What is a Collective Noun for Gay Men?

Saturday was a kickback day. I wanted to catch up on some things and we had another social event planned to the evening. After Friday’s marathon walk, we needed to do less for a day. 

One problem we had was the ATM machine in Miami spit out $50 bills, causing us problems getting them broken here. As our neighbor Howard explains, you give them a $10 note for a tab of $5.60 and their face scrunches as they ask “Don’t you have anything smaller?” We were stuck with two $50 bills. Some problem, right? 

Mike suggested we go across the street to a money change place to see if they would change it. Ron went, but they wanted a passport, which he did not have on him. Going up three flights of stairs and coming back down again was not an option on Marathon Friday. Of course, on Saturday, the place is closed. 

Where oh where were we going break this? We needed coffee beans, but knew the coffee roasting guy would not be able to make change. Off we went to the grocery store called TIA. Though it means aunt in Spanish, it really is an acronym for a corporation. We bought just enough to get by: eggs, broccoli,

and butter. When I handed over Ulysses S. Grant, the male cashier’s face turned into some character from the TV show Grimm. He looked at me with disgust and said “No change!” I opened my wallet and said “No mas dinero.” This was like show down at OK Corral. Who was going to fold first? I waited for him to make a decision. Finally, his hunched shoulders slackened and he yelled for someone to rescue him. A young woman arrived, took Grant and held him to the light. She looked at our changeling, while nodding her head. He opened his draw and gave me change from the copious amount of $20s and $10s in his draw.

Carting a few groceries, we continued to our grinder man. Ten feet from this café, it started to sprinkle. This is the place where we were held captive last Saturday. We wondered if this was a déjà vu moment. After a delightful espresso and our bag of beans, we were off. 

Dear and darling, Howard Wood and Mike Frohling were thoughtful enough to include us in their plans for a “Boys Night Out”. A group of their friends and friends of their friends has periodic group events. We understand the last one was a bowling night. Thankfully, we missed that one. I can only handle so much humiliation. Tonight’s event was dinner at Césares Internazionale Restaurant located at Tarqui 9-61 between Bolivar and Gran Colombia. 

We knew there were to be about 22 men all together. This caused me to think what collective noun has been coined for a group of gay men. Hmm… a group of geese is a gaggle, for flamingos it is flamboyance, and for critics it is a shrivel. A group of men is called a band, but that just does not do justice to gay men. Having to look it up, an ensemble is the word for a group of homosexuals. As very dramatic sounding as it is, homosexual is such a clinical term. For gay men, I want to coin the collective noun as exquisite. A group of gay men is exquisite. 

However prior to dinner, their friends George and Chad offered a pre-dinner cocktail hour at their place on Primero de Mayo. We had no idea what was forthcoming. It was a mind-blowing experience on so many levels. 

We had to take a taxi; George and Chad live a walkable distance away, but it was raining again. This lovely modern building had a security guard at the front desk where Howard signed us in.

After taking the elevator to the fifth floor, the top of the building we entered their entry hall where we discovered there were already 12 men chatting and drinking cocktails. Without any of the attitude or game playing so often encountered, each and every one of these men embraced us with introductions. Again, the warm welcoming demeanor took me aback not only how they reacted to Ron and I, but to each other. Not everyone there knew everyone there. Feelings of a platonic love fest were one of the thoughts that ran through my mind. 

Besides having an exquisite apartment with the most spectacular view, two complete walls of the living room are glass. There are no obstructions for the view. What is even

more jaw-dropping is the wraparound balcony that covers 1,200 square feet. Never in my life have I seen a balcony like that connected to someone’s apartment. Chad and George were the perfect hosts who made the best guacamole I have ever tasted.  

Mike Frohling, Howard Wood, Ron and Ryan

George called and ordered a small fleet of taxis to whisk us all away to the restaurant. Groups of men started down in the elevator. When Ron and I squeezed in the elevator had reached its capacity, refusing to move. We waited for the next lift to arrive. When we reached the front door, everyone was gone. They had all taken off in taxis. Two more taxis arrived, but we did not know the address of the restaurant and our driver had no clue based on the name alone. A little quick thinking was in order. Our cocktail hosts were last to leave to lock up. I went up to get them while Ron waited downstairs. We made it to the restaurant.

For as large a group as we were, there was only one server who had to double behind the bar. The meals arrived one at a time, but somehow we all had hot meals. Dinner was superb. I enjoyed the jalapeño chicken while Ron savored the tomato garlic sea bass.

As I was looking around and remembering the pairs of men we met, almost all of them have been together for 10 years or more and most have married their spouse. Another observation was the age range. I do not think anyone was younger than 45 years old and the ages progressed into the 70s.  When you think about it, this makes sense for people expatriating. You need to have made your money first if you are going to move to a new country to retire. That said though, there were a few couples who have created businesses here as well. The fortunate few! 

We finally parted for home around 9:30 pm floating on Cloud 9. This social activity is going to make the rest of our Ecuador travels pale by comparison. 

Pin It Now!

Saint Coemgen Joins the Banking Issue

Saint Coemgen states:The reason why only a drivers license was considered valid ID and not the passport is because they wanted to verify that you actually lived in the US State where you claimed having an address. Passports do not have address information so would not work. And for the same reason, even if you had a Hungarian drivers license, that would not have worked either. Long term US expats have the most difficulty when they keep ties to the US, especially in banking. The simple truth is the US Banking system is not international friendly for private bank holders that live abroad. If I want to do an international money transfer to a US bank account from my European account, I can go on-line and make the transfer with a web browser. Some US banks may allow such e-banking also, but my US bank never did (still doesn't today for personal accounts). If I wanted to do an international transfer of money from my US bank account I always had to go into the bank and fill out a paper form and sign it.

BN Follow-up: We have successfully had online banking with Bank of America since we left the US in 2001. They even send our paper statements to our Hungarian address. However, we did have an issue as Saint Coemgen stated regarding transferring money here. When we wanted to buy our apartment, they did insist we would have to come into a branch office to sign the paperwork. After a number of calls explaining why that would not work, they agreed to allow us to have the papers notarized at the US Embassy. That solved the problem. Since then, we have transferred money for a second apartment without a hassle.

Unfortunately, we no longer have a driver's license in any of the US states. We don't have one in any country of the world, either.

Back to the original issue, I thought the Plan B would be to use credit cards as ATM cards if emergency cash was needed because of ATM card theft. This is what I discovered.

If was ironic, but I called Bank of America to see if they had a pre-paid debit card. The rationale being  we have accounts there. The auto response telephone system asked for my ATM card number and stated “If you don’t have it handy, say ‘Wait’.” I did say "Wait" and went to look for it. I have not used it for about a year and I could not find it where I keep all the other cards I don’t want filling my wallet.

When I returned to the phone, there was an live agent on the line saying "Hello, hello" and I told her what happened. She asked if I needed my card canceled and have a new card issued. I said it seems that I did, even if this was not the reason for calling.

We never accomplished anything with the pre-paid card, but when I went back to the bedroom where I had spread all the cards over the bed, I spotted the B of A ATM card. In my memory it was still blue, but the latest version is red. Too late! She told me the card would be voided immediately if I said I needed a replacement.

I called Chase Visa to see what would happen IF I had a $500 credit on the card, but then took a cash advance. My thinking was to circumvent the system, but they had another brick wall in place. Even if I had OVERpaid the credit card by $500, when I took out cash from an ATM, there is a 3% or $10 fee, whichever is higher AND they assess interest at 19.28% for the next TWO billing cycles. I was furious!!

We have two accounts here in Hungary. One is strictly for the business and the other is our travel account. It is the travel account card that I am afraid to lose, thus wanting a back-up to have on hand. B of A charges $5 for every ATM withdrawal, so I was hoping to save some money. The other cards charge $2-3. My other concern is that if I had to report my Hungarian card lost or stolen, it would be impossible. Each time we go in the bank they have to get the one and only employee, who speaks English, away from whatever he does in the back area to come to help us. Calling the bank from abroad would be hell.

Pin It Now!

Don't Bank on It

Our friend and former tenant Jeff left me his ATM card to pay his remaining bills. He taught where I teach, but quite honestly, I never really pay attention to when we get paid as in the specific date of the month.

I decided I had better go to OTP, the bank where he has his account to check his balance and withdraw what I could to pay some of the overdue bills with whatever was there. Every ATM machine I have ever been to here in Hungary always gives the option for English on the main menu. None of the three machines in the lobby of this branch of the bank were bilingual. All instructions were in Hungarian only, making this the first time that I have EVER come across this.

When I went inside, the look on my face alerted the guard's attention. He barely spoke English, but understood my needs and came to the lobby to assist. Turning his back so I could put in the PIN code, he then hit different buttons hoping for a magical combination to create an English menu. Neither magic nor English were in the cards. He called me inside and took a number from the machine on my behalf; it was 201. Number 199 was on the board, so I thought it wouldn't take too long. As I am waiting for my number to come up, I am sitting there thinking about what I should tell the person who helps me. There were flashes of Jeff being tossed from the electric company for trying to pay a bill that was not in his name. Here I am trying to access a bank account not in mime. Fear that they would decide to take the card from me or worse, having me hauled off for robbery were vivid images flashing through my mind.

Number 200 was called to step forward, followed by 202, 203, 204, but not 201. After a 25 minute wait, the rehearsed story melted from my mind due to the heat while waiting. The bank is not air conditioned. When faced with the person who was to aid me, I blabbered that I needed to check the balance for my brother-in-law since he was in the US; I had to pay his bills. Why brother-in-law? I was feeling good today, so telling them he was something more age appropriate like my son or nephew would have mentally aged me momentarily. Hadn't I suffered enough already?

For now, I only needed his balance, I explained. The bank teller said that if it were my account, she could tell me from her computer, but since this was the case, she would have to show me on the ATM machine how to check the balance. Her explanation was that the ATM assumes that if you have an account at this bank that you speak Hungarian. Wow!! What a statement.

Still getting money out was still not an option. She pointed to the button I needed, but it even took her 2 tries to get it correct. She pressed what she said was “more services” first, but it didn't include balances. I was pleasantly surprised to see she couldn't operate the machine either.

If I hadn't forgotten my phone on the charger, I would have the translator app with me. I went back home to look up all the OTP branches so I could find one by the apartment as well as the nearest post office. After grabbing the phone and making a list of all the words in Hungarian for “withdrawal”, I set out for the apartment, checked the mail for any more bills, and then I crossed the street to the OTP bank. Curses, there is only 1 machine with a line of four already waiting.

Once it was my turn, there was a crowd behind me like a run on the bank. Not one option on the screen looked like any of the words I had on my translation list. More people joined the line making me nervous. I could imagine them ganging up on me if I took too long, like the angry villagers in Frankenstein. After the 2nd try I gave up. The sweat was poring down my face, not all due to the heat. As I was leaving, I realized that I could use the damn card at the CIB bank. The only reason I kept trying OPT was to save Jeff a $1. in ATM charges. I said ‘screw the transaction fee’. At the CIB machine I easily withdrew the funds. By this time I had random numbers, equations, and abstract mathematical formulas running all through my head, so I had forgoten how much I needed to take out.

There is a very convenient posta on Ferenc korut just a block away. It only took about 5 minutes to get through the line to get all the bills paid that I had with me. With a sense of satisfaction, I went home where I was greeted by Ron who said, "Jeff's latest electric bill just came in today's mail."

Related articles

• One Reason To Be Paranoid At The ATM
• Now, Withdraw cash on ATM using only Mobile [Video]
• Another Bank Of America Insult -- Fewer ATMs
• 13 Ways To Protect Your Atm Card Against Fraud
• ATM Software Glitches Abused, 19 People Charged with 197 Counts of Theft

Pin It Now!

I Give You a Very Good Price - $1.00

Our hotel in Antigua is delightful. There are only about fourteen rooms; ours has a view of the volcano and the neighbor’s lovely garden below. At first, I thought the walls were strangely painted by children, but later in the day, I noticed that this must be a style here. Our room walls look like the plaster was steamed with moisture when painted creating streaked color with lots of white showing through. It is childlike, minimalistic, simplistic, and charming all in one.

Breakfast is not included here, but there is free tea, instant coffee, and local bread-type items to munch on when you crawl downstairs. We are both sore and crawling takes more flexibility than either of us are feeling today. So much for Pilates and yoga lessons before we left. 

However, there is a city to be seen. Most of the buildings are only 2 floors and they all look alike with the exception of colors. Once you leave the hotel, it is necessary to recognize landmarks to find your way back. At the end of our street is a psychologist and massage therapist: head and body care. Less than a block is the cathedral making a complete package.

 

One of our first chores was to get money. Everyone loves American dollars, but in reality you lose since the exchange rate changes all of the time, but they hold to the exchange of 7 to 8 Quetzals to the dollar, which may or may not be in your favor. We had taken some American dollars out of the ATM in Miami, but the machine had a limit of $250 per day, so that is all we could coax out of it. This turned out to be a good thing, but we used a part of it to pay our driver from the airport.

Prior to coming, Ron read a number of horror stories about using ATMs here in Guatemala. Crooks gain your ATM card number and code and then wipe your account clean. Being a different country, it is difficult to get restitution. We attempted to get a disposable ATM card before coming, but the timing did not work out in our favor. 

Once here, we were told that some banks have tightened up controls and the ATMs are now safe at BAM bank only. We went to the tourism agency next to the bank to book a walking tour, but were discouraged from using the ATM regardless of the bank. This created a whole new process for us. We had to use the agents inside the bank, but the line was ten deep. Fortunately, there was an American sitting waiting. She told us that the Colombians bought all of the banks in the country, thus making it unsafe to use ATMs anywhere. To get cash without the ATM machine, you had to have your ATM card, passport and a second photo ID.  I don’t carry ID with me, so we had to leave and return later. 

Luck was with us. There was no one in the bank, so we were cared for immediately. The process took twenty minutes. In Hungary, they have a zillion rubber stamps and everything has to be stamped thirteen times after they have handwritten all of the information. Here, the poor banker had to enter heaven knows what into the computer. If I had not seen his fingers gliding over the keyboard like Dick Button, I would have sworn he was the world’s slowest typist. He did however; know his way around the Spanish version of QWERTY working at a speed that was a golden invite for carpal tunnel. After sweating it out, fearful that our Euro account in Hungary would provide some glitch, he handed me a pile of papers sans any rubber stamps and only one signature. This had to be presented to the cashier for the good paper, currency. All of this for a maximum daily withdrawal of 330 Euros.

Within an hour, I am convinced by this young beautiful woman that I need to buy two table runners. At first, the one with the pinks, oranges, reds, greens, purples, blacks and yellows was really appealing. This took me by surprise, because normally I would say “too gaudy”. Maybe it is the surroundings that give it appeal. Set against a volcano background, it was quite attractive actually. It is one of those things that once you have it home, it transforms into “What was I thinking?” There is the new apartment to decorate, so it can be shipped over there, but then too, it was a bargain. 

This lovely woman had a sling around her neck which instead of holding a bambino, was filled with dozens of runners. Her pitch started out with "I give you a good price, $1.00". Who cannot resist $1.00? Somehow, we paid $23 for two. Still a bargain, but how did we negotiate in the wrong direction? Ron egged me on for getting 2. I would have settled for one, which I could probably have bargained for and gotten for $39.99. Later in the day, others have wanted to sell me things for $1.00. It must be a local custom to confuse the tourists or they have me pegged as a sucker.

Table runners are all I bought today, but I did give a little boy some change. He wanted to polish my Crocs, but I explained they only needed water, not shoe polish. I took his picture, but then felt guilty when he rubbed his stomach and told me he was hungry; it is one of the words I remember in Spanish. Just leaving a restaurant where we enjoyed lunch, aided my need to be codependent regardless of where the money finally ended up. 

We also made friends with Clara, another lovely lady who made me promise I would look at her table runners tomorrow. I promised I would look. Just like most Latin American countries there are throngs of people out selling goods from flutes to table cloths and other things in between. “I give you a good price” and “I give it to you for $1.00” must be all of the English they learn. Well, not true, they do know all of the numbers above 1 when it comes to bargaining.

In the afternoon, we returned to the hotel for a rest, to read and to write. Around 6pm, we heard music and the faint sounds of people singing. Curious and about to go to dinner, we headed out the door, but stopped in our tracks. Walking past our hotel door were three angels, each with different types of wings. Ahead of them were three kings, but no others corporeal or inhuman followed. When angels have feet and use them rather than their wings, you know something is amiss. Soft stepping behind them, we knew they were headed for the cathedral where the singing was still going on. These three were certainly not part of the choir of angels or else they were in trouble for being late. When we arrived at the church, there were people milling around, but not nearly what one would call a crowd. 

The singing and music came from a band that set up in front of the church. There was no indication that this was a special occasion. They were not dressed in anything, but regular clothes. As the angels made their way to the church, they just hung around the parking lot, not joining in, not doing anything angelic. The three kings totally disappeared, perhaps because there were no stars out last night; they lost their way.

When it was apparent there was not going to be a choir of angels serenading us, we left and went on to dinner. Ron had read about an El Salvadorian restaurant. Service was excellent. For the first half hour, we were alone with the waiter and chef. I loved my pork dish; Ron was up in the air about his choice. Even when you know the language, ordering in an unfamiliar restaurant is always a gamble.    

Related articles

• ATM fraud racket busted (thehimalayantimes.com)
• New ATM Card Scam Lets Thieves Steal Your Card from the ATM (lockergnome.com)
• US Fraudsters Using 3D Printers To Make Authentic Looking ATM Skimmers (gizmodo.com.au)
• Lie-Detecting ATMs - The New Sberbank ATM is Designed to Combat Consumer Credit Fraud (TrendHunter.com) (trendhunter.com)

Pin It Now!

Birthday Greetings

Today is my birthday so after breakfast, I checked e-mails and found a few Facebook "Happy Birthday" greetings and two electronic cards that I could not open. The Internet access is over at 4pm today and I will not renew it. It is too easy for me to get distracted with the computer.

I convinced Ron that we should return to the second tour office to book our forest excursion tomorrow. When we reached it, one of the employees was standing downstairs trying to prompt other tourists to check them out too. After twenty minutes of talking, we were all set. The car will come for us at 7am and return us at 3pm. We paid 7,500 shillings per person and we have to pay $20 per person at the gate to the national park.

When we left, Amos, the salesman who we initially ran into downstairs, was there again. He asked what we were planning for today. We told him we did Old Town and Fort Jesus partially, not impressed enough to return. However, our first goal was to find an ATM machine that would take MasterCard. Naturally, he knew which of the plethora of banks did accept the MC cards and offered to walk us there. All the while he was telling us about this "cultural center" run by a university where 8 tribes from Kenya are represented. He made it sound so interesting, but my 'shyster' radar was on high alert. I am not sure if it was because it was my birthday or just age in general, I thought we should give this well groomed, well-spoken young man  a chance. We decided this was something we should see. At that moment, we thought Amos was going to tell us how to get there, end of story. We did not know the story was just starting.

The first thing you need to know is that the public transportation went on strike as of yesterday. Before getting any gradiose ideas of the transportation system, let me clue you in. The entire system is based on matattas. What is a matatta, you ask? These are normal vans that act as buses. Each authorized van has a yellow stripe across the side showing their destination. They stop at matatta stops like a bus would, but there is no schedule or route listed at the stops. To know where to get a matatta going where you want to go or where to get off is in-bred knowledge transferred down through the local gene pool. For a foreigner it is a game of twenty questions or more trying to figure out the system. Each matatta is privately owned and operated, but they must belong to the Matatta Association in order to operate legally. They were striking due to the police stopping them unnecessarily along the routes and asking for bribes. Even with a strike, there were a few still driving. Amos took us to the stop. A car pulled up and he wanted to shove us in it. There were already 3 passengers and no room for Ron and I unless we sprawled over the other bodies. We said no way. A matatta ride runs 60 shillings.

With this strike, Amos said he negotiated with a taxi driver to take the three of us for 300 shillings. Suddenly, Amos was part of our group. Another man was already in the taxi going the same direction as we were. He was in the front passenger side. His long greasy wavy hair that he attempted to tuck into his little cap and down his collar combined with the beard, glasses, and crazed look on his face brought visions of Richard Reid the American shoe bomber. With a temperature in the 90s, his over-sized shirt that resembled long underwear and the vest he wore over it did make me uneasy.  

All during our forty-five minute ride, I had visions of being part of a suicide bombing scheme. Once we left the hustle of the city, I was able to relax a bit. It would be pointless for a suicide bomber to waste himself in the outskirts of the city. When we reached Movi University, I was relieved. All I had was a 5oo shilling note, but the driver could not make change. He promised to credit us for the ride home. Amos took his number to call when we were ready.

Entrance to the center was 850 shillings (8.50 euros) for each of us, but residents were free, so we did not have to pay for Amos. Our guide was Michael, a student at the university working on his diploma in Tourism and Culture. He was working at the center as part of his internship. We were the only visitors that day. In order to educate Kenyan children of the different cultures within the country, they opened this center that was once a quarry for limestone. Amongst the trees and plants that were introduced over 30 years ago, they have created 8 tribal areas. Each area contains housing built according to that particular tribe and looks like a small version of that tribe's village. There is one resident at each area, a tribal person that lives there all year to explaing their way of life and customs. Each tribal person speaks their own language, so Michael was the interpreter. The person, sometimes a man and other times a woman, would show us inside their hut, where parents and children slept, how they cooked, weapons if they used them, what their tribal customs are. Some are hunters, some are gatherers, others a combination of both. One tribe sustains itself on crocodiles and hippos exclusively. At each village, we would spend fifteen to twenty-five minutes. Michael was an excellent guide. I could not conceive of living alone all year away from your entire tribe. Michael said they do take a week or more sometimes to visit home, but someone else from the tribe has to come to replace them.

At the end, there is the gift shop, where women from the university are working doing their darnedest to get people to buy souvenirs, mostly same-same as everywhere else. They were tough salespeople making it difficult to refuse. Finally, we compromised on a bookmark and bottle of water to get her off my back. Then we had to watch the Masai tribe dance, though we said we already saw it in Masai Mara. These guys were hanging around waiting for some tourist to pop up so there was no way of getting out of it. After they were done, they wanted to sell us a CD of their music. Hardly an enticement. Then there was the 'request' for a donation for the performance, another 500 shillings (5 euros).

Amos was trying to get our driver, but he was out at the airport on the other side of the city. We sat and had a drink speaking with Michael and Amos about the state of affairs of Kenya. Both are educated and eloquent speakers. They repeatedly said it was up to young people like them to make changes, but the old guard kept the talented youth from making inroads into the professions. They claim the unemployment rate here is 60%. Young people are getting educated, but then cannot find jobs. Sounded like a familiar story worldwide. What was interesting was their take on tourism. They said that after clashes happen, it takes 3 years for the tourists to return. BBC and CNN give unfavorable reports on the tribal clashes causing undue worry, but those who would have come, put it off. In 2012, they will have the next presidential election. Michael said that after each election there are major problems with rioting and tribal conflicts. He predicts this will dissuade tourism once again.

We waited for over an hour for our driver who was no closer to picking us up than he was earlier. Amos called a fried with a tuk-tuk who appeared suddenly. He was willing to tranport us back for 1,000 shillings (10 euros). Fine, we kissed our 2 euro credit from the first driver good-bye, but we needed to get back. We agreed. We gave Michael a 500 shilling (5 euros) tip for the tour after he made it clear how expensive an education was when you could not work during an internship or while classes were being held.

The tuk-tuk ride was wild to say the least, but we took it in stride. Amos did not. He backseat drove the entire time, screaming at the driver for taking unnecessary chances with passing, barely missing pedestrians, and making turns. When we first started, the tuk-tuk kept losing gears. We had to stop a half dozen times for adjustments. When we finally reached town, he dropped us off about 1/4 mile from the hotel, why, I am uncertain. Amos continued to follow us like a puppy when we stopped at a supermarket to pick up a couple of beers and bag of peanuts. He asked if we could buy him a drink, so chose a yogurt one. Finally, I realized the only way to shake him was to tip him. Though we could probably have made our way without him, it would have been extremely complicated. He was excellent company and pure enjoyment to speak with, so I handed him 1,000 shillings (10 euros). After thanking me, he said "I don't want to impose and if you cannot it is fine, but I have to buy a book for my son's primary school. It costs 1,500 shillings, so if you could give me another 500 shillings (5 euros), I can go right to the store and buy it before going home." I handed him the money.

When we were back at the hotel, we realized we had spent most of what the local bank would allow us to take out in one offering. Just enough for dinner was left. We went to the Blue Room Restaurant. Signs everywhere said self-serve, but a young man told us to have a seat and took our order. Again, I thought maybe he really doesn't work here and just gets orders for the unsuspecting. As it turned out, he did indeed work there. It was a cheap meal, but tasty. Back at the hotel, we had a pot of tea and a piece of chocolate cake while Ron sang a rendition of Happy Birthday.  The Disney Corporation had the song copyrighted so anyone singing it on restaurants in the US, movies, commercials, etc. have to pay royalties to Disney. Fortunately, Mickey Mouse was no where in sight.

Pin It Now!

New Years Eve

This is an exercise in absurdity. Our hotel prefers cash payments due to their electric problems, but also with the bank's electric problems. They cannot always get the credit card to go through. They could do it the old fashioned way of calling it in, but they claim they cannot always get through. Yada, yada, yada. For a large expensive, full service hotel, you would think they had a better back up system to aid the guest. When they do take credit cards, they ONLY take VISA, not MasterCard. So my questions that went unasked are why they do not warn guests in an e-mail prior that they first of all are having the electric problems on the island, which may cause disruptions, second that they would prefer cash, and third that ATMs that work are as rare as the Red Colobus monkeys are on Mars. The worst part of this is that the hotel 236 Hurumzi, is owned by an American who opened it over ten years ago and has expanded it ever since. You would think he would know better by this time how to handle tourism, but he admitted to us that he does not even own a credit card. All well and good for him, but he is not the guest.

My original intent was to pay the bill using my MasterCard debit card on our euro account. This was not going to work if they only took Visa. Being hotter than 6 feet from the sun's surface today, Ron suggested we take a taxi to the Barclays Bank where we knew our MC and their ATM would play nicely together. The taxi took us to the bank passing the People's Commerce Bank along the way, where only Visa is accepted, but they had a line snaking 2 blocks long, none of it in the shade. At the Barclays, I jump out. There is a mob, not a line, but a mob. After a few hand signals from non-English speaking natives, I come to find out they are waiting to get into the bank itself. Only 2 are allowed inside at a time. There were only 4 people ahead of me for the ATM. Jackpot! Well, for 5 minutes it seemed like a winner, but then an armored truck pulled up. The security guard with a big fat machine gun made everyone leave the area. Only the person standing at the ATM in the middle of a transaction was allowed to finish. Ron was sitting the air conditioned taxi waiting. When I popped back in, the driver suggested another bank. That bank had 2 ATMs, but no line. Suspiciously, I approached. No electric on either one. The guard confirmed they were not working. Back in the taxi, we went to another. Same story, different bank. The fourth bank had a line, so that was a good sign. I was number twelve. There were 2 women in there together who were taking so long, the guard went in twice to yell at them. Ten minutes later, they emerged and they were already in there when I arrived. Calculating how long it would take me to reach the machine, standing in the hot sun, watching Ron and the driver sit in the air conditioned car, I put curses on the hotel, Zanzibar, Tanzanian banks, and everyone else adding to my discomfort in the heat. I jumped back in the taxi telling Ron the hotel could take a credit card and like it. This was their fault after all for not warning us. Just by chance, I had the driver take us back to the first Barclay's bank. No truck, only 3 people in line for the machine, I jumped out, told Ron to send the taxi on his way. It had now cost us more than twice the original amount quoted. Eureka! I was able to get the money needed.

Walking back, we went through the big market. I bought another bag of vanilla beans for less than what I paid on the spice tour. I had him through in a bag of red saffron too. We stopped at the Zanzibar Coffee Company on the way. It is not air conditioned, but they did have fans and it was cooler than outside. When we made it back to the hotel, we counted out our money.

After paying the hotel and paying for the New Year's dinner tonight, we had about $6.00 left over for all day New Year's Day. Oh, hell! Originally, we had booked the New Year's dinner here at the hotel, which was supposed to be quite a show with entertainment and multi-course meal, but when we checked in we saw that it was $125.00 per person. There was no way we were going to pay that, so we canceled those reservations right quickly and hoped something else would turn up. With the electric issues, it was iffy which restaurants would be open and who could cook, but we found that the Fort Museum had a buffet and entertainment three nights a week. One of the nights was Thursday, which happened to be New Year's Eve. We booked it for $25. each. 

On the way, I started thinking about our lack of funds, so took the Visa ATM card with us. We went to the bank that has the long lines all of the time, because it was closest. Ron fussed that we could do this tomorrow, but I insisted that doing it after the sun has set was smarter than during the heat of the day. At the rate people were going through the line, he estimated we would finish in an hour. An hour tonight was better than 2 tomorrow. When we were 4th in line, people came out crumbling, all natives. When I asked someone what they were saying, I did not like the response. The machine is out of money. Well, I would not take that for an answer, so while the rest were moaning, I moved forward. Like hitting the lottery, the money spit out. We could eat another day.

At the fort, we bought our tickets. The "restaurant" is outdoor seating at the edge of the historic fort built by somebody to protect their conquered goods from being ripped off by some other invader who really had no right to be here to begin with. The buffet was simple at best, not having 1/2 of what is advertised for other dinner buffets. Rice, chippata, stewed vegetables, beef on a skewer, chicken, fish, and fruit. Drinks were extra. Supposedly an all-you-can-eat buffet, it all disappeared after the first half hour. The entertainment consisted of a drummer, and accordianist, and two female singers who sang to us in Swahili. Grand total, there were 8 of us there for dinner and 2 others who were there for the show only. By 9:30, it was all over. Such a festive New Years were were having.

To work off that one shot at the buffet we had, we walked around the park. It was grounded and the food vendors were there selling their food. Deciding that this year was not going to be as festive as the last two, we returned to the hotel. Outside on the street, three dancers were performing Swahili dances. All the neighborhood came to watch, so we sat and watched also. When they were done, we went to our little cafe for a cup of tea. Moments later the dancers and drummers followed us in and gave us a command performance, but their command, not ours. It was fun, but by 11pm, we were in bed reading and slept through the changing of the years.  

Pin It Now!

Mercury Rising

At breakfast, the clouds flirted with us, teasing that they just may drench us with rain to clear the air. If we showered with our clothes on, we could not be any wetter than we were. Oh, how I do love watching others struggle up those stairs to the breakfast rooftop patio. It does my heart good that it is not just me who finds this a sadistic morning challenge.

Concerned about shopping before the holidays, not knowing if that means a thing here, we went to the ATM machine. Now that we know the locations of five machines both working and none, we can make the trek to the farthest away in twenty minutes. The good old Barclays was not working again today, but there is no bank behind it to reason this out.  A security guard outside was kind enough tell us it had moved to the big market area. What is he  is securing without a bank is in question as is why they keep a small lobby air conditioned when the machine is non-functional. Another banking trick for keeping rates artificially high, perhaps.

The real Barclays accepted my euro account card without a hiccup and spit out lots of bills with multitudes of zeros on them. I could feel my shopping gene vibrate and twitter. Ron had other ideas, though. We stopped at the Anglican cathedral. It stands of the land that the last slave market was maintained. The altar is where the last slave auction took place before it was declared illegal. In the back is a heart wrenching art piece of slaves chained together with only their upper bodies fully sculpted. One of the people significant in the end of slavery was Dr. David Livingstone. In the church is a crucifix made of the wood from the tree that he died under here in Zanzibar. His heart was buried here, but the rest of his body was sent elsewhere for burial.

After a cold drink, we did make it shopping to buy the lounging pants I wanted, a t-shirt and two scarves as gifts. It was oppressively hot, so we were in slow, slow motion stopping yet again at the Serena Hotel for another cold drink before heading back to the room. The skies finally gave way and released its pent up tears, flooding the streets in a matter of twenty minutes. We allowed ourselves to get soaked briefly, but shop hopped the rest of the time. Then it dried up and became Finnish sauna steamy once again.

When we returned, Ron was looking at our reservation for this hotel and they have us down for a 'week', but checking out on January 1st, not the 2nd when our flight is. The reservations person will not be in until tomorrow, but we have another tour booked leaving at 8am. Something new to worry about.

For dinner, we went to Mercury's Restaurant named after Freddie Mercury of Queen fame. He was born here in Zanzibar, though the restaurant's only relation to him is his name. It sits on the beach with a marvelous view of the boats coming in, the children swimming and the young men doing acrobatics. We arrived at 6pm, but dinner service did not start until 7pm, but we were pleasantly entertained by the scenery on the beach in the meanwhile. The peddlers come by the railing selling their goods. Each has a more dramatic story than the last and I am certain parts of the stories are true. Who wants to set themselves up for rejection time and again, day after day if they had a choice. There has to be a limit of what you can buy though, so Tough Love has to set in.

To work off dinner, we walked through the park. It was mobbed with people eating. Knowing the salaries, I can only wonder how they can afford to live, let alone eat out.

One disjointed observation is about the children. It is not uncommon to see 3-5 year olds walking the streets alone or playing somewhere without an adult anywhere in sight. Often, we have seen children I would guess to be about 7-9 years old, holding other smaller children walking the streets or standing on the roadsides. 

Pin It Now!

Money Woes Is Me

Thunderstorms this morning, making the air feel like we are swimming around the room. Humidity does not begin to describe it with the oppressive heat. Last night, we left the screened windows open for air; the ceiling fan was working overtime too. When I peeled myself from the sheets, it was obvious it had rained in. Luckily, my computer and camera were on the shelf under the closed window.

By the time, we made our way down our 2 flights of stairs, across the hotel and then 4 flights of stairs to the breakfast room, artificial resuscitation would have been welcomed. These stairs are not really stairs, they are like climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. Each one takes a contortionist movement of the legs to reach the next step. A Slinky going down them would give up in disgust and refuse to go further than 2 steps out of fear of heights. Though, the staff run up and down them like they were nothing, but the staff is mostly under 25 years old too. 

Armed with umbrellas that we never needed, we went to explore the city. A walking tour is offered, but we did not make it in time to book it, so we hoofed it on our own starting at the seaside and working our way through the maze of streets. With the electric problems, customers need to shop and plan out where to eat early in the day or there may not be as many options past 4pm. Sunset is at 6:15pm every day and by 6:45pm, it is dark. We were told this is because of the proximity to the equator. It was the same in Kenya, too. If you are looking for a glorious sunset, don't sneeze or you will miss out. 

One of the shops we came across has a number of batiked items, jewelry and hand woven scarves. Many of the products support the Masai Women's Collective to aid them in being financially independent. One of the things that attracted my attention were wonderful lounging pants, one size fits all. The skinny salesman/artist showed us how they work for keeping them in place. I had the idea of getting 2 sets for each of the bedrooms and one for each of us. Guests can use them for lounging or to come to breakfast before showering and then we just launder them when they leave us. They are wonderful 'hang-around' on a lazy day type pants; my kind of clothing. We picked out other things we wanted to buy as gifts, but without cash could only promise to return. Supporting a women's collective and young artists makes me feel like my money is well spent.

Our next venture was to the market. Stall after stall, it was not much different than Cairo or Morocco, but smaller. Everyone has a bargain; everyone wants to sell you something. The items of choice are vanilla beans and saffron. Both are dirt cheap here. In CA, the supermarkets used to keep both under lock and key due to the expense and theft. Here you can buy either for $2.00 a pod for vanilla or a packet of saffron. I will stock up before we leave. At the market and everywhere else people are hawking bags of cashews, spices, or DVDs of Swahili top ten hits. Not that I am interested, but I am curious if there really is a DVD of music in the wrapped cover they offer.

We decided we had better find an ATM and get some cash. What we had was wearisomely low. When we found the bank, there was a long a block long to use the machines. Where these due to the electrical problems or just a run on the bank? I stood in line for over thirty minutes while Ron tried finding another bank. When I finally found the machines in eye sight, I saw the Visa logo only. This was a concern since our bank ATM is a MasterCard. Sure as there is a death at the end of life, the machine would not accept my card. But, it did not inform me of this right out. We played cat and mouse with false hopes before it flashed "REJECTED, cannot make this transaction". Two blocks away was a Barclays Bank, so we went there. Suspiciously, there was no line. We went in the door, it was air conditioned. We could have stayed there for longer if the "We are sorry for the inconvenience, but this machine is currently not working. Please try again later" message flashing on the screen was not so discouraging. Now fear was creeping in. Most places do not take credit cards, but even if they could, without electricity then cannot run the cards. They have not learned or don't want to bother calling it in the old-fashioned way.

Diagonally from Barclays a half block down was another bank. I went there, but no machine at all. The bank had closed down.  With cash concerns, we returned  to our room to think things out. Some of my best ideas come when I am on the computer and sure enough, I remembered while uploading some posts that our other bank card was a Visa debit card. This is not the account I wanted to draw from, but if push came to possibly having to steal to get money, we would do it. First, we returned to Barclays. It did say to check back later and this was later. Now the damn machine was not even lit up. Someone must have shut off the generator. Back to the other bank, with fingers crossed, it swallowed my card and spit out cash. Hope of shopping trips returned, not to mention eating another meal after the provided breakfast. 

Now feeling flush, we went to the Old Fort where there is an old fort, hence the name, but also a tour booking service and tourism information. We booked the Spice Tour for tomorrow. As luck would have it, three Swedish people from our hotel arranged the same tour and requested an air conditioned van or they would  not go. Thank you Swedes.

Across the street from the fort and on the waterfront is a large park that was refurbished and reopened this year. By 6pm, it was filled with food venders cooking on grills and selling their foods. One such was grilling a root type vegetable which we had never seen before.  There was a young couple eating one nearby. I took a chance they were tourists and asked about it. It is called a maniok (we are not sure of the spelling). It is similar to a potato, but a bit different taste. We tried one and it was good, especially hot off of the grill, but not as good as it could have been slathered in butter. Another foodsmith nabbed us to show us all of his offerings. He could have been named Neptune; he had every type of sea creature ready to grill as well as potatoes, sweet potatoes (African are a bit different from what we are used to), chicken or beef on a stick, falafel, and coconut bread. After his whole speech, we turned him down and went to our cafe next to the hotel.

The soup of the day was pumpkin with coconut milk. Could I resist? No! It was delicious; so good in fact, I could have forgotten about a main dish, but I had a chicken fajita, also recommendable. Tomorrow night, we may just may attempt the food on the go, in the park, for dinner.

Pin It Now!

Boxing Day, Where is My Box?

Happy Boxing Day!

This is our last day with Anwar and the last of the safaris for a little over a week. Last night I overindulged with the spinach on the buffet. Spinach  and pumpkin will always get me for second helpings, but this is not a good thing. Spinach treats me the same way as eating two bowls of stewed prunes does others. I am paying for it this morning, but knowing I made trouble for myself, I set the alarm for an hour earlier than need be.

This will be a short safari drive in Lake Manyara Reserve, because we have to catch a flight to Zanzibar at 2pm. They have the whole assortment of animals in this reserve, but almost immediately, we came across a bull elephant just lazily strolling down the road. Anwar had to stop as the animals have the right of way. He was explaining to us that one time he was caught blocking an animals thoroughfare and was fined $200 general fine and an additional fine of $5o for each person in the jeep.

As the elephant walked by us within petting distance, I just wanted to reach out and cuddle him. When I started cooing at him, Anwar shut me up explaining that could agitate the bull into doing something destructive to the car. Okay, cute, but dangerous still. I get it. There ia a large hippo pond with numerous hippos; two started fighting, but it happened and ended so fast, I could not get it on camera. We were only able to stand at a railing to view them, which was fine, we had seen a number of hippos. This reserve is know for its bird varieties. We saw numerous birds we had not seen before. Baboons ran rampant and should try practiciing birth control. There were more of them than I had ever seen anywhere. Some were doing the nasty on the road, while others were doing the nasty to themselves on the road or on the side of it. Oh, tourists, let's put on our show.

The hotel packed us a picnic lunch, surprising since we checked out long before a normal lunchtime. We had a 2 hour drive to the Arusha airport for our TanzAir flight to Zanzibar. Being the travelers we are, we thought we should be there 2 hours ahead of time for security and all that hubbub, but when we arrived at 12:15, we found the check-in did not begin until 1:00pm. Anwar's boss showed up with our tickets. He received so many kudos on Anwar's performance, he grinned from ear to ear. Anwar told us over lunch, he did not work at all in November. Promising to do our best to send clients his way, we gave him his tip and said good-bye. Living only 20 minutes away, he was going to spend the rest of the day having Christmas with his family and neighbors, though he is Muslim. His wife was a Christian, but converted to Muslim along with his three kids.

At an airport this small, it is a comedy act, but actually they are well organized. All flights on all of the airlines check in at one counter with one man doing the check-in and one weighing and labeling the luggage. Although there was a horde of people, we checked in and received boarding passes relatively quickly. Next was move to the  loading area, where everyone is allowed, those flying and those saying good-bye or hello to an incoming flight.

Without warning, we had a downpour. Being we were flying on a 30 seat Cessna, we had to wait out the rain. This turned out to be a good thing. I had to acquaint myself with the men's room three times before we finally boarded. I kept thinking as long as they have my luggage, they will not leave without me, but in reality, the plane is so small, they could have dumped my luggage in a heartbeat. There were no seat assignments, just grab a seat filling up the front first. Being 2nd and 3rd, we sat right behing the pilots and could have given them back massages along the way. However, it was so hot in the plane for this hour and twenty-minute flight, we fell asleep.

At the Zanzibar "International" Airport, hardly a bite bigger than the one we left, the luggage was off-loaded by hand onto a rack, not a conveyor belt. Everyone had told us that finding an ATM machine in Tanzania was going to be difficult, but while on the safari, we had all meals included, so had no need for cash. Now, it was an issue and the airport we left behind had no ATM machine. Fortunately, the Zanzibar airport had a row of money changers, so we converted euros to get by, especially for the taxi ride to the hotel. Warned to use the authorized taxis regardless of offers by others, we did and had a set rate of 13,000 T shillings. When the driver pulled up next to a mosque and said this was as far as he could go, we were nervous, but he continued that the roads to the hotel were too narrow for cars. Instead, he walked us to the hotel, 236 Hurumzi.

What an amazing hotel it is, called 236 Hurumzi, the address where it sits. Originally, the building was built by the Omani Arabs. The front section was built by Tharia Tiipto who was principal financial advisor to Sultan Bargash. Tipton also served as Head of Customs. In 1863, when the slave trade was officially ended, the British made it a law that all slaves were to be freed. Those who had made investments in their slaves refused to relinquish the money spent, so the British  government reimbursed them for their losses. It was in this building that these transactions were handled. Hurumzi is derived from the Swahili Uhuru-mzee which means "Free the men". Tom Green, an American from Kansas, bought the first property and restored it. Now including the properties at 236, there is also 240, 234, and 235 creating 24 spacious and luxurious rooms. All rooms are decorated in a mixture of Persian, Indian, and Arab elements. As he restored each part, locals offered to sell him bits and pieces from destroyed buildings. It is truly unique. Our tub is the size of a wading pool. All of the furniture throughout the hotel is antique.

All of this goodness is not without a down side. The island of Zanzibar receives its electricity from the mainland. On December 10th, the government decided to refurbish the underwater cable. In light of this, there has not been any electricity since December 10th. The hotel has a tremendously large generator that runs 18 hours a day. However, smaller businesses and restaurants who are not as fortunate can only stay open if they have their own generator or during daylight hours for stores. Commerce aside, the average citizen has no electricity, no running water as the pumps are electric, so they are stuck. The hotel has its own wells, so water is not an issue here.

So, we finally are settled into our room by 4:30 and want to explore, but first we want to put our credit cards, the computer, and other cash in the room's safe. We follow the instructions, but it does not work. Multiple attempts later, we call downstairs for aid. A young man comes up with a bit of a smirk like he is going to solve our problems. He lost his smirk mighty quickly. He could not get it to work either. Believing that if he went for the printed instructions, it would help, but when he returned with them in hand, it was useless. Finally, they decided that the battery needed replacing, but the manager would not be back until 7pm. Wifi is supposed to be available, but I could not connect. When I asked reception, she told me to use the lobby and gave me the password. It did not work. We tried the password every which way, but no deal. She finally suggested I go upstairs to the office, where a password is not needed. It worked, but then I had to sort through 657 e-mails to get rid of the spam while uploading my little YouTube videos to include in earlier postings.

By this time, it was 8:00, they had just finished replacing the batteries in the safe, it worked again, and we were ready to go out and explore. Problem...the city had no electricity, so all of the alleys and byways were black as a witches stereotypical cat, so we couuld not see a thing. Next door to the hotel is a cafe that is part of the hotel, so we ate there, came back and went to bed.

Pin It Now!

Credit Card Fees When Traveling

At one time, it was a cost saving measure for travelers to use their credit cards when out of the country. Credit card companies receive discount rates for currency conversions, which when calculated, a credit card purchase was less expensive than say converting cash or the now blurred memory of a traveler's check. Times change, companies get greedy and new fees are imposed. As ex-pats, each credit card purchase or ATM transaction is considered a foreign transaction with American Express, Diners Club, Visa, and Bank of America. However, have you checked your statement carefully lately? I just happened to notice on my Citibank Visa card that the annual percentage rate is 89.4%. Is this possible? I will never know since I have online banking set-up to pay the bill in full as soon as the bank is notified a statement has been issued. Credit card companies also have instituted other hidden fees. Diners Club for instance has to be paid in full each month, however, each month that I have used it, the statements shows a "finance charge". How can this be when it is paid off in full each month? When I called the company, they said "It is really a foreign currency transaction fee". As ex-pats, we are plagued with these fees for as long as we stay out of the country, so why continue using them? Well, for one reason, Ron is traveling to the US on frequent flier miles. In December, the two of us are going to Ethiopia on frequent flier miles. Why don't we get credit cards issued here in Hungary? Have you ever looked for hen's teeth? Yes, they do exist, but are much less ubiquitous here than in the US. Add to this the fact that Bank of America gouges us twice. They charge a $5.00 ATM withdrawal fee and add a 3% currency transaction fee on top of it. They do have cooperating banks in some countries where the $5. fee is waived, but Hungary is not one of them. Connecting to this point, I just read in Christopher Elliot's column that Congress is trying to close some of these fees, yet, there are still gaps that allow leakage. For example, the currency in Ecuador is the US dollar, but if you use your credit card in Ecuador, the credit card companies can still charge you a currency transaction fee for a foreign purchase. For Christopher's article and to learn what Congress is not doing to assist travelers go here. http://www.elliott.org/blog/credit-card-bill-has-an-enormous-loophole-that-could-hurt-travelers/

Pin It Now!

AMEX - Leave Home Without It

Many travel sites and blogs have encouraged people to use their credit cards when traveling abroad rather than trying to use Traveler's Checks. In many cities/countries, getting them cashed is a nightmare, which I have experienced years ago, but haven't in the last fifteen. Since that time, I take my ATM card, but credit cards have always been a handy back-up when an itemized record of our spending has been needed on a monthly statement. The glamor of credit cards started to diminish when all of the major banks started assessing a "currency exchange fee". Diners Club/Mastercard confusingly call it a 'finance charge'. I had to call them to find out this is what it really was since I pay it in full each month. Having a finance seemed to be an error on their part. Their only error was couching the fee is misguided terms. Today, I received a special notice in the mail from American Express. As of January 11, 2009, they state "Transactions Made in Foreign Currencies section of your Agreement is replaced with the following: 'in each instance increased by 2.7%'". Notice the word 'by' not up to. So in essence this is an increase above and beyond the 1.5% they have been charging all along. Don't grab your calculator, it is 4.2%. Though the dollar may be getting stronger once again and there are 'bargains galore' for the US traveler, it is similar to believing that now that gasoline has come down from $4.00 a gallon to $2.50, it is now a bargain, so drive more. If Amex is taking this step, the others are sure to follow to cash in on the economic weakness. I am just waiting for Bank of America to say they are doing the same thing. They also charge a currency conversion fee in addition to a fee of $5.00 for every withdrawal not at one of their cooperating banks.

Pin It Now!

Shop Until We Drop For a Cause

No temples, no tuk-tuks waiting, we wandered over to the Blue Pumpkin for breakfast and to finish our Internet work. We were lucky enough to find a table on the patio right next to an electric outlet. Strangely, I checked our Bank of America account and there was no record of the $299.48 being deducted that they sent me the alert on. Maybe this is one battle I will not have to battle when we return. The other interesting thing was that when Ron used his ATM card, even though he put in he wanted to deduct the money from our checking account, the money actually was taken from his B of A credit card as a cash advance. I was able to pay the bill immediately so they could not get any interest charges tacked on. We will have to fix this matter when we return. There is something about knowing you have to go back to fight bank battles that puts a crimp in a vacation. Perhaps the Internet is not the blessing we believe it is.

We set today aside as a day for shopping and possibly a massage. There was absolutely nothing we wanted to buy in Malaysia and we do love to add trinkets from our trips to our apartment. Not only do we love being surrounded by the memories, but each and every bed and breakfast guest loves seeing the things we have acquired from various trips. Sometimes, it is creates an opportunity to share travel ideas for them and for us, too.

Being both of us were former social workers, we were drawn to the craft centers that had a social justice underlying theme. We found a craft training center where children are tested for talents and then are given apprenticeships in various cultural crafts such as silk weaving and wood or stone carving. We did a tour of the school annex here in Siem Reap; the main school is in Phnom Penh. We were able to see students carving, sanding, creating lithographs, and so on. There is a gift shop on the premises.

Another shop we found was run for the Cambodian disabled who had learned crafts. This shop sold their goods. We found a coconut teapot to add to our teapot collection. Along the way, we found some fun t-shirts with the Khmer language on it, not one I would like to try learning. We picked up some pillow covers to replace some old ones we have. Then of course, we found some small gifts for friends.

Neither the disabled nor elderly receive any governmental funds, making life difficult for them to survive. One of the schools started with the craft training programs is one dedicated to deaf children. As the sign said, they are ostracized here and this is a way for them to fend for themselves economically.

We had read about the Butterfly Café that is surrounded by mesh and there are varieties of butterflies flitting all around. There is a double door to keep them from getting out. We went for a drink after finding it across the river and off of the beaten track. For the hour we sat there, we saw three butterflies. Guess it is not the season and the workers did not speak enough English to question them. It was disappointing, but an interesting concept.

Ron had read about a massage service offered by blind massage therapists. They have been specially trained in order to support themselves. We found a couple of places advertising this service, but went to the one in the guide. Ron opted for a massage, while I waited outside. They do have seeing people taking the money. He said it was a lot of acupressure type massage where she seemed to be checking for auras. He could ‘feel’ her hand gliding over his body until she felt something and then stopped and massaged that area. For $7.00 for an hour, you cannot beat it and it is helping those trying to help themselves.

We have been in and out of the hotel room all day, dropping off things and then taking off yet again. It has been a fun day with little bags of goodies piling up, but finding space for it in the luggage and then the weight concern will be another story. As Scarlett O’Hara said “I will worry about that tomorrow.”

Pin It Now!