Road to Sossusvlei

 Recently I purchased a new phone, and it's amazing/infuriating the stuff that survives and doesn't survive the transition. My Instagram account is now locked and, after devoting way too much time to trying to sort it out, I've just given up. In the end it's just a stupid Instagram account, but it did have some cool pictures/comments and I was following some interesting folks, some of whom I only talk to via Instagram. On the end other side there were over 13,000 pictures which suddenly returned from the ether, including this one that I snapped in the early morning on the way to the Sossusvlei to enter the park.

It was beautiful and magical inside the park, but even getting there was extraordinary. I need to find a way to get back there soon and for a longer time.

Paying Off

 Well, it took a while, but I was finally able to pay off my truly excellent friend Phil (his wife Kathy is equally excellent, obviously) for winning the Trip of Mystery competition. Phil should have been celebrated for his gifts of prophecy much earlier, but the pandemic had other ideas. As we can all recall, I turned my 60th birthday into a Trip of Mystery competition, essentially not telling anyone where I was going and selling $5 bets (with all the proceeds going to our non-profit, Techdren). With about two days before departure no one was within five hundred miles of the actual 7 January destination when Phil swopped in with the exact location: Swakopmund, Namibia. It was some serious prophecy, and then I remembered that a few years earlier I had given Phil a Lonely Planet Guide to Namibia in a vain attempt to convince him to go there with me. Still, that was some serious detective work. He didn't say Namibia, he actually chose Swakopmund. That morning I woke up in Windhoek, rented a truck, and drove across the Namib Desert to Swakopmund on the coast. I have a legion of flaws, too many to detail here, but I am a man of my word. It was a delight to pay off Phil for his excellence, and, of course, I paid for Kathy's dinner as well, because, well, she's also excellent. Plus, they put me up in their basement for two months after returning from India in the midst of a global pandemic.

Yes, yet another visit across the lake to Chez Lin & Ray's.

Cold Currents

 I have nothing profound to add here, other than my mind has been filled with memories of travel lately. Obviously, that's true most of the time, but as the Great Isolation drags on my wanderlust is settling in as an almost tangible ache. The other day I was thinking about the morning of my last day full day in Swakopmund when I went for a long walk on the beach. It was a cloudy, brisk day, exactly not the type of day you'd expect in a country that most people would equate with the desert. It was such a pleasure to make it to the coastline, and thus see a very different vision of Namibia.

As we've discussed, although the interior of Namibia is awfully hot, the coastline is cooled by a current that flows up from the Antarctic, which leads to some oddly cool days, especially since I was there in high summer.

What Again?

 Yes, again. I'm just missing travel in general and Namibia in particular.

That extraordinary red sand of Namibia.

On The Beach

 And we're drawing to the close of February, which means that it's been almost year since I last traveled, fourteen months since the Trip of Mystery to Namibia, and sixteen months since Jordan. Sigh. Heavy Sigh. I initially intended to post some more pictures of Namibia, in this from my last night in Swakopmund before I loaded up my rental truck the next morning and headed back to Windhoek (and a very different life). Not surprisingly, these pictures have taken on a much greater weight, especially a metaphorical one, in my mind. Life is changing (well, duh). Yesterday I found myself cancelling the MLB package and my Netflix DVD plan, and instead I'm surviving on the Criterion Channel, Amazon Prime, Spotify, and Audible. I didn't use any of the latter four services a year ago, and had maintained the MLB package and Netflix for years and years. So, a silly observation, one but that showed that the world was changing, and that I was adapting and changing with it. At the same time, not all the changes were so effortless and so painless. When you're contacting physicians with names like Interventional Spine of Vermont to arrange shots in your spine you know that one some level your life sucks. That said, during the last few months of this medical journey have passed through stages where we were, even if often only briefly and tangentially, discussing things like ALS and MS and Multiple Myeloma, the diagnosis of Spinal Canal Stenosis with concomitant nerve and muscle damage (at least this month's popular prognosis) isn't so bad. Essentially, it's not a death sentence, although it still might be a death sentence for the life I want to lead. Which brings us back to the beach at Swakopmund. It wasn't really that long ago when I could/would take off for southern Africa and drive across the desert, was it? The sun set.

One Year?

 Has it only been a year since Namibia? It seems like a thousand years. Part of the reason why it seems so long, obviously, is the pandemic, and the uncertainty surrounding it. My recent health struggles, and, naturally, the uncertainty surrounding it (as well), makes all of this take on greater weight and solemnity. I've had to get my brain around the fact that right now I couldn't travel overseas, or at the very least I couldn't physically lead a student trip. Hopefully we'll sort this all out and they'll be, like the pandemic, another side to it.

This is the Namibia equivalent of stopping in the road in Vermont because of moose. The difference is that the zebra will happily gallop along beside your car.

Sweet Gift

 I've talked a few times about last year's turmoil in my personal life. Before I left for the Trip of Mystery my long-term relationship fell apart and it turned what was supposed to be a celebration of a landmark into a bit of a dirge. It also meant that I ended up not getting any presents for my 60th birthday, which, considering what the world would soon be going through isn't really much of a problem. However, it seems a fitting metaphor for that painful point in my life. However, it's also not completely true, because I did end up getting a gift for my birthday. One of the women who worked at the hotel where I stayed in Windhoek in Namibia figured out that it was my birthday and gave me a large bar of white chocolate. Again, metaphorically, I guess it worked out, because to me it meant that life goes on and you find joy in all sorts of unexpected places.

This is how it arrived. Where it came from I don't know, and I don't care, it didn't stop me from eating it - and from appreciating the kindness.

And Again

 Yes, I know, how many pictures of the Namib Desert can I share? However, I'm amazed that I never included this one, which is quickly becoming one of my favorites (and which will be printed off and framed soon). As we approach the year anniversary of the Trip of Mystery expect more Namibia pictures and stories.

This was snapped in the walkup to Sossusvlei. I posted this on Facebook recently and a couple folks thought it looked like the least welcoming place in the world, but it looks like heaven to me. I wish I were there right now.

Bathroom Break

 There's nothing profound about this picture although for some reason I felt inspired to include it here on the blog. Partially, it speaks to Namibia, which has been much on my mind as of late (has it really been a year since I was preparing to head off on the Trip of Mystery or simply a century?), but also it's a reminder of the challenges of travelling in a place like Namibia. Before I left I knew that Namibia was one of the least densely populated countries in the world, but it's only when you're there that it truly hits you. According to some, probably specious, quick Internet research, here are the least densely populated countries in the world based on people per square kilometer:

235. Greenland .138

234. Falkland Islands .286

233. Mongolia 2.110

232. Western Sahara 2.246 (oddly, I've been doing research on a potential trip there)

231. Namibia 3.086

230. Australia 3.319

229. Iceland 3.404

By way of comparison, the most densely populated is Monaco, checking in a 26,337 people per square kilometer.

It's interesting that of these seven I've visited three and am interested in visiting the other four, which I guess says something about my desire to spend time with other people. My desire to visit them far pre-dates the compilation of this list so I must simply be drawn to the wild and desolate.

Anyway, while our guide was driving us to Sossusvlei the young woman in the group (the hairdresser from Japan, the only other person) needed a bathroom break. It's sometimes difficult to find a place to use the restroom in Vermont, but, believe me, we have nothing on Namibia. The guide pulled over next to a little bridge and she disappeared behind this bush. After a few minutes she came back safe and sound and untroubled by baboons (which would have been my main fear; in fact, it was, during a similar earlier break where I relieved myself while watching a group of them in the distance).

I have a brief, natural, reflection on Donna Reed's character in It's a Wonderful Life.

Clearly Missing the Desert

 I'm clearly missing the desert. Yes, it's a different desert, but it's still clean - and I'm obviously still a desert-loving English (as my friend Steve is wont to opine about me).

Windhoek Gardens

 I was organizing pictures on my phone and I came across a series of photos I snapped of the Windhoek Gardens Boutique Hotel where I stayed during my visit to Namibia. Actually, I stayed there three times in the space of a week: when I first arrived, then when I returned from Sossusvlei, and then when I came back from my journey to the coast to Swakopmund and before I jumped on the plane to head home. I don't normally celebrate hotels on the blog, but it was both a wonderful trip but also a stressful time so I really appreciate the kindness they showed me. That includes wishing me a Happy Birthday repeatedly and one of the nice women who worked there actually bought me some chocolate. It was with gratitude but also sadness when I finally packed up and head back to a lot of uncertainty and heartache. So, if you're ever headed to Windhoek be sure to give the Windhoek Gardens a try - I know I'll be back.

Yes, I was so tired from the endless trip from Montreal to Paris to Frankfurt to Windhoek that I couldn't find the coffee cups.

The lovely little dining room. They also had a quaint bar where I ended up eating several meals.

And, yes, it was awfully nice to leave the frozen tundra of mid-winter Vermont for high summer Namibia.

Like a lot of boutique hotels every room at the Windhoek Gardens was different. This was my first one.

My third one was festooned with crosses. Being an old colony, first German then British, and being far enough south in Africa, Namibia is heavily Christian.

There's a metaphor here somewhere.

The Rain That Swells The Water

 Not surprisingly I've been thinking a lot about Namibia lately. A year ago I was putting the final touches on the planning for the Trip of Mystery, and then suddenly my personal life ended, or at least my sense of where it was headed. Rather, I guess, my the planned path of my personal life ended. I haven't talked a lot about it, but I was caught off guard and it was pretty emotionally crushing for a while. I knew there were problems, but there had never been an attempt from the other side to address them before hand - and my desire to try and work together to make things better, to dig deep and create a solid foundation for moving forward, was dismissed out of hand. In the end, it doesn't matter. If she wasn't happy then she should try and find happiness. Life is simply too short and precious. She could have handled things much better, but has anyone ever handled a breakup cleanly? Anyway, the trip I was looking forward to suddenly had a very dark cloud hanging over it. My friend Steve always jokes that if there is a desert I will find it, so I guess it wasn't much of a surprise that I'd plan a trip to Namibia. That said, the day I arrived to Windhoek at my quirky little hotel the heavens opened in a spectacular storm. For some reason, at that moment, I found it very moving, sort of emotionally cleansing. The previous year I had lived through the end of a desiccated relationship, and something about the torrential downpour gave me hope. I'm trying to capture and harness that emotion right now as I work through this difficult stage of my life.

OK, so I'm stealing lines from Sei Shonagon's The Pillow Book.

Independence Museum

 And more pictures from last January's trip Trip of Mystery to Namibia. I've been posting a lot of pictures recently from overseas (which was the original point of this blog low those many years ago), which is partially a byproduct of trying to clear off my phone and also my own frustration of being trapped here in the US. As I've pointed out a few times on Twitter, one of the great ironies of our Trumpian dystopia is that he started his reign trying to build a wall around America and then somehow managed to do, except that instead of keeping people out his mismanagement of the pandemic has resulted in no one accepting us as visitors. Anyway, here are a few pictures from the Independence Museum in downtown Windhoek, a museum that pays homage to Namibia's colonial and decolonial past - and especially the efforts to pass from one to the other.

Here's the entrance to the Independence Museum, featuring a statue of Sam Nujoma.

This mural is one of several artworks commemorating the Cassinga Massacre of 4 May 1978.

A closeup of the mural.

The museum is, naturally, unabashedly political and has a definite message. I'm thinking of including it this fall in my Aesthetic Expressions course along with a section featuring the Vagina Museum in London, UK and the Museum of Broken Relationships in Zagreb, Croatia.

And then, in some acceptance of the balance of life, on the roof of the Independence Museum there's a lovely little bar and restaurant with a nice view of downtown Windhoek. Truthfully, is this any different than any museum that sells art-themed t-shirts or postcards in the giftshop? You have to fund the art somehow.

Sundowner

 As I've proposed way too often, you can never tell what ends up being a memorable moment on a trip. All too often it ends up being something utterly spontaneous. On the recent Namibia trip, after a day spent exploring the extraordinary Sossusvlei, I found that I was scheduled for a Sundowner. Since my travel agent had done such a good job so far in planning the trip I wasn't too worried about it, but I was tired and the thought of getting out of the pool didn't sound that appetizing. The hotel was on the edge of a cliff, and I assumed that the Sundowner was simply walking up to the top to get to, duh, watch the sun go down. As it turns out it was far more substantial. It ended up being a two plus hour jeep ride that was led by a very nice young man named Niklaas Gowaseb, and the only people on the trip were Serina, the hairdresser from Osaka who I ended up travelling with from Windhoek, and me. As with the rest of Namibia the natural beauty was simply overpoweringly beautiful. It ended when we pulled up to the edge of the cliff and Niklaas asked me to help him carry a cooler. He then set up a mini-bar and we sat and watched the sun go down. It was easily one of the most memorable evenings of my long life.

Niklaas pointing out that these were oryx scat and not coffee beans.

Serina enjoying the view.

Heading out in our truck.

Mommy and baby oryx.

I might have moved a little closer to the end of the cliff if it weren't for the wind whipping so dramatically. It had "Idiot Tourist Falls to Death" headline written all over it.

Niklaas laying out the mini-bar.

Niklaas and Serina were a wonderful crew to enjoy the evening.

I recently sent this picture to my friend Steve and said, "Hey, Steve, I found a desert in Namibia." He was not surprised.

And the requisite sundown to end the Sundowner. I'm starting to miss Namibia so much. It took so long to plan, and, well, get there, that I assumed that I would only go there once. However, I think I've determined that I'm definitely going back. As much as I like travelling alone, I definitely want to go with someone next time just to share it all.

A Little Help

Now that I've started over I figured I needed a little help so these two left the safety of my office and moved to my apartment. They sit on the edge of my kitchen counter facing the door, making sure that no evil juju tries to enter. Hey, I'll take all the help I can get.

The imposing figure on the left is the first mashetani I ever bought, at the utterly insane wood carver's market in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania. He's since been joined by several others, although not as many as my friend Steve owns. I picked up the carving on the right on last January's trip to Namibia at a dealer in Swakopmund. I feel much safer already.

Kucki's Pub

I don't know why I thought this was funny, but I did. It's Kucki's Pub in Swakopmund, where I had one of my last meals while in Namibia.

As it turns out none of these claims proved to be true.

The Actual 60th

And I definitely can't believe that I had not posted these pictures before. This was the actual night of my 60th birthday, the entire point of the Trip of Mystery, which means I was in Swakopmund. It's so utterly strange to think about now, but in regards to my personal life but also the global pandemic (although, hell, three months later Steve and I were somehow miraculously shepherding fifteen students to India and back). My personal life was collapsing, which included the present but also the future, and suddenly my past seemed a lot more foolish as well, and I was in far southern Africa in one of the most beautiful and isolated places on the planet. I'm so happy that I finally made it to Namibia, and the sadness that I may never make it back is almost tangible.

The calendar in the Swakopmund Guesthouse, which was a very lovely place to stay if you're headed to Namibia.

Believe me, it was even more delicious than it looks.

Apparently everyone in Namibia somehow magically knew it was my birthday. Here's an impromptu and heartbreakingly sweet rendition of Happy Birthday.

And, of course, I was having dessert.

Not a bad view from the restaurant, looking out across the bay and towards the massive sand dunes in the distance.