The Last of the Bus Rides

The absolute last bus ride for this trip was the one we took today from Queenstown to Dunedin. Five and a half hours on the bus with one stop for coffee, lunch, and a bathroom break. Grueling, but the scenery did not disappoint us at all, once again keeping us glued to the window.  Ron kept mentioning that we arrive at 12:30pm and had a wildlife tour booked for 3:30pm. Although he repeated this multiple times both in Budapest and as we traveled, the information sat on the surface of my thinking like oil sits on own water, never mixing.

When we arrived in Dunedin, the hostel turned out to be farther than we wanted to walk with suitcases. Dunedin is so hilly, laying claim to having the world’s steepest street; the city makes San Francisco look like Iowa, flat as a pancake. My idea of fun has never included carting luggage up mountains, but then again I am not into sporty events. TAXI!! The taxi must charge by the hill. We were shocked at the cost/distance ratio, but again the hills are significant, so it was that or hitchhike. 

Our room was ready upon our arrival, so we had time to stretch before climbing into another motor vehicle. Good thing, because the information that really did not penetrate was the fact that the tour was for 6 hours. They will get us at 3:20pm and not return us until 9:30pm. What seemed highly unlikely was that Ron planned this. He who is against all forms confinement made these plans, booked and paid for them before we left Europe. What has gotten into this man? He was like a little kid, really looking forward to this. I could go either way. Seals and penguins are fun, but we have seen both in South Africa multiple times, Australia, and Tierra del Fuego at the tip of Argentina. Could these seals and penguins be that much different? 

Ride around, ride around, picking up others along the way really cuts into the “tour” time. When a tour operator tells you this is an 8 hour tour, you have to cut off an hour for picking everyone up and an hour for letting everyone off at the end of the day. During this ride around, one of the two guides informs us that they hope we have good shoes, because we are going to have to do some climbing up and down steep hills. Whoa, Buster! Hold it right there. Now that we are in the van is not the time to tell us that we needed good hiking/climbing shoes. I look at Ron and ask him “Did you know we were supposed to have good hiking shoes?” I am still not sure whether or not I believe him, but he said “TripAdvisor said to have comfortable shoes.” We are both wearing Crocs, which are fabulous for everyday wear walking. They are not suitable for mountain climbing, at least not the style I brought with me.

Panic starts to set in. Not only do I not have appropriate shoes, we have been warned that hiking is involved. I take to hiking like a duck takes to quicksand. No one that knows me well has ever associated me with heavy physical exertion for work or for fun. Everyone who knows me well knows that I believe the devil is behind that E word (whisper it – exercise). Though I may be build like a Mack truck, I don’t have any horsepower; I can’t even claim pony power. I am a thinker, not a do-er. This is the main reason I don’t watch any sports either. All of that exertion being displayed just wears me out.

Tim, one of our guides is at the front of a twenty-three person van shouting out “If anyone thinks they may have problems with this ‘walk’ let us know now.”  We are sitting in the absolute last seat in the back of the van. Like I am going to announce to the masses that I am an exercise wimp, who is not certain about survival during this field trip; I think not. The penguins and seals in all other countries had the decency not to make us go over hill and dale to view them. They were all within easy walking distance. How rude New Zealand wild life is. 

We drive through a sheep ranch to finally reach this cliff where Mexican cliff divers could practice from it is so high. Masses of sheep are all around us, but there are gates to keep them from throwing themselves to the rocks and waters below. They are all going baaaaaaa in unison. All I hear is a chorus of BAAAAAAAD as in bad news for you bucko. This is not the event you have been living for. With great stoicism, I follow the leader, thinking “This is not so bad.” However, what goes down, in this case must come up again and since no escalator magically appeared, I am in big trouble. Glacier experiences are rushing past my eyes. I envision a scarlet letter on my chest, a big S for Slug. Snap, snap, snap, the guide is speaking, but I am busy getting all of the pictures I think I will ever want, need, or care to have. When he takes a breath, I inform him I am getting a head start on the return journey. It seemed likely that even with a twenty minute head start; the tail end of the group could still by-pass me on their return. Wow, I made it up before they did. Pat me on the back. It only two times to stop to gasp for air. This outdoor activity must be improving my breathing. 

The group finally returns. Gosh, they were so slow getting back. One of the guides unlocks the van, causing a knee-jerk reaction for me to climb in. He stops me, telling me he only needed a hat, but we were not ready to go yet. The Yellow-Eyed penguins were down another cliff on the opposite side of the car park. Near them, but not living with them were the Blue penguins. What a rainbow assortment of penguins they have here. What the hell, can’t they just get along with the seals congregating in one viewing area? Sean, the second guide looks at me and says, this hill is not as steep a slope, so it should be easier for you. With some bravado I started down the hill. It was like descending the seven layers of hell, but by level 4, ultimate and everlasting misery, I had had enough. Not only were there 3 more layers to descend, but what I didn’t know at the time was that then a trek followed covering another mile or more. Yellow-eyed penguins are only found here in New Zealand. Could I live without ever seeing yellow-eyed penguins? You bet I can. Prompting Ron to continue, I was standing on the hill in a 45 degree angle now certain whether which direction I was going fall in. It was either going to be flat on my face or my ass.
 

Climbing back up was worse the second time around. Ten steps, stop, rest, gasp for air, think about whether or not my travel insurance covers cremations or not. Ten more steps, same routine, but wonder if I have told Ron where I hid the travel cash. Finally reaching the top of the hill, there is a small herd of sheep waiting to greet me. They all look up, stare at me and flee like they had a premonition I was a butcher or one of THOSE types of shepherds, if you get my drift. 

I am up at the van waiting for the others, thinking how long could they possibly be. Hmm…I seem to remember one of the guides saying something about us being there for 2 ½ hours. That was forty-five minutes ago. The sun was shining, but the wind was blowing furiously. If I stayed warm in the sun, the wind was pushing me around like a bully on the playground. A shove in the back with an “I dare you. What are you going to do about it?” There were enough boulders that I was able to make a makeshift seat with the sun shining, but with a smidgen of shelter from the wind. It was so windy that one of the guides left with brown hair only to return with it white. He said he could see the color flying into the air as the wind blew it out of each hair shaft. 

So it is me and the sheep and I have to pee. Sean, the guide announced we could leave what we wanted on the van since he would lock it up. He said it is only us and the sheep up here and the sheep are fairly honest. The last I looked, the group was down the mountain and about ¼ mile down the beach. With my telescopic lens on my camera at the highest power, they still looked like ants marching to their hill. No one around, I didn’t think the sheep were going to care if I peed in front of them. Checking to make sure the group is not returning in some unexpected direction, I finally decide it is okay. Half-way through the euphoric I have been waiting too long to pee pee, two new tour groups show up out of nowhere. From the dance I did, if they were not paying full attention, they could very well have thought they caught me in the act being baaaaaad in public. Regardless, I kept a low profile behind the van.

When my group returned forty-five minutes later, it was like having angelic visitations. There is nothing I wanted more than to get out of there. Ron loved the Yellow-eyed penguins; they never had any sighting of the Blue penguins that burrow in the ground, but did not make a showing. All of this fun, yet the tour was still not over. There was still a visit the albatross research center to see albatross. Arriving at the center fifteen minutes before closing was perfect. See the center, read the info, witness an albatross flying around, get on the van and go away, far away where there is less wind. We close the center, but Sean has a lecture to give on the albatross outside on the cliff with 50 mile an hour winds blowing us around as if we were tottering bowling pins during an earthquake. After twenty minutes, Sean announces that Tim will unlock the van for those of us freezing and the rest can stay with him to listen to the rest of his monologue. He is left with 3 people while the rest of the horde was smart enough to get shelter.
 

As they are dropping people off at their preferred stops, the two guides said “Thank you for coming. We hope you had a good time.” They repeated this for each small group they dropped off. We asked that they leave us at a bar. I for one needed a beer to shake off the day. As I got out of the van, I waited for the “Thank you for coming. We hope you had a good time”, but all I received for my troubles was “Bye!”. The beer that followed was excellent, though.

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Coming to an End

All vacations need to come to an end and thus ours has done so. This is our last full day in Kenya. Our flight leaves at 3:30am tomorrow morning, so we need to leave by midnight to get to the airport. With that in mind, we booked the hotel for tonight also, even if we were would not be here overnight, just to have a place to keep our bags while having a place to rest and or nap before the early morning airport experience.

The room is paid for on a daily basis, so Ron went to pay for tonight, but explained we would be leaving at midnight. The receptionist at first said something he understood as they would not allow us to do that. Offering grandiose explanations, we finally came to terms. They would not charge us for using the room. What the young woman said was "You have been here so long, how can we charge you?" We were there two days. Does that tell you something of their star rating? 

John was on time and ready to take us to the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust. It was of utmost importance that we get there by 11am for visiting hour. From 11am to noon is the only time you are allowed to visit the shelter because they want to limit the outsider contact to make it easier for the elephants and rhinos to be reintroduced into the wild. 

We were there in plenty of time to wait with all of the other anxious visitors who had heard of their work. The only reason I had any knowledge of them was because my friend Daphnee had adopted an elephant for me for my birthday last year. When the rope gate is dropped, you are escorted first to the donation table, where they request an entrance of 300 shillings, but we gave 1,000 each. Then it is on to the visiting area. Beyond the roped off area, there are oversized baby bottles waiting for the little ones to come suckle by groups depending on their ages. When the first group came out, I almost had to be held back from jumping the rope to go hug these babies. Some of these little orphans were so small, I immediately thought of Gulliver's Travels and the Lilliputs. Good grief, I could carry one of these creatures in carry-on. So for the next hour, we watched as this group was fed, played with each other, interacted with the keepers, and were lectured about the foundation. Most of the orphans' are there because the mother was hunted down by poachers. One was found in a hole in the road and presumably the mother was would not be able to rescue it. 

They also rescue rhinos, but only have three at this time. One is blind, so they don't allow him to visit. One has been set loose, but returns daily for a visit and then leaves again. The third one has stopped being allowed out since September when we started becoming "naughty". He was charging people and not a cash producing charging proposition either. The hour went by so quickly, I did not have time to plan any elephant-napping attempts. 

Our next stop was the Kenyan Wildlife Center for Endangered Animals. This particular center was for giraffes. The entrance is 7oo shillings. They have an elevated viewing area so that you are face to face with the giraffes, at least the adult ones. A keeper hands out feed and tells you to give one pellet at a time to maintain their attention. Giraffes are head butters, so if you are not careful and keep the feeding on a regular basis, they will butt you with their head to get more. What awesome creatures they are. Every time I went to pet the face or nose of the female I was feeding, she kept pulling away. I had to be canny with the food to get a pet in. The creatures on this earth are so magnificent. It just makes me loathsome when I think about poaching for greedy people.

We had John take us pack to the hotel to decide on a plan for the rest of our day. We shelled over another 3,000 shillings (30 euros) to him. No wonder he has a nice new car with a/c and always dresses in fine clothing.  

After a mini-rest, we took another taxi from the hotel downtown. I had noticed this coffee shop called the Mug Culture and I was more than ready for a good coffee. The hotel only had instant. We were going to get dinner and then go to a movie. Mug Culture tuned out to be a full service restaurant and Starbucks combo, making it perfect. When I ordered a latte, what arrived was a beer mug full of coffee. Not only was it the size I love, but it was an excellent latte besides and piping hot. There is nothing worse than a lukewarm latte. We had dinner there also; the portions were Hungarian sized and the food was great. If we were staying in Nairobi longer, this would be my hangout. When we left, I had left behind a copy of the book Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, because we had both read it and it was not a keeper. We went for a walk around the block waiting to go to the movie, but I had to return to the restaurant's bathroom. When the waitress saw me, she nodded her head. I knew she thought I was there for the book. When she tried returning it to me, I said I was only back for the WC, but the book was to find a new home. She was totally uncomprehending. I explained that I wanted to share the book with others, so I hoped it would find a good home. She hugged the book like it was a South African Krugerrand.

At Foxy Cinemas, there were two screens, each playing one movie. In one was The Time Traveler's Wife. We had both read and loved The Time Traveler's Wife novel, by Audrey Niffenegger. More than unfortunately, only the second one was showing at any times we could attend. It was Avatar. Ticket prices were listed as stall, love seats, balcony, and one other I cannot remember. What choices, but when we asked about them, all seats are created equal. Inside was a regular theater just like Anywhere, USA or Budapest, Hungary. Viva la lack of difference. 

Now, neither of us knew a thing about this movie. I am not hot on sci-fi movies or books, but did like Star Wars. It was the longest waste of time I have spent in a theater since I cannot remember when. In retospect, reading some of the reviews, I don't know what these people are thinking. But let's think about this for a moment. The year is 2154, putting it 154 years ahead in the future. Same old themes: war, corporate greed, colonization, genocide, but on a different planet. Wow, what a difference a galaxy makes. The main character is a paraplegic soldier. Right! Now that is even beyond fantasy and sci-fi, but it gets better. He is promised his legs back..IF...he does the commander's bidding. Question here, if they have the ability to return the use of his legs, why didn't they do it to begin with rather than have a disabled soldier? 

Now lets move on to the aliens. Remember the year is 2154. They are still gendered, male and female. They marry, mate, and are still in patriarchal tribes. The tribal chief's son is the jealous protector of his sister, one of the main characters. Of course, she and the soldier fall in love. The director made the Titanic, how could we avoid a love story? Same old story, the soldier infiltrates the tribe to gain their trust, falls in love, girl finds she was initially being used, guy has to swear that was only the beginning, but real love did evolve. All of the themes have been played out since talkie movies first appeared. To prove himself and his love, he has to show his new adopted tribe how to beat their enemies. Good vs Evil, Right vs Wrong, Corporate Greed vs Bulldozing over anyone in your path. Isn't it interesting the way the corporation always comes tumbling down in the movies, but it never happens in real life. To make the movies more realistic, after they collapse, someone should rush in with a rescue plan to help them be corrupt once again. It is like a financial eco-system.   

My next question is does anyone who nominates these movies or even reviews them, listen to the dialogue? Some of it was a direct rip from a Doris Day and Rock Hudson movie; it could have been Pillow Talk. Other parts could have come from Saving Private Ryan or the Simpsons, but much of it made as much sense as Seinfeld. The army commander of 2154 should not be using 2001 teenager slang. There is something wrong when they have to resort to this type of dialogue. 

Yes, the special effects were interesting, but I didn't consider them exceptional. The flying dragons reminded me of the Dragon Riders of Pern. At attempt at futuristic elephants looked more like creatures I remember seeing when watching Saturday morning cartoons with my nephews. If I watched this movie again, I could really do a job on it. This is just from one viewing with expectation of enjoyment.

After the movie, we went back to Mug Culture for a piece of cake. We needed to treat ourselves after the torture we had endured. A taxi back to the hotel where we repacked our bags to go, tried taking a nap, and that is the end of the story for Nairobi.

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Not Boring, but Boringo

At some point in the wee hours of the morning, it sounded like ping pong balls were falling on the roof of our hut, box, whatever it is classified as, signaling the rain had started. By the end of an hour, the noise changed from ping pong balls to golf balls. If it were not so hot, I would have sworn it was hail coming down, but in reality just heavy drops of rain. Joseph our first guide from Kuja Safaris was coming to pick us up at 9am, so we were showered, had breakfast, and paid our bill ready to go. Then Ron came out to tell me the minor bad news. This place did not have our reservation for when we were to return. Gosh darn, no more Jerk-in-a-Box experiences? There are two hotels right next to the hostel, so he went to check on availability there. They both had a place, but the less expensive one included breakfast, a deal for sure. Both look more than adequate.

Once Joseph had us loaded in the van, we were off on a five hour drive to Lake Boringo where we are staying at Robert's Camp. Our accommodation here is, well what can I say, pleasant, but... We have a little hut to ourselves with a double bed. It is very tribal looking in construction, but modern inside. The problem is that the bathroom is in a different building behind us. Though the bathroom is modern, with a real toilet, this camp is known for two things: bird species, over 450 varieties in this area and then there are the hippos. More on these later.

As soon as we were checked-in, they wanted us to order our lunch. The cafe is called The Thirsty Goat and looks very Out of Africa gone a bit modern. I ordered a steak dinner and vanilla milkshake; Ron chose Moroccan meatballs with rice. We had no sooner finished lunch and they asked us to place our dinner order. We were too full to think of dinner, so we asked to do it later. Birdwatchers would be in heaven here. Just while eating lunch, we were entertained by about fifteen different bird species among them the African Hornbill. Others are in glorious shades of blues, yellows, and even beautiful grays.  The rest of the day was on our own.

As a conservation area, the animals have the right of way. About one block in distance from our hut is the Lake Boringo, the home of a family of hippos numbering about twenty-five according to local estimates. When we walked down to the lake to view them, they were out of the water grazing. Hippos kill more people than any other wild animal. On land, they can out-run a man. Basically, there is nothing else to do here except relax, so we read, wrote, relaxed, drank tea, ate dinner, and waited for the morning. The lights went off at 9pm, but they did come back on again shortly thereafter. If I had to go to bed at 9, it would be a really long night. I would be up at 2am, not being able to sleep again.

All of our meals are supplied by The Thirsty Goat Cafe, so dinner was shell pasta with cream sauce and beef lasagna. How wonderfully African!

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Petition Time

The wildlife service is hazing wild buffalo. Please read and consider signing the petition. http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2009/05/15/18595065.php

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Kangaroo Island Sea Lions

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