Leaving Mumbai

We're rushing around this morning trying to get organized for the next leg of our journey. I wanted to post on the trips yesterday to the Lakshmi Temple and the Haji Ali Mosque, but a combination of slow wifi at the Hotel Sea Palace and some last minute snafus is going to have to push that off for a couple days. We woke up this morning to find that the credit card machine at the hotel is down and they haven't fixed it yet, which means paying in cash - which is going to put a major kink in our plans (that's a lot of rupees that have to be paid out instead of putting it on a machine). We had factored in money for meals and incidentals (and paying our great friend John back for his arrangements of train and plane tickets), but were planning on putting all the hotels on the credit cards - doh! So, that meant we had to catch at taxi over to Thomas Jones to cash in some of my father's travellers checks as well as running by a bank so that I could use the ATM. Very annoying, but hardly the worst experience that I've had overseas. John will be swing by between 11:30 and 12:00 so that we can begin organizing the rest of our day. The train doesn't take off from Victoria Station until around 3:45, so we were hoping to maybe have lunch or do a little last minute sight-seeing. There's a great museum near here that I've visted a couple times, and I was hoping to convince Annie to run in with me. Once we're finally on the train we're facing a 26 hour train ride down to Katpadi Station, where Mr. Babu from Babu Travel will pick us up at run us over the the big guest hourse at the CMC in Vellore. Tomorrow will be a tour of the hospital itself, which I blogged about before - it was one of my more recent posts where I was trying to recreate earlier experiences. I don't know when I'll be on next, although I can post from my Blackberry for text. Right now, in addition to blogging, I'm also doing last minute packing and charging up my phone and camera. What a day.

Mumbai Monsoon

I know I've posted pictures previously of being in Mumbai during the monsoon, but I just can't help myself. There's just something so Indian about walking around the streets of Mumbai during the oftentimes torrential rains of the monsoon - although, obviously, you have to get over your very western sense of cleanliness. Just become one with the rain - lord knows your clothes will. I have so many memories of the monsoon - all the ants of the neighborhood of my apartment in Bandra migrating to my chest in the middle of the night - stepping out into the flooded street because the taxi couldn't go any further, and having a rat big enough to throw a saddle on swim between my legs - being the only professor on campus who didn't cancel class during a particularly bad flood (yes, who saw that coming?). I'll need to talk to my friend Raj sometime and get the details, but I remember one particularly fierce storm where we were trapped in a Persian restaurant, during a Parsi holiday, eating holiday food and trying, and failing, to look outside - the rain was come down so hard that it was like looking through the wrong side of a waterfall. Here are a few pictures of time we spent walking around Mumbai today - on the way to carpet shopping, and before taking off to visit a Hindu temple and a famous mosque (more on that later). We ended up back at the Leopold Cafe again (yes, I am an ex-pat in the making - although my dad swears I'm already an ex-pat since I left Indiana so far behind so completely) and introduced dad and Annie to the wonder that is the mango lassi. I also took a picture of one of the unrepaired bullet holes from the terrorist attack. On a lighter note, I also took a picture of the, sadly unfilled, yard of beer pitchers.

Carpet Shopping

Some of my best times overseas have been spent shopping for carpets, which often include craftsmenship, societal lessons, tea drinking and quiet theatrics. Today was no exception. Dad, Annie and I walked a couple blocks to the CIE, which is a good place to buy any number of products made by local craftsmen. Dad and Annie were attempting to buy a carpet for his wife, Holly. She wanted a carpet which was more muted and neutral in its colors, which eliminated a lot of the carpet inventory (especially a couple blue and red ones which, if I were not a poor professor, I would have purchased), especially the silk carpets (they tended to be more vibrant in color and wouldn't have worked out). So, we focused our attention, mostly, on the wool carpets - I say mostly because the salesman, who was actually a very nice guy, kept magically slipping in silk carpets for our consideration, even though they were twice the price. However, the price, in this case, was less of a problem than the fact that they just didn't match what we were looking for, but you can't blame him for trying. These carpets were manufactured in Kashmir and were really beautiful. Unfortunately, the negotiations were very peaceful and respectful, and I was unable to initiate the sort of almost operatic high drama that I live for in haggling. We ended up with a lovely carpet, although my father had his heart set on another beautiful carpet but at the last moment we noticed some damage to the carpet which was more substantial than a simple water stain that would wash out. I knew the deal was just about done with the requisite cups of tea appeared.

Leopold Cafe

It was a pretty quiet, although very pleasant first full day in Mumbai. Like I said, I woke up at 8:00 a.m. and did manage to stay up all day, so that should keep me on schedule tomorrow - and tonight I should sleep pretty well. It should be a tougher challenge for my dad and especially Annie (she didn't wake up until 4:25 p.m.). I hung around and caught up with some reading and finally made arrangements for my hotel in Brussels. Around 3:30 our great friend John showed up and we had a lovely chat, getting caught up about his various hobs (he's essentially running two campuses) and family (his great wife, Volga - who may be the best cook in the world, and his kids Will and Jeff). All the time he was consistently taking calls on his mobile, and apparently solving most of the problems of the world with a few words and a shrug - I kept especting him to say a few words about Kashmir and suddenly there would be no more troubles between India and Pakistan. Eventually dad and Annie made their way down and we went for a ride in the Mumbai rain to set our sense of direction. Along the way we caught up with Volga, who was out shopping. John dropped us off at the cool Leopold Cafe, which is a center for western ex-pats in Mumbai (and fit in perfectly with my long-standing desire to be an ex-pat, especially in a Sumerset Maugham novel). It was one of the locations that was focused by the same terrorists who attacked the Taj Hotel (which is right down the street) last year. They left the bullet holes unrepaired as a sign of defiance/remembrance, but the place was packed. They have a great Indian/western/Chinese menu - and these bizarre yards of beer, which are three foot high circular glass containers which they leave on the table (sort of an extended version of the container that held the marinating donkey penis in China from last summer - and the fact that I can make that statement demonstrates what an odd life I lead). We ended up the evening sitting on the front porch of our hotel, drinking coffee and eating ice cream. A pretty blissful evening, with the exception of some persistent beggars who followed us around; it's one of the things that I really like much more about the Middle East than India - as much as I love India, and I do, the begging can wear on you.

Namaste

This will probably not be a long posting, mainly because I'm exhausted, but I wanted to take advantage of the quality wifi (although for the princely sum of 550 rupees a day) from the Hotel Sea Palace and a rare lucid moment for me today to post that I had made it safely to Mumbai. I'm operating on around four hours sleep - coming off about four hours sleep the night before I left - but I'm soldiering one (I'm a big believer in grinding it out the first day of a trip so that you can get back on schedule). The flights were uneventful, although the American Airlines flight from JFK to Brussels was on the oldest and smallest plane I've ever flown across the Atlantic. The food and amenities were, per an American airlines, dreadful - bland food and only a couple movie screens with no choices (my first of two movies was The Tooth Fairy, starring the Rock and, for some reason, Ashley Judd - I sort of watched it with the sound off, and thankfully slept through the second "feature", whatever that was). In Brussels I switched to Jet Airways from India so the plane was new, the service and food fantastic, and each seat had a personal video screen with a movie library (I ended up sleeping most of the way, but did catch the classic The Third Man - I always forget how amazing that film is). I did manage to score an exit row for the JFK/Brussels leg through my usual conniving, but not so for the Brussels/Mumbai leg (although the seats were much bigger so it was not much of an issue). My flight was around a half-hour later getting into Mumbai, which isn't bad. My dad and sister Annie were supposed to get in around an hour later, but their flight was around two hours late, which made for a very late night. We didn't make it to the Hotel Sea Palace until after 3:00 in the morning (and the time difference between Burlington and Mumbai is 9 1/2 hours - it's always the half hour that throws off my calculations). Luckily, the driver that my excellent friend John organized was there waiting, and patiently continued to wait, and everything was fine. I'm in one large room, with a spectacular view of the windswept bay (it's monsoon season) and dad and Annie are down the hall. I tried to go to bed as soon as possible, but they were up after ordering Cokes and chicken sandwiches. One of the last things I remember them saying was to order ice with their Cokes, which I always warn people against in India - hopefully their tummies are OK today. It's a little after 11:00 a.m. and I just let them sleep. I didn't want to miss breakfast so I snuck down to eat early, and met a nice couple from Tuscon who are finishing up four weeks in India - she's from Pune originally and were heading back home. I should also take advantage of this wifi and arrange my hotel in Brussels. I'm thinking of just getting a room in Brussels for three days, but taking a train over to Bruges one day and then another train over to Luxembourg another day. I found a couple really inexpensive options for downtown Brussels, which would allow me to be centrally located, dump my stuff, and travel light for three days - and still grab a hotel room in Bruges for an overnight stay if the place blows me away (although sleeping without the blessed CPAP would make for a rough night). When I talked to John last night from the airport he said he'd swing by this afternoon - can't wait to see him again. Anyway, namaste!

Another Passage to India

OK, so I'm sitting in my apartment writing on my travel blog, when I should be finishing packing - and, for that matter, organizing fairly essential parts of my upcoming trip (where am I staying in Brussels?). Yes, I'm that much in denial. Get up in the morning, check my fantasy league site (which is even more criminal because the Crackers are completely out of the race and I have already dumped), go to Sneakers for breakfast, write on the travel blog - oh well, my friend Bob isn't due here for an hour, and I do know where my suitcase is, even if there's nothing packed in it. However, I do know where I'm going. I'm flying out of Burlington this morning on the way to JFK - with another one of those long layovers that people who fly in and out of Burlington always have to put up with - before taking off for Brussels, and then onto Mumbai, India - arriving around 10:30 on Wednesday the 23rd. About an hour later my father and my sister Annie are arriving. The trip has been almost entirely organized by our amazing Indian friend John Neelankavil, who is a complete saint. We're staying down ty the Gate of India at the Hotel Sea Palace for a few days doing some sight-seeing and getting caught up with John and India. On the 26th we take off for a 28 hour train trip across India, ending up at the Katpadi Station around dinner time on the 27th, and then a couple days visiting the famous hospital in Vellore, founded by Ida Scudder. On the 29th it's on to Chennai to catch a flight up to Delhi, and some sight-seeing there, as well as a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal and the Red Fort. On 1 July we fly back to Mumbai, and then early in the morning on the 3rd we fly out - Dad and Annie back, through Paris to Cincinnati - and I'm heading off to Brussels to stay for three days (somewhere - I do think it will be in a hotel, so I have done some planning) 3-6 July before heading back to Burlington. It's exhausting just thinking about it. OK, now where's my passport?

World Cup

OK, this is definitely something that I never thought I'd say, but I'm completely hooked on the World Cup. I think I've seen at least part of every match so far - it helps to be a professor in the summer, obviously. With every passing World Cup I've been more and more interested in the World Cup, but this year is off the charts. The big turning point for me was when we were living in Atlanta during the 1996 Olympics and my son and I attended the semi-finals of the soccer and rooted Nigeria on to an improbable victory. It was the first time that I got a sense of the spacing and pace and accuracy of the game - and of the insanity of the fans. It also helped this time that I just returned from South Africa and witnessed first hand the enthusiasm that gripped the country - and heard a lot of vuvuzelas before the tournament ever started. I tried to stick around another week - and thus might have been able to attend some matches - but changing my itinerary was simply too expensive. My friend Zanetta has attended three matches and has been sending me constant reports, which has kept me even more engaged. Here are a few pictures: one of her in a sweet South Africa football jersey (which I'm still kicking myself for not buying when I had the chance), one of her outside the main stadium, and one taken inside the stadium. We were texting the other day during the US-Slovenia match - I was rooting for Slovenia and she was rooting for the US (I always root against the US in all international athletic competition, except when they normally have no chance to win) - so in the end she had the last laugh. Oh, and I'm so sick and tired of the annoying whining of Americans about the mysterious bad call at the end of the game. For one thing, how can you not root for Slovenia? The US has 150 times the population of Slovenia, and the economy of the poorest US state would dwarf that of the entire country of Slovenia (it's the ultimate David vs. Golaith story). Plus, I spent a day in Ljubljana, Slovenia one time and absolutely loved it. Finally, and this has come to me from decades of being a Viking fan - if you play down to the level of a lesser opponent (not to take anything away from Slovenia, because they played great and deserved to win - but the US should have taken care of business early on) you have nothing to complain about when the breaks go against you. Quite simply, you should never have put yourself in the position where a blown call should have hurt you. I've only have forty years of the Vikings doing that, so I know what I'm talking about. Anyway, go Bafana Bafana - the team name of the South African team, which I think translates out as something like "the boys." Oh, and how sweet was the tie between New Zealand and Italy today? Amazing.

Life in Vermont: Darts at Akes' Place

As I finish plans for the upcoming India and Belgium trip, I find myself taking time out to post more and more on life in Vermont. Maybe I'm already thinking about my sabbatical overseas, or even different paths that I might follow, and thus I'm treating the website as less of a blog for friends and family and more of a personal document for later reflection. Either way, it's an interesting transformation. Over the last year I've been fortunate to spend a lot of time with some amazing friends, which we always jokingly refer to as the Gentlemen of Excellence (and thus the Ning of Excellence), although it should probably be referring to it as the Gentlepersons of Excellence because of the increasing female representation. One of our favorites haunts is Akes' Place down on Church Street, where we routinely meet for darts and beers (and then the requisite Rise & Shiner at the Kountry Kart). Akes is very popular, and, truthfully, we enjoy it much more in the summer months when the local college crowd thins out a little. Anyplace with not one but two Neil Young posters on the wall is obviously OK with me (although my friends have so far refused to back my plans for creating a diversion so that I can swipe at least one of them). There is also an odd autographed Cincinnati Bengals poster, for which I guess I'm going to have to track down the backstory. Normally I'm an absolutely dreadful darts player (as I am with all things sports-related) and I am routinely placed on the team of the best player (normally the long-suffering Mike Lange) to water down the talent level. However, last night I was obviously channelling Lange's spirit because I was absolutely unconscious and threw the best darts of my life - and, truthfully, should have retired on the spot. I'll post a few goofy pictures that my friend Andy snapped. One is of a sadly errant dart that was thrown by a person who will not be named, especially since I might be meeting her later for a vegan cupcake . . . The other two are of me, again inexplicably, displaying dart prowess. One is of a turn, after closing out 18s, where I threw a single, double and triple 18 for an ungodly number of points - and the other is of the final score of the same game where I racked up 551 points (which, I'm pretty certain, is more than I've accumulated in my entire life - and which my great friend Andy wandering how he scored over five hundred points and lost, let alone losing to me in any fashion). As is well-documented, I cannot throw bulleyes to save my life, so I just keep throwing at 20s and hope that some of the darts will draft down and land in the bullseyes, and, illogically, this strategy worked. Doubtless, this folly was short-lived and I will return to my laughably inept status very soon. What was most cool about the evening is the number of good friends who showed up: Andy Burkhardt, Sandy Zale, Cinse Bonino, Peter Straube, Bill Vespa and Cyndi Brandenburg (our competitors in the chicken wing eating contest - which was discussed last night - Cyndi is already getting her competitive juices flowing, but Bill is not so certain he wants to put himself through that again), and Rob Williams. Sandy and I, who have both taught at other schools, talked about how rare and wonderful it is to teach with so many great friends.

Life in Vermont: the Vegan Cupcake

Yes, I know, a post singing the praises of a vegan cupcake a couple of posts after one recounting the adventure to the A&W restaurant in Middlebury in pursuit of cheese curds does seem a tad odd. However, these are really fantastic cupcakes - plus, because they're vegan I can convince myself that eating so many of them is actually good for me! My friend Cinse introduced me to them, and we manage to make it down to Uncommon Ground once or twice a week (or a day, if needed) in pursuit of the cupcakes. Uncommon Ground is a great coffeeshop down on Church Street, our local alternative to Starbucks (and Vermonters love local alternatives to everything - which is why we don't have a McDonald's in our state capital of Monepelier [the only state capital without a McDonald's], and, for that matter, we don't have a McDonald's in downtown Burlington). It was an absolutely stunning day - sunny with a temperature in the lower 70's, which is the definitive Vermont summer day (although the last two summers we had way too many utterly wet and dreary days), so I rode my large and clunky bike over to Cinse's house and then we walked back downtown in pursuit of cupcakes (sometimes they run out of them, but Cinse told me that they definitely had them that day - because she'd already been there once). I am such a child, and apparently a demonic once, because I get this odd thrill out of the fact that a cupcake and a medium cafe latte is $6.66 - and I've told them that if they change the prices I'll have to take my business elsewhere. After the cupcake extravaganza we went for a long walk down by the lake. Sometimes it's so easy to get caught up in the chaos of everyday life and forget what an amazingly beautiful place Vermont is, so it was great just to sit down by the lake and soak up the sun. An utterly wonderful Sunday.

My Lunch with Jenica

Today I had a lovely lunch with my good friend Jenica Norrish - the first of what I think is going to be a year of goodbyes. Jenica and her husband Tom are leaving Champlain and heading to California for an exciting new opportunity. In between a new city and new jobs for both of them, they're also expecting their first child. So, exciting times in the Norrish travelling road show. We met at The Spot down on Shelburne Road - it's the first time I had ever eaten lunch there and it was pretty good. Jenica is one of my closest friends at Champlain and I'm going to miss her tremendously, although I'm also excited for where she is and where she's headed (both geographically and in life itself). She played a huge role in the success of the GMs when she spent a year assisting me - and also travelling with me to Jordan so that she could meet the students at the University of Jordan. We also did some sight-seeing, including an epic trip to Petra where she constantly made use of not one but two cameras - Jenica Camerahands. She ended up taking something like eight hundred pictures - some of which she blew up and gave to me and which I proudly display in my office. Not only did she produce some important publicity for the GMs, she also constructed the GM blog. She's a complete travel junkie and has already put in reservations for wherever I spend my sabbatical, especially if it is in Africa. Last year she was part of a great team of Champlain folks who made their way to China. I'm including two pictures, one of which includes the famous Jenica rolling of the eyes which I've only seen about a thousand times. Normally when people leave the great fear is that you'll never see them again. In regards to Jenica I don't have that fear at all - I'm taking the same approach that my best friend David Kelley and I always take to New Orleans - we know we'll be back. I know Jenica and I will remain close. She's taught me so much about taking chances and has always been a remarkably supportive and faithful friend. Safe travels, Jenica, and thanks for keeping me a part of the adventure!

Life in Vermont: Pursuit of Cheese Curds

Yesterday I had a real treat - a trip back in time to the almost antedeluvian age when restaurants provided curb service. I can't remember the last time I went to a restaurant with curb service (that is, where they actually bring the food to your car). When I was growing up in Indiana the local Frisch's Big Boy restaurant had curb service, but that went the way of all flesh years ago (probably about the same time that the burgers on the Big Boy became so thin that you could see through them). My friend Mike and Andy had been pestering me for some time to make a trip down to Middlebury to eat supper at the local A&W Restaurant. Their main interest in the trip was to get orders of the mythic fried cheese curds (they both went to graduate school at the University of Wisconsin, so they know their cheese). So, we jumped in Mike's car and drove south on route 7 - fighting the traffic (or at least what passes for traffic in Vermont) - and made our way to Middlebury. There is a very good college in Middlebury, but, obviously, its significance pales in comparison to a restaurant that serves cheese curds. We arrived around 6:00 and a very nice Middlebury student took our order. Because of some obscure Vermont statute we had to order the cheese curds (at least that how Mike and Andy explained the legal implications to me) - they went for the chili dog meal, while I ordered the double cheeseburger and the vanilla milk shake. The meal was quite good - and, certainly, very heart friendly. On the way back we had to stop so that Andy, who doesn't have a car, could take a look at a truck for sale on the side of the road. He seriously considered it, mainly because of the aesthetics of driving a 1978 Ford truck with a gun rack - at this point he's still considering an offer. Overall, a very cool day. The last year has been monumentally dreadful on every conceivable front, but Mike and Andy have been extraordinary friends and, even though it's an old chestnut, it's true that times like these really let you know who your true friends are - and I can't imagine better ones. After arriving back in Burlington we met our friends Sandy and Peter for darts at Ake's Place, and then the requisite Rise & Shiner at the Kountry Kart Deli (now, if I can only figure out what these strange shooting pains are in my left arm?).

Life in Vermont: the Rise & Shiner

OK, so one of my favorite and consistent complaints about Vermont is the lack of good food - with a couple exceptions, and I'll have to blog about the most excellent Four Corners of the World Deli sometime. The situation becomes even more pressing if you're looking for late night snacks - you know, the utterly greasy food that is a necessity at 1:00 o'clock in the morning. If you're down on Church Street, our main pedestrian shopping area, your only real choice is the Kountry Kart, which is open around 20 hours a day. It is pretty limited - mainly because there are no tables or chairs - and so you either have to stand next to the counter or front door and eat - or eat on the sidewalk outside (which can be a bit bracing during the endless Vermont winter). Still, any port in a storm. Luckily, the Kountry Kart serves wonderful post-bar food, including the incomparable Rise & Shiner, which is a mix of egg, sausage and home fried potato on a bun - delicious. Luckily, my good friend Andy Burkhardt is always up for a Rise & Shiner, no matter how late it gets - whereas some of my other "friends" beg off at the last moment (although our great friend Steve Wehmeyer joined us last time and is now a convert). Here's a picture of Andy and his utterly cool girlfriend Heidi devouring a Rise & Shiner - and, typically, standing next to the front door. Beyond the delicious taste of the Rise & Shiner, I must be drawn to it for other reasons as well - I grew up in Rising Sun, Indiana and their team name is the Shiners - it's almost mystic.

Back in VT

OK, so I've made it back safe and sound to Vermont, and am missing South Africa far more than I thought possible. I'll include a cool picture of some guys surfing that I took the last day I was walking around the beach at Port Elizabeth. Yesterday morning I was working out in the fitness center in my apartment and a story came on the TV with a reporter talking about the world cup and reporting live from Johannesburg - and I had that bizarre reality flash where you can't believe you were just there the day before. The trip back was pretty painless, all things considered. There were no new movies in the rotation on the South African flight, so I ended up sleeping for a lot longer than I normally pull off - and also listening to Kind of Blue by Miles Davis about five times (it was one of the musical choices, and much appreciated). The flight from Johannesburg to JFK was seventeen hours, and I didn't score a bulkhead or emergency row seat, but it turned out OK anyway. We stopped in Dakar to refuel, and that was pretty painless. I never add stop-overs where I leave the airport to my list of countries visited - so Senegal goes in that special queue with England, Belgium and Uganda of countries that I need to "revisit" - although I will be adding Belgium this summer on the way back from India. Can't wait to get back to South Africa.

The Last Waltz

I took advantage of some downtime to go back to the beach, this time walking the other direction. PE is definitely earning its reputation today as the Windy City. It's funny how I always forget how much I like the ocean and beach. I spent a long time watching some surfers. Now I'm sitting in a Wimpy Burger enjoying a vanilla milk shake. It's good to know that life does provide some certainty. I'd better rally - I need to finish packing, get to the airport, catch my two hour flight to Johannesburg, and then my seventeen hour flight to JFK - at which I have an ungodly layover - maybe I can catch an earlier flight.

Out of Africa

I can't believe this is my last day on this trip. My friend Chantel is coming around 1:00 p.m. to fetch me to take me to the airport for my late afternoon flight. This has been an odd trip - although, to be fair, I guess all my trips are a little odd. In this case what is jumping out at me is how happy and contented I feel right now. Truthfully, I didn't even want to go on this trip. In so many ways I was just about at my professional and personal nadir when I boarded the plane in Burlington almost two weeks ago. Now, however, I feel completely recharged, both professionally and personally. Maybe for the first time I'm starting to "get" Africa. I can say without a doubt that I've fallen in love with South Africa. I remember that it wasn't until my mystic night watching the sun go down in Mukawir in Jordan (while watching the lights of Jerusalem twinkle on and listening to the evening call to prayer from two different hillside mosques) that I understood the Middle East and grew to love it. I think it's also true that it wasn't until my second trip to India, when I disappeared into the chaos of ten of thousands of Indians (much to my friend Michelle's horror/chagrin) celebrating a Hindu festival, that I understood India and instantly fell in love with it. I can't wait to come back to Africa, and I know it will be soon.

Kudos to the Kudu

After having my super-genius librarian friend Kate explain to me what a Kudu is (as she said, she invested $50,000 in learning how to use Google), I thought I would post a picture of it. It's a very large antelope species that inhabits eastern and southern Africa. It looks potentially dangerous, so I'm sure I'll get some sort of humanitarian award to devouring him. He's now joined his interspecies comrades that jumped, of their own free will, into my belly - ostrich, crocodile, camel, donkey, wild boar, etc. Ironically, I'm not even much of a meat eater, with the exception of chicken - and even that was contaminated by my eating chicken feet in China. Thank you my animal brothers!

A Night Out

Tonight I think I had more fun than I've had since the world was young. Chantel Harris and her husband Mark took me out to eat at a local restaurant called Ginger. What a great meal. They both had beef with a chocolate-chili sauce, which is their favorite, and I had kudu (which is a local beasty - sort of like a springbok only much bigger) smothered in a mushroom sauce. We also had a first-rate South African wine (South Africa is known for its great wines) and some very tasty desserts. They are a wonderful couple who have two small kids, ages four years and eighteen months. We discussed politics, popular culture, television and children (they have their own version of my son Gary's mystic coin in nose trip to the emergency room). They told me that on my next trip through Port Elizabeth that they'd treat me to a traditional South African cookout - I can't wait.

On the Beach