assisi

The view from Mom, Dad and Mallory's cottage window on Sunday morning.
Our cottage is in the bottom right of the photo.

The next morning was Sunday, so we decided there'd be no better place to attend Mass than the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi.  One of the best things about the cottages we rented was its proximity to so many cool small towns in the Umbrian and Tuscan countryside, and we reached Assisi in less than an hour.

After Mass we ate lunch at a little trattoria, then spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the maze of Assisi.  We drove down from the beautiful town on the hill to its outskirts in a futile search for gelato, then headed back to our villa for the evening.

Looking up on the Basilica from the outskirts of Assisi

All the cool air and walking wore Mom and Dad out, so Mallory, Joey and I played cards and drank wine.  A little later Joey whipped up the first of many fabulous meals. 

Click here for all of my pictures from our first two days in Italy

reunited and it feels so good

I've been so blessed to share many amazing travel experiences over the last year with my best friend, and in late January I was lucky enough to share a trip to Italy with my family too.  My mom, dad, and sister, Mallory, met Joey and me at the airport in Rome and I'm pretty sure they were almost as excited to see us as they were to return to Italy.  Sadly, my other sister, Elizabeth, wasn't able to join us, although we kept her with us in spirit as we spent the next ten days touring the Italian countryside.

We'd arranged to meet my family at the Advantage rental car desk.  Unfortunately, we didn't realize that half of the reason we got such a good deal on the rental car was because Advantage is located off-site, so the first hour of our trip to Italy was spent running in circles, searching for the rental car desk and each other.  Joey and I decided to get the car - maybe my family had somehow managed to find the shuttle to the rental car station even though we couldn't figure that out without calling the phone number on the confirmation sheet - if they weren't there, we'd drive back to the airport and try to find them.

So we got the car and with no sign of my family headed back to the airport.  We parked the car in short-term parking and started walking toward the terminal in which my family had landed and I heard a familiar whistle - about fifty yards away Mallory and Dad stood waving.  Poor Mom had been placed in a different location to try to find Joey and me, so the four of us went back to the car and drove as close as we could to where she was waiting.  We decided to send Dad to get her, and they returned together about fifteen minutes later.  We exchanged more big hugs and set off for our home for the next eleven days: Umbertide (pronounced Oom-bear-tee-day).

How did people manage without cell phones?

We spent the next three hours in the car catching up, laughing and excitedly discussing our plans for the trip (which was more like Joey'd recruited three other people to make fun of my Excel vacation itineraries and European death marches).  We exited the main highway and as we twisted and turned according to the lovely voice of our friend, Garmin, we all wondered how people managed without GPS (it's interesting how we travel to Italy for the splendor of Roman history only to appreciate the convenience of today's technology).  But with the help of the Garmin and the directions from the caretakers, we managed to find Casa San Gabriel.

We pulled up to the villa in the valley where we'd rented two cottages as the sun set, casting a brilliant red and orange hue over the mountains, cypress trees and ancient stone hamlets that surrounded us.  After dropping off our suitcases, we all piled back in the car and headed back into town to stock up on groceries and eat dinner.

Taking Joey into a grocery store in Italy is like taking a kid to a candy store; I imagine trying to pry a child away from the shiny and colorful sweets is like trying to pry my husband away from the meat and cheese counters.  But one hour and massive cart-full of groceries later, we finally escaped.  We drove back toward our villa, spotting a sign for Pane e Vino, and figured it'd be worth a try.  The restaurant was located in what appeared to be a deserted industrial park, but it looked like it had character and so we went inside.  We found a huge roaring pizza oven, bookshelves full of wine and white tablecloths.  Perfect!  We immediately ordered wine and pizza and pasta too, and spent the rest of the evening eating, drinking, and enjoying each other's company.

What should have been an uneventful drive back to Casa San Gabriel became far more interesting when Joey unknowingly turned the wrong way on a one-way road.  Although we didn't encounter any cars along the way, we did have a hell of a time getting up the hill.  Apparently the route to the villa from the highway is one-way because the incline is so steep; with the sharp drop-off looming precariously only a few feet away from where our wheels were spinning, I was truly afraid enough that I got out of the car.  Mallory and Mom soon followed, then Dad took the wheel and Joey got behind and pushed.  I was fairly certain I was watching my father kill my husband, but Dad got the car up the hill and around the corner, albeit not without a few jokes about the size of our asses or the capability of my husband.

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zanzibar

Saturday morning we all piled in the Landcruiser with Ibrahim one last time.  In the middle of nowhere, he abrubtly stopped the car and said, “I have to go see a friend.”  He got out of the car and we all looked at each other and around the car – there wasn’t a soul in sight.  Who in the world could he need to see?  Then as Ibrahim walked behind a bush it became apparent that he just needed to relieve himself.  We laughed even harder when he came back to the car and told us, “He wasn’t there.”

Ibrahim dropped us off at the small Arusha airport, where Steve, Angela and I munched on French fries and Joey devoured a cheeseburger.   We all had a few beers and some Dramamine in anticipation of our flight.  Soon the gate agent collected us from the bar and took us through the small security area and out to the tarmac.  We walked to our itty-bitty, 12-passenger, propeller plane and I said a Hail Mary.

Walking to our plane. Oh God.

The pilot turned around and asked all the passengers to please not take pictures during take-off and landing because he had been hit in the head with a camera too many times.  Then he turned on his Garmin.  I said another.

The air in the cabin was stuffy and hot and once the wheels were up it felt as flimsy as a paper airplane.  Luckily the beer and the Dramamine knocked me out before a full-blown anxiety attack kicked in, and I woke up over the electric blue of the Indian Ocean.  It got even hotter in the plane before we landed in Zanzibar, but we landed so I didn't care that I'd almost soaked my shirt and my thighs were chaffing like crazy. 

Bargaining.  It's his new favorite sport.

A different representative from the safari company picked us up from the Zanzibar airport and drove us to Stone Town.  At first glance Stone Town is dirty, dilapidated, and oppressively hot and humid, but the warmth of the people and the eclectic Arab, Persian and Indian architecture quickly charms its visitors.  We spent the next two days wandering the little alleyways, visiting the markets and the famous Forodhani Gardens for fresh-caught seafood, admiring the impressively carved doors, eating some truly delectable meals and delighting in marvelous sunsets (both for the colors and the reprieve from the staggering heat).   Angela and I bonded over pedicures, we shopped and Joey entertained himself by bargaining for everything we bought.  One shopkeeper got so frustrated with my husband he threw his calculator across the alley.  Another asked him, “How long have you been in Stone Town?”  When Joey replied that he lived in Nigeria, the shopkeeper replied with an understanding, “Ooooooh.”  

Here's the link for all of my Stone Town pictures.

Monday morning we met our tour guide again for our transfer to the beach and stopped for a tour of a spice plantation along the way.  The young boy who climbed a fifty-foot coconut tree with his feet tied together and a knife in his mouth yet somehow managed to sing all the way was definitely the highlight.  Our guide told us all Zanzibarians learn how to climb the coconut trees, but once they turn 26 they may not climb anymore.  He also told us that Zanzibarian men may not eat nutmeg because they believe it makes them more prone to father daughters than sons.  And then he told us that he had always really wanted to marry a white woman, so he found his wife on the internet.  But not until he'd "dated" 180 white women from the internet first.  Many women flew to Zanzibar to meet him, but he sent them all away, especially the one with the club foot.  He saw her from afar and told his driver to tell her he was out of the country.  #youcan'tmakethisshitup.  

Here are all my Spice Tour photos.

We parted with Angela and Steve since we had separate beach accommodations and settled into a lazy and relaxing routine of not doing a whole lot of anything for the next five days.  The drastically changing tides, brazen red monkeys and many a book kept us entertained.  The seaweed and coral that surrounded our beach made it a little difficult to wander, but at low tide we were able to find our own tiny island paradise at a sand bank in the dazzling aquamarine waters.  Our last morning we commissioned a local fisherman named Captain Roger to take us out on his tiny little sailboat.  What a wonderful week.  

Only a few hours after our morning sail in the Indian Ocean we had dinner in Addis Ababa.  We tried a different traditional restaurant and chowed on the vegetarian sampler platter with lamb tibs.  The next morning it was back to real life when we boarded our flight to Abuja.

And of course, for the last of our pictures from Zanzibar and Addis, just click on their names.   

our last day of safari

We began our last day of safari on Friday with a long, jostling drive full of hairpin turns to the floor of the Ngorongoro Crater.   The cold mist that surrounded us only contributed to the ethereal feeling inside the caldera.  It felt like we had driven into The Land Before Time.  We passed herds of buffalo and wildebeest and zebra and elephant.  We watched while hyenas and lions hunted and saw two rare black rhinos in the distance.  We even faced an elephant on the road!  He was very clearly not going to yield, so we did.  As our car slowly reversed through the bush, the elephant steadily stomped toward us, and it was so.  cool.

Staring down another vehicle

We drove back up to the rim of the crater for a walk along a muddy with an armed ranger who pointed out different flowers and plants and explained their uses.  I trudged through the buffalo-poop-covered trail and lamented to Joey that my nature quota had been filled about two days earlier and all I wanted to do was go shopping.  He reminded me with a smile that I was the one who planned the trip. 

We returned to our lovely room at the Ngorongoro Farm House for one more night, where we took advantage of the fireplace in our room and built a huge, roaring, romantic fire. 

For pictures from the last day of our safari, click here.

safari day 4

After the thunderstorms outside our tent lulled us to sleep, we woke to a gloomy morning.   Thursday, our fourth day of safari, we headed back from where we came, all the way back through the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Conservation Areas.  Along our route we stopped at a boma, or miniature village, of one of the Masai tribes that live in the area.

We were greeted with the traditional song and dance of the Masai; the men stand apart from the women, but the harmony they create with their voices together is both beautiful and haunting.  Then a member of the tribe, the son of the chief (who can have up to 20 wives, so sorry dude, not really such a huge honor), took us into the village and one of the grassy, mud huts where they sleep.  He explained that their diet consists entirely of the cows and goats they raise, including the blood, which they drink with the milk.  Apparently the excess intake of iron is why their teeth look like this:

Sidenote: After much thought, I’ve decided to go ahead and post my pictures of these people.  Not only are they beautiful photos from a noteworthy experience, but we also paid a significant fee to tour the boma and were given explicit permission to take photographs.   I found it rather awkward to even take the photos at first, but when I showed my subjects their images they always responded with big, toothy smiles.  Therefore, I believe the privilege to take pictures for which we paid also extends to the privilege to post the same photos to my blog.  Additionally, there is no other personally identifiable information and if you think you’ll be able to find these semi-nomadic people in the middle of the Tanzanian bush based off a photo, good luck.

Anyway, after the tour, we were given the opportunity to ask questions and shop the jewelry made by the women of the tribe.  I found a bracelet for me and a necklace for O.  Joey bought an ebony club after learning that is what the Masai warriors use to kill the lions which attack their herds.

After a long day in the car and a minor accident (Ibrahim accidentally careened the vehicle into the embankment – it was rainy and he was going a little too fast, but we’re all fine.  Joey says he broke his toe but I’m pretty sure he’s fine), we checked into our last safari lodge.  Another beautiful property, the Ngorongoro Farm House is located on a working coffee plantation and has the best coffee I’ve ever tasted in my life.  The views were almost as good as the coffee.

Click here for all of my pictures from Day 4 of our safari

safari day 3

Our early morning game drive started out slow.  The early morning drizzle turned into a light rain and after driving for over an hour we'd only seen a rabbit, an aardvark and few ostriches.  Then our guide spotted a cheetah (no pun intended).  We drove near to where she stood and listened while she emitted short, high-pitched cries for her fellow cheetahs.  Our clumsy vehicle followed her graceful figure as she searched, and we were all rewarded when she led us to the two other cheetahs.

After thoroughly exhausting our cameras on the cheetahs, we noticed a cluster of safari vehicles in the near distance.  We joined the other vehicles to inspect what they'd found: a rare type of hyena/jackal, called an aardwolf, and her cub.  They were adorable!  As we watched the baby aardwolf flail and climb all over it's mother we decided we'd found Moe's long lost ancestors.

The sun came out on the way back to the camp for breakfast, and we came across the coolest thing yet: an entire pride of lions, luxuriating on a sandbank under the sun. They were also surrounded by safari vehicles, but they didn't seem to care.  This was their jungle, and they knew it.  We stopped and watched while they gingerly crossed the thin stream - even the king of cats didn't like the water!

Reluctantly we pulled ourselves away from the lions to go eat, then happily packed our bags and left the camp. The rest of the day was spent traversing the Serengeti, where we were lucky enough to see a leopard  (supposedly the hardest member of the Big Five to find) and a lion in a tree (though not the same tree).

Our digs that night were a significant improvement over the night before, albeit still in a tent to which we were escorted by a bow-and-arrow-wielding Masai warrior.  This tent, however, was attached to a gorgeous outdoor stone shower and had a mosquito net fit for Cleopatra.  It was lovely and we slept like babies.

Click here for all of my pictures from our third day of safari

camping

I've never been much for camping.  My first memory of camping is in my grandparents' pop-up trailer parked in their driveway.  I was about eight years old and it was also the first (and probably last) time I ever had Mellow Yellow.  I made it until about 2 am when I called my mom and begged her to come get me.

Then came summer camp.  I cried my eyes out the first three days.  Looking back, I'm pretty sure it was because I missed my nice clean bathroom and longer-than-3-minute-showers.  (Just kidding, Mom.)

Even in college, camping consisted of hanging out at the campsite until late in the night and then driving home to pee in a real toilet and sleep in a bed above the ground.

So when I was planning this safari and the travel agent told me the only place available in our budget in the area where I wanted to stay (to catch the Great Migration.  Of course I would sign up to go camping and then it wouldn't rain all year and the animals would go somewhere else) was actually a tented camp, I was skeptical.  But I figured since the website said it had toilets and hot showers, it was only one night (I hadn't taken into account how bad the place in Moshi would be) and it'd be an adventure.  

How much of an adventure I didn't realize until we read the rules.

The giant tarp which held our beds was partitioned into four parts: a bedroom, a sink/dressing room enclave, a toilet and a shower.  The toilet, flanked by wooden boards, flushed twice - total - and in order to get hot water, two men stood outside the tarp and poured a fire-heated bucket into the shower nozzle.  It was more slime than water and which left me wishing for a shower after my shower.  I tried to tell myself it probably had really good anti-aging qualities.

Then there were the lions.

Joey caught a cold, and the poor guy had been sniffling and sneezing all day.  Normally this translates to a lot of snoring at night.  After we were escorted back to our tent for bed by the African tribesman, Joey heard a noise.  With big eyes he looked at me and asked, "Did you hear that?"  I shrugged it off and fell into a light sleep.  At one point what I thought was Joey's snores roused me, and I told him, apparently loudly enough for Angela and Steve in the next tent to hear, to roll over.

It wasn't Joey snoring.  It was a lion.  Which is why Angela and Steve were awake to hear me hollering. 

We had an early drive the next morning to see the nocturnal predators returning from the hunt, and at 5:30 am we sat in the dark with our coffee while we waited for our driver.  Joey, Angela and Steve said a lion had kept them up all night, but I didn't believe them.  Then the lion roared again, closer this time, and I apologized to Joey for complaining about his snoring.

Click here for all of my pictures from day two of our safari.