeest in Tanzania take part in an annual migration of about 1.5 million animals who follow the rains from Tanzania across the Masai Mara into Kenya, and back again.

Thomson's Gazelles in the afternoon light at the Serengeti.

A lion parked under a safari vehicle in the Serengeti. There are many lion in the Serengeti, so many in fact that after a while one turns to searching for the more elusive cats such as leopard and cheetah. The people in this safari vehicle had parked some distance away from the lion, and he had gotten up to settle into their shade. So they were a bit stuck. They were all Italian and jabbering away non-stop. We watched for quite a long time, then finally left, who knows how long they were stuck there. In Tanzania the tour drivers will go off road and park probably way too close to the animals, which is something they don't do in South Africa.

One of the Reasons People Get Lost in the British Isles

A typical road sign in Ireland, near the Ring O' Kerry. Photo taken out of car window while in the middle of an intersection.

A passage from my diary, November 2001: The next day we drove out of the Cotswolds, past, around, and through Stratford-upon-Avon several times, trying to get through it on our way to Wales, but we kept getting lost. The signage in the UK and Ireland is not good. There are either no signs at all or else there is a single pole bristling with hundreds of placards pointing in every direction, so that you have 2 seconds to read through all of the caravan parks, information centers, bed and breakfasts, and dog grooming parlours before finally finding the highway direction sign. They don’t list the name of the highway, or the direction it is heading (like N, S, E, or W), but instead give the name of one of the towns it might go through, and not necessarily a big town at that. So if we are faced with a decision, Evert has to scan through all of the towns between where we are and where we want to go, to see which town they list on the sign lies in the right direction for us. Needless to say we turned around a lot, and did many many laps of roundabouts, which is handy. They didn’t have many roundabouts in Ireland and we missed them. Evert will be receiving the edited version of this email where he will not read, hopefully, that like most mining engineers (Cailli is an exception!), he has no idea how to read a map, which doesn’t help. Anyway, all of the tourists stop at Avon because it is home to Shakespeare, or his wife was born there or lived there or something, but it holds no appeal to us.

We head towards Wales, which makes navigation even worse because all of the town names have about 45 letters to them, none of them vowels. I have my usual habit of tearing out pages of the guide book with the places I want to visit, which I give to Evert to read and navigate with each day (we also have a normal British road map). Amazingly he cannot find the single pink highlighted Welsh name of the place we want to visit on 4 half pages….despite occasional navigational difficulties we got along pretty well during our month long tour (except for a bit of tension when I scraaaped the rental car against a wall in Dublin!) For lunch we have our worst meal of the trip, one of those freezer patty hamburgers in a deserted pub in a deserted town….but it is very cheap.

There is a distinct affluence gradient between England and Wales, the roads are much narrower and less well maintained in Wales than they are in England. The towns are crowded together, with narrow houses, and what looks like coal coated buildings, although several of the towns have tried to spruce themselves up with multi-coloured paint jobs, but they still look very depressing, old fashioned, and not very prosperous. In California I remember the roofing material made with some kind of coarse sandpaper type material, coated with wet tar, then loose gravel pressed into it. It seemed this place was built with the stuff. Welsh cities just have a Depression Era, unemployment kind of air to them.

We went on an underground tour of the Llechwedd Slate mine, which operated from 1846-1972. The tour was interesting, although they seemed to concentrate more on the life of the miner, and their choir singing more than the actual mining itself, and I couldn’t get either Evert or the guide to explain to me how they did the actual mining…. They had an impressive waste heap though. I was hoping to hear some of the famous Welsh male choirs while I was there, every town and church has one, but I never made the effort to seek one out. Too bad.

Pammie's View at the Opera

The view from my box seat at the Vienna State Opera. Note the black and white thing to the right is the stage curtain, which is a reverse image of the U shaped theatre. Note there is no view of the actual stage floor itself, as you can tell I am very near the top of the theatre.

On my last night in Vienna (March, 2002) I went to the State Opera. I was easily the most underdressed person there, so as soon as I got in the door I yanked off my bright red polar plus beanie and nuclear blue jacket, so I was in black turtleneck and dark pants, hopefully not too dirty. I ascended the grand staircase, found the door to my box seat, stepped into the foyer where we hang our fur coats, but decided to keep my polar plus with me...you never know what sort they let in opera boxe seats these days.

I entered the box itself, which contained seven wooden chairs. I was entranced by the view out the front of the box, which was across to rows of the gilded box seats opposite, and red velvet drapery. Our box had enough room for 9 seats in rows of three, but there were only seven seats, mine was in the last seat, to the right hand side, with the stage itself to the right. I sat down in my seat and looked straight ahead, and realised I was still looking straight out at the box seats opposite. No stage.

I try to find the stage and discover that I can see a wee sliver of it to the extreme bottom right hand side. About 80% of my field of vision is the box seats opposite, about 10% is a narrow sliver of the upper part of the stage curtains, 9.5 % is a view of the back of the other people's heads, and about 0.5 % is the actual stage itself, in the far extreme left hand corner that no one would ever stand in. My mind is churning with thoughts along the lines of...33 naffen bucks to come to the Vienna State Opera and not even be able to see the stage...Geez, you never think to ask the important questions when you're buying tickets, like, will I be able to bloody see anything...

This old dear in front of me tells me there is a little pop up electronic screen on the wall of the box that does the transcript of the words in English and German. I say thanks, and continue in my thoughts...'cuz I ain't gunna be seeing anything else but the back of yer thinnen hair-do, lady. So when the opera starts up, I can just barely see about 8 percent of the stage if I lean my face into the guy to my left, and breathe down the neck of the lady in front of me. Only the smallest shred of decency has restrained these guys from putting a further two chairs in the space to the right of me, which would have absolutely no view at all.

I think, chill baby, just sit back and relax and listen to the music. After a few minutes I can't help but think... well, I could have bought 2 naffen CDs for this price and listened to it over and over and over again...chill, chill, it's live...then after a while I’m thinking, ya know, a 200 year old opera by Wagner called Parsifal is perhaps not ringing big bells of recognition with everyone for a reason. So after enduring an hour and forty five minutes, I naff off at half time.

I did buy the little synopsis so I would know what was going on, plus it gave me something to look at. Apparently this Joseph of Arimathea, and may I digress here a moment, this is the same fellah whose grave I wanted to see in Glastonbury Abbey in England, when I visited in November with Evert, not knowing the slightest thing about him (Joseph, I knew Evert)...after driving for miles to get to the Abbey, and pulling off the stunt reverse parking move of all time in front of numerous amused witnesses, involving perhaps jumping a curb and maybe getting a little too close to a shop window, and presenting myself at the front door of the Abbey, the caretaker says I can’t go in because it closes in a half an hour. I’m stunned. He says come back tomorrow. I say, man I came all the way from Tanzania to see the Abbey, and I’m not going to be here tomorrow. I’m thinking, dude, I can do your church, your gift shop, go to the bathroom, and unpark my car in 20 minutes, just watch, but I’m so annoyed that all I do is skulk away and do a bit of inward seething. Anyway, this Joseph of Arimathea was present at the crucifixion of Jesus, and apparently he travels about with Jesus' dinner set, because he caught the blood from the wound in Jesus' side while Jesus was on the cross, with the cup Jesus used at the Last Supper. This cup of blood and the sword wot poked Jesus were collected and used to start up some brotherhood of dudes who could do great deeds of happiness if they drank this blood. Sounds like some sort of vampire cult. Dunno if this is all supposed to be real or not, anyway this cup is the Grail. I had always wondered what the Grail actually was, I always thought, grail, rail, must be some sort of magic fence spike or somefin. Anyway in the opera there is this big fight over some magic garden, I lose track of the story, and I’m more obsessed with the whole rip off scene with no view of the stage. Thus endeth my four days in Vienna. Hopped an early morning train to Prague, where I am now, but will save that story for later. (Note: I was totally confused here, because Joseph of Arimathea is not buried at Glastonbury, it is King Arthur who is rumoured to be buried there, Joseph of Arimathea was just visiting, with the Holy Grail).

Photos For Will

Hi Will. These are cheetahs at the Serengeti in Tanzania in East Africa. Cheetahs are the fastest mammals in the world. I took this photo from a Landcruiser truck, about 3 metres away from the cheetahs. My window was broken and would not roll up. In case the cheetahs got cranky I had an escape plan (dive into the back seat). The cheetahs are very proud and they looked from left to right but would never look directly at me.

These are called the Terracotta Warriors, and they are in Xi'an, China. They are over 8,000 life size warriors and horses made from clay who were buried with the Chinese Emperor about 1,400 years ago. The Emperor was a famous soldier and he wanted an army to take with him to heaven. You can see in the picture that there are many many soldiers. Then you can see long solid walls. The soldiers were discovered about 25 years ago by a worker digging in China (see what you can dig up in your back garden, maybe you will be surprised too). They were all buried, and now they are still busy digging them back up and standing them up where they were buried. There are all different kind of soldiers, like an archer who uses a bow and arrow, a horseman, a general, and so on. Every single soldier has a different face.

This is a beautiful house in France. In France a very big and nice house is called a chateau. This chateau has a name, it is Azay-le-Rideau. It was built 500 years ago, on the river. It was built by the mayor of Tours (but it was his wife's money). There are many beautiful houses in this part of France, and you can go inside also to see the beautiful furnishings, and walk around the big grassy parks. Hope you enjoyed looking at my pictures Will!

Signs Worth A Double Take

I don't have a particularly dirty mind but I do notice words, and I'm pretty convinced that whoever wrote these signs did them deliberately. This sign appears every year in the Market Square of Wells, before the annual fair. The stone structure to the right is one of the wells in town, from which the city gets it's name. Water is released from the moat around the Bishop's palace, and flows down wide shallow gutters in the High Street.

I passed this sign in Falmouth down in Cornwall.

I think is actually the last photo I ever took in the UK, headlines from our local newspaper.

Meals For A Cast Iron Stomach

I will eat just about anywhere. I do have standards, in fact my best judge of an unknown restaurant, aside from architecture which I am a sucker for but has never served me well as an indicator of food quality (and choosing hairdressers by architecture is also a bad move, I speak from experience here), is the number and type of people inside the establishment in question. So, a lot of tourists in a cafe at the edge of a square in Vienna, Rome, Venice, Brussells, in a menu with three different language translations? No way. A place completely empty? No way. A place packed with locals on a side street? Yes please! I eat ice in Mexico, and street food in Thailand (in fact all over the world), but the one place pretty much guaranteed to give me food poisoning will be McDonald's. Usually a look into the kitchen is an experience to be avoided in the rougher establishments. What you don't know, won't kill you, or at least put you off your meal. The meal above is being prepared by the captain of the felucca which sailed us for three days up the Nile in Egypt.

Schwarmas for lunch next to the Pyramids in Cairo, Egypt. These were actually pretty nice and didn't make me sick. This was my first meal with my tour group who I would spend two weeks with. Our guide gave us a choice: a sit down restaurant at about $5 or a stand up lunch at this place for about $2. My group unanimously chose this place, based on price alone, which filled me with dread, because I knew I was dealing with a crowd where food quality meant nothing, and price everything.

Bread rolls for sale in Aswan, Egypt. I am not sure what distance the bread travelled to get there, because there is no bakery nearby. There is certainly no barrier between bread and fly and dirt and child and sneeze and dust and donkey tail.

Safari Photos

Giraffes checking us out in the Serengeti, Tanzania. Myself, Peter, and Evert were the first people from Bulyanhulu to go on safari so our photos were distributed throughout the mine. This one was a favourite wallpaper for a lot of people. Giraffes are the totem of Tanzania, the Swahili word is twiga.

A mother rhino on the left and the baby rhino on the right, at the rhino sanctuary outside of Johannesburg. I spent quite a lot of time very close to these two, until someone came racing up in a car behind me and scared them away.

Impala at the Kruger Park, South Africa. I have been to the Kruger Park three times now and have always had better wildlife experiences elsewhere. But it's just a matter of being at the right place at the right time. There are an awful lot of impala at the Kruger Park.

A springbok at the Kalahari National Park in South Africa. The western border of Botswana runs north- south here along the edge of the road. The springbok is the totem of South Africa, and they are famous for making weird little vertical jumps called pronking.

A family of warthogs at the rhino reserve outside of Johannesburg, South Africa. They cannot reach the grass without bending their knees, so they must always kneel when they eat. Rean once invited me to a warthog BBQ. I was hoping to see the tusks and the head, unfortunately it was already pretty well trimmed by the time I got there and it barely looked like a warthog on the spit. I didn't eat any, since it took way too long to cook, and pammie's stomach doesn't wait for any warthog. You don't want to rush this kind of meat, I think.

More Lunches

Lunch in Damascus, Syria. Every day for two weeks while I travelled through Jordan and Syria, I tried to scoff as much baba ganough and hummous as physically possible, breakfast lunch and dinner if available. The food was much better in Syria than it was in Jordan. In fact Syria is much more hip and organised than Jordan, which is surprising considering it's meant to be an axis of evil. They have a boycott of American goods but seem to be doing reasonably well, although I think it's funny that they only accept American dollars for all the American liquor they sell at the duty free... The difference between Jordan and Syria is immediate as you cross the border. What was desert nothingness in Jordan quickly changes to irrigated crops and nut trees in Syria. For my lunch you can see many slices of pita bread and a freshly squeezed orange juice with a nifty foil cap on top to keep the flies away, although they weren't generally a problem. The top of the dips are decorated with drizzled olive oil, sprinkles of paprika, and tomato and cucumber slices.

Lunch in Swellendam, my favourite town in South Africa. This restaurant is owned by a slightly crazy old lady with short nearly crew cut hair and a headband who prides herself on her menu, a single page which reads "take it or leave it". She gives you a little bit of everything and you ask for seconds of what you liked the best. On the plate is ox tongue with mustard sauce, sliced kudu steak, sauteed wild mushrooms which she had picked herself (hmm, maybe that explains her behaviour) and had passed around to the guests to inspect prior to cooking, sauteed potatoes, and stewed beef in the pot.

Salamanca ham at the Museo de Jamon, a popular chain restaurant specialising in cured hams in Madrid, Spain. The blue booklet is the menu. They put bread on the table even if you don't want it and you are charged for it no matter whether you eat it or not. This is a common trick in Spain and Italy, and since I never eat the rolls, nowadays I go out of my way to tear it to pieces so they can't recycle it on another customer.

More Places of Worship

The tomb of Moulay Idriss, in the town of the same name, Morocco. Mr Idriss is is the founder of Islam in Morocco and the grandson of the prophet Mohammed, and so this site is on the pilgrimage list for Muslims around the world. He died in 791 AD. It was an interesting little town perched on top of a pointy hill with white buildings clinging to the hillside and tiny twisting laneways very similar to the Greek Isles in architecture and design.

The interior of Omayyad Mosque, Damascus, Syria, during prayers. I was very surprised that we were allowed inside at this time. The women who you see here are at the back of the mosque and the men are at the front, to prevent the men from being distracted from their prayers by the sight of a woman. They don't necessarily face east, they face towards Mecca. The white stone wall to the right is a tomb which apparently contains the head of John the Baptist. Religious body parts are sprinkled throughout the Islamic world. This is one of the largest and oldest mosques in the world.

The Hassan II mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. Casablanca has about 3.5 million people in it, by the way, according to my four year old guide book. The mosque holds 25,000 worshippers, lies over 22 acres, has an electronically sliding roof the size of a football field that opens to ventilate it during prayer, and cost $800 million to build, all donated by the people of Morocco (else it would have been taxes, right?). It is the third largest mosque in the world.

Bureks in Kosovo

I’m staring out the taxi window in Prishtina when I see a sign on a café window listing "burek" along with hamburger, hotdog, etc. I start to wonder whether a burek is the same thing my parents used to make when I was little, which we pronounced bure-rocks, and are similar to meat pies: plain pastry with a filling of minced meat, cabbage, maybe some carrots, and other stuff folded into a round pocket. I ask our liaison guy what the word burek means, and it turns out they are the same thing. He tells me that I can find the best bureks in town at a place not far from our hotel. I can’t wait to try a burek maybe not far from their origin.

So on Saturday I go to the burek place for lunch. I see a sign out the front saying bureketore, which in my mind would have to be the chosen land for bureks, kind of like hamburgerlandia. I step into the small café and despite an upbringing of "please wait to be seated" signs at most restaurants, I do the European thing and sit straight down at a table. The waiter comes up to me and I ask for a burek. He asks which kind meat, cheese, spinach, hamburger. Unspecified "meat" products are always to be avoided and since the ones I remember from my childhood are the minced hamburger meat ones, I ask for hamburger.

I am not sure which size the bureks are, and since I am hungry I ask the waiter what size they are, in case they are small maybe I will order two. He says normal size. I say, well, I am not sure what is normal size. Are they small, medium, or large? He stares at me dumbly. To assist with comprehension, I make a small round burek shape with my hands and ask small? He stares at me. I make a medium size round burek shape with my hands and ask medium? He stares at me. I make a very big sized round burek shape with my hands and ask large? He stares at me. I do them in succession: small, medium, big? He stares at me. I can’t help myself, so I sit there and quickly do small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big, small, medium, big…..different speeds, different sizes…he finally turns away and leaves.

Five minutes later he comes up with a plate with a hamburger and fries on it.
Agh!!!

This guy is way too dense to go into non-English sign language discussions about the differences between a "hamburger" and a "burek", so I eat my hamburger and leave. And it wasn’t even good!

For Sale

Snails for sale in the Fes souq. Now how could you possibly use a scoop to collect a mass of live snails? Argh! I suppose the first step would be to pick all the snails off it first. There were a lot of escapees squashed underfoot nearby.

A hedgehog intended for medicinal purposes at the Fes souq. I always thought hedgehogs would make great car wash brushes. I don't even want to think about how you would process one of these guys for traditional medicine.

A turban seller at Mopti port in Mali. I rarely wear turbans but I bought the bright purple one because it was a beautiful colour, and because the guy had posed for my photograph. In fact later on when we were travelling through the dusty desert to Timbuktu it would have been nice to have a scarf to keep the dust off, but these turbans were still stiff with fresh dye and other unknown and no doubt unsavoury liquids, and it was too hot anyway. We arrived in Timbuktu so dusty that it took two washings to get the dust out of my hair. I have a little black band I use to tie my hair back, which I dropped on the white bathmat while having a shower. I stepped on it on the way out of the shower, and when I picked up the band, there was a perfectly round red dust circle left behind on the mat. I think that's time to change the hair band.

Market fresh chapulines (grasshoppers) at the Oaxaca markets, Mexico. I suppose they must raise them in tanks, otherwise harvesting these little guys out in the fields would take forever. They are fried and served with chile and lime. Grasshoppers are an ancient Aztec dish, and have been on the menu for 3000 years.