Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

photo / safari / South Africa / Thursday — Comments Off
18
Jun 26

A little slowdown ahead

Well, the cats are settled back into things. Routines are easy to slip into, and thank goodness for that. And there’s nothing in the world more habitual than a cat, except maybe for me. Phoebe enjoyed a nice nap in one of the scratching boxes.

Poseidon took the opportunity to sneak into the dryer. It’s a cave and dark and warm? It must belong to him.

While we were on safari I mistimed a few of the early photos and the joke from our new English friends was that I should take a bunch of animal bum photos and decorate a room of the house with them. Before long, the joke became that we should do a bathroom in that style. And maybe we will. To continue the joke I kept taking photos of wildlife bums.

And then, on our last day, on Table Mountain in Cape Town, I wandered into the gift shop and saw this.

You know, I said to my lovely bride, I’ve been thinking about expanding my small lapel pin collection just a bit. Should I get these?

“Absolutely,” she said. So I did. And for six dollars, American, I added five new pins. I figure I’ll find a way to wear one or two of them, at least.

And that is the 201st photograph I’ve put up in June alone. Which is to say that things are going to slow down around here for a while. I’ll try to keep the regular Monday-Friday space filled with … something … but if I miss a day or two here or there, don’t be too surprised. And, eventually, we’ll slip back into high volume content. But, for now, summertime.

adventures / family / photo / Wednesday — Comments Off
17
Jun 26

And now all back at home

We have made it back home this evening, the cats are getting settled back in, all went according to plan. This was today’s plan.

This morning I worked on cutting back some shrub-turned-trees at my in-law’s house. Then we visited the local hardware store where a guy sold us some equipment so that we could fashion additional handholds in the basement. This we did with brisk efficiency.

We celebrated with lunch, going to one of those seafood walk up places that looks out over the water. My lovely bride grew up going to this place, and we go there whenever we are there and the weather is nice. You walk to the window, place your order, receive a tray and then walk around the back to a bunch of picnic tables and boats docked to piers. Its all sandwich-based, and all fried. I get a shrimp sandwich and dose it with fresh cut lemon.

Back at the childhood manse, we packed up our things and, finally the kitties. We said our “see you soons” and set out for home. The cats had a lot to say about that. For about 90 minutes they let us have it. They were still singing the mighty chorus when we passed by the George Washington Bridge.

That’s the world’s busiest bridge, and more than 100 million vehicles go over it in a year. It is almost a mile long, and has 14 lanes, which is some sort of record or something. It was, for a time, the longest main bridge span in the world, until the Gold Gate Bridge took the title in 1937. But, you know, I think that bridge was misnamed. I don’t think George Washington ever went over that bridge.

We saw a lot of World Cup signage. Here’s some of that.

Those two photographs were taken just 17 minutes apart, but look how different the sky is.

Soon after the asphalt of the highway smoothed out and the cats settled down. When we took our exit, they noticed the big turn and the change of speed and perked back up. They’ve done that trip maybe three or four times. No way they knew where they were until I carried them in the house, right?

adventures / family / photo / Tuesday — Comments Off
16
Jun 26

Reunited with the kitties

We arrived last night, having been American again for about 55 hours. I find that the older I get the more time I need to reset. At this rate, my whole reset thing may take months. Sometimes circumstances don’t allow, though, which is probably for the best.

Anyway, we’re at my in-laws, picking up the kitties. They’ve had a great time here. Poseidon adjusted to our return pretty easily and, by today, he’s been eager for pets and to tell us about the fun he’s had.

He’s easy to win over. Give him a little attention, a good pet or two, and all is forgiven, or you’ll become famous friends.

Phoebe, on the other hand, takes a little more time. She has a lot of closets and hiding places here and she’s not ready to forgive us just yet.

She’ll come around. I’ve learned that you just have to let her do it in her own time.

And, in the meantime, I helped out a little bit. My mother-in-law has this huge holly and it needed some trimming. So I brought the shears and the pruners and a few other things and went to it this morning. There’s a bird nest in the back, but no one was home. Happily, I was able to leave it undisturbed. I cut back limbs from the house, cleared a path to the water spigot and cleaned up around the dryer vent. It was a productive morning. Here it is before the final trim.

Only after that did she come out and tell me the story of the bush. It was a special gift, and I’m glad I didn’t hear all of the details beforehand, I might not have cut a single leaf off of the thing.

My lovely bride went fishing with her father today. So after I did my part helping out around here, I petted Poe and read awhile. My mother-in-law and I went out for dinner. I drove us to one of their regular haunts and she told everyone she knew there that she’d traded in for a newer model. Had a delicious burger, lovely conversation, and now back here, waiting to hear tall tales of the big one that got away.

adventures / Monday / photo / South Africa — Comments Off
15
Jun 26

Third time was, in fact, the charm

We have made it back home. And, in true us fashion, we are leaving home again. But we are in the United States. It took three tries to leave lovely Cape Town, South Africa. We were due to fly out Tuesday night of last week, but fog and a sick co-pilot nixed us. We were due to fly out Wednesday night, but the still sick co-pilot and a passenger’s medical emergency nixed that effort. Delta has a contractual obligation to not work on Thursdays, apparently, so we tried (and succeeded on Friday.

How it went, we took a cooking class at lunch with a friend and colleague. (It was pretty incredible.) Later, we assembled all of our things once again. My roller, backpack and a small camera bag. My lovely bride’s two rollers and a backpack. Our friend’s 19 pieces of luggage. She was starting to rally and feel much better, but still allowed me to carry most of her things.

Somehow our friend got pushed onto the new, earlier flight. We were on standby for that plane. We were also scheduled for our original flight, the flight of the Delta Damned. Got to the airport, checkin, security, passport control, and through the terminal, all of which stopped feeling novel a few days back and began to feel like a chore.We said our goodbyes, and our friend got in line for her plane. We went to the lounge to kill a bit of time. We made it to our gate, went through the two different boarding queues and the second round of performative personal security. (Guy looked in one pocket of my huge backpack and waved me on.) We got on the plane. By now everyone here pretends like they know one another. We’ve trauma bonded. A guy on the jetway said he had been on this plane twice and immediately took his shoes off, so he wasn’t doing that. I said I hadn’t taken my shoes off, and I was going to do that. We had to shake things up, you see. This was my neighbor, an older woman and, honestly, props.

I talked with the flight attendant who’s daughter went into labor Tuesday. Apparently that woman was still in labor Friday night. Her mom, our Delta companion, was trying to get home and help out.

“So, straight to the hospital, then?”

No, she had to go home in Atlanta, pack a back, and then fly to Portland. I hope she made it in time. But also, for the new mother’s sake, I hope grandma was late.

We were settled in and people around us were getting updates on the other plane. And so were we. They were having a host of mechanical issues. Drains and pumps and lights and things. and then the paperwork. And they were running out of time. There were some empty seats around us so I said, “She should demand they let her off that plane and run over to this one.” They did not. And so, for a third time, she had her flight home canceled.

Our flight, meanwhile, was delayed. The word from the cockpit was “Waiting on paperwork.” And, look, I’m not an efficiency expert, per se, but a great deal of my work and the things I do and try to teach others about are creating efficiencies. And I couldn’t let this slide. Pointing out that we’d been trying to leave since Tuesday and Delta, this airport, the many governments involved, or Charles down in baggage had 72 hours to get their act together just seemed a moral imperative.

Finally the paperwork came. Finally we took off. Finally we were headed to Atlanta. Hours late. I stayed awake with a good strategy for how to sleep. I slept a bit, because my strategy, foolishly, did not take into account that absolutely nothing can happen on that plane in a quiet manner. So I was awake by 5 something.

You know how those in-seat monitors now let you track your flight and gives you an ETA? Never look at that. Because we were bumping right up on the departure time for our Atlanta flight.

All we had to do was this: land, grab our belongings, exit this plane, grab our checked bags, give them to some other security people (because the US doesn’t think the South African security process is sufficient), then pass through security, change terminals, run to the opposite end of the terminal, and make the plane. Since we were late we now had 41 minutes.

We needed 38 of those minutes, and I ran the whole way to get there just in time.

My airplane drink of choice is apple juice (though I am thinking of changing to V-8). I like to pretend it is something more stiffer, like orange, or grapefruit juice. Or four fingers of an off-color scotch. And after all of this, I felt, on that plane out of Atlanta, I had earned my Tennessee apple.

We arrived at Dulles, which was great, since that’s where we were headed. And two of our three bags arrived there, too. I fetched the two bags, wondering how two of these bags made it, but the third didn’t, while my lovely bride went to talk to Delta, wondering how two of these bags made it, but the third didn’t. In Atlanta you collected your bags, walked some more, and then gave them to a guy who turned, put them on a conveyor belt, and they magically appeared on the plane. How did two manage to do that, and one didn’t?

The Delta person offered to let us know when the bag arrived at our nearest airport so that we could go collect it. I believe she laughed at that poor person and gave them the address to which they could deliver the suitcase. We’ll see if it arrives.

Then there was just the shuttle from the airport to the car. The first shuttle drove off without us. We got boxed out by an extended family for the second shuttle. (They come in 30 minute increments.) I feared we might come to blows trying to get on the third shuttle, but we boarded the thing without incident. At that point we just had to hope the car was where we left it (it was) and that it would crank (it did).

And so here is my proof of being back in the country.

We were supposed to arrive on Wednesday at 11:39 a.m. We landed at 11:35 a.m. on Saturday.

And after one full day to adjust to the time zones, we’re going to pick up the kitties.

adventures / food / Friday / photo / South Africa — Comments Off
12
Jun 26

Flying fuel, or staying fuel

Today’s adventure, before tonight’s attempt to escape Cape Town, was to take a cooking class, Cooking With Love. We went back to Bo-Kaap, which we visited a few days ago. This wonderful woman named Faldela brings you into one of those colorful buildings, her family home. The three of us met a family of three and we got a lovely mid-day experience full of jokes and recipes, the medical remedies of turmeric and we made some amazing dishes. The best, lightest naan you’ve ever experienced is the stuff you made at the direction of a master chef.

We also had a curry, some samosas and a few other things. Ginger, fennel, tamarind and the sights and smells that come with them made for a wonderful lunch. All of it coming from the local fusion of Cape Malay cuisine. In this place African traditions have blended for centuries with the foods that Malaysian, Indonesian, and Indian slaves.

I have, for years, tried to figure out the exact words to flesh out my idea, but I would love to take part in classes or restaurant concepts which give you both food and the menu’s foodways, which is to say how the food and its cultural and traditional and historical origins come to us. This wasn’t that, but it was close enough to make me want to look harder for more experiences like that. Also, it was outrageously delicious.

Faldela cracked jokes on all of us — I became Kenny Rogers for the afternoon, and resisted the urge to sing any of his songs — and told us about her family and got everyone to talk about ours. The other people were a mother visiting with her two young adult children. One was in college and the other in graduate school, if I understood them right. Faldela brought out a stack of books, and these, she said, were her gifts to her children, her legacy. These were the names and messages of all of the people she has brought into her home to share the secrets of these delicious meals, and would you like to sign them.

Would I like to sign them. Would I like to fill up a page or two on my own?

She emailed us the recipes. I hope we make some of these things soon. Even if we get something wrong, we’ll just have to keep trying.

And that’s what we’re doing with a plane tonight. For the third time, we’ll catch a ride over to the airport, take part in the pre-flight process, maybe get on a plane, and maybe fly back to the United States. Is the third time the charm?