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An observer

Silent and stealth.

Channeling feelings of those I see,

Recognize.

Preferring solitude,

Maybe.

True happiness to that which is

Settled for.

Destiny unfolds.

Awaiting my command

Or surprise.

We'll see.

Cannonball

When it comes to travel I jump right in, like doing a cannonball off a diving board, and knowing I can swim and won't drown.  I am a big picture planner, consciously not doing much research about where I am going, wanting to be surprised when I get there.  Basically I pick a location, find a place to stay, buy airfare, GO (i.e. cannonball) roll with whatever happens and have fun.

When I traveled to Bhutan two years ago, that's exactly what I did and had a great experience.  But now I am questioning my methodology...

A few months ago I saw a tweet from the Cleveland Council on World Affairs promoting a documentary about Bhutan. Cool, I thought.  I've  been to Bhutan, the land of Gross National Happiness and "real" Buddhists. I thought I may meet some like minded and interesting people at the movie and immediately registered (cannonball, not even reading the title of the movie) put it on my calendar, and didn't think much about it.

The night of the event I arrived at a small theatre in Cleveland to see the documentary "The Refugees of Shangra-La" and, just as advertised, it was about refugees from Bhutan who "resettled" to the United States, many in Cleveland.  There were was a bunch of refugees in the audience and after the screening they shared their experiences of the transition moving half way around the world to Cleveland.

Whoa...refugees from Bhutan?!?  How can that be? Bhutan touts "Gross National Happiness".  I was there first hand experiencing the happiness! But now I understand that my trip was filtered, edited, propaganda, and I didn't really pick up the extent of it.  If I would have done some research before going to Bhutan I would have known about the refugees.  I feel duped.

Would have I gone to Bhutan if I had known about the refugee problem? Had I known before I went would I have had a different experience?  I'll never know. 

I do know this, Shangra-La doesn't exist.

Moving On

When you begin counting down.  That is how you know the time to a major event is getting closer. 

5. That is how many more nights I have left to sleep in my house. 

16. The number of years I have lived here. 

28. The number of places I have lived so far.

There is a saying that home is where the heart is. Mine is not here anymore. I fell out of love with my house. When your heart is no longer where you live, that is how you know it is time to move on.

Peace. That is the feeling you have when your heart knows you made the right decision.  Peace is what I feel tonight.

Off Day

High above the Mara River I think I am looking over the border into Kenya.  The winds are picking up, a refreshing breeze blows around me, through me. The clouds give way to sun, then more clouds overtake.  The blue and white skies above the northern Serengeti plains in constant flux. 

The migration has not arrived at Sayari. We are waiting, wondering, when, if.  Those who have not seen it are impatient, leaving early in the morning and frantically driving south to find it. Others that have seen it are contemplating what it would mean to see it again, what if it would pass right in our path once again.

My intentional day off has given me a chance to reflect, regroup, breathe.  Soaking in all that is around me, not wanting to forget, though know these feelings will fade as time passes.  Written words and pictures are sure to evoke memories, snapshots in time.  Treasuring that this trip was shared with a forever friend; knowing that we will relive these moments in days to come. Absolutely sure my first time in Africa will have lasting effects on future directions and decisions in my life.  

Halfway through the Northern Serengeti

Our trip extension to the far north is so different than where we have traveled thus far.  Our group of six, now halved: Jackie, Justin, me.  

At this moment we are in the middle of a wildebeest migration, near Migration Camp. Just as incredible as the zebra migration 4 days ago near the Seronera River. I am overwhelmed and overjoyed as this is one of the reasons we extended the trip, hoping to encounter these tens of thousands of wildebeest as they move north toward the famous Mara River.  Dense masses of wildebeest as far as the eye can see in all directions.  The eerie grunting calls of the leaders, generals, resonating loudly as they command the herd forward.

We leave the migration and head north on the "main" road. A lonely lane of bumpy washboard, red dirt, boulders, small streams, mud.  Only a few side circuits jetting out, their terrain worse, at times even impassable. Second gear, third gear, back to second, first, never engaging fourth. Poly poly, slow.  "Bumping" Justin often calls out in his sing songy voice from the driver's seat. "Hold on and close the windows" as we drive through muddy streams.  "Floor it" Jackie and I cry out in unison as we cross a small river bed, strategizing how to get up the bank.

The  tsetse flies we have for the most part avoided are out in full force. Flying teeth.  There is no weapon known to fight them off, only soothing your bloody battle scars at the end of the day.

A comfortable silence is sharply contrasted by the noise of the road.  An occasional calling out of a sighting: warthog,  impala, topi, ostrich, klipspringer, zebra, water buck. A squeal of delight and immediate command of "stop" from Jackie, aka Mama Tembo,  when we encounter elephant. 

The Serengeti plains seem to go on forever. Light green mark the plains, dark green the trees. Tall grasses grow along the sides of the road, not yet consumed by the impending migration. 

My dream of seeing the wildebeest cross the crocodile infested Mara River into Kenya is soon to become reality.

The Southern Serengeti

Days are measured by sunrise and sunset, not days of the week or numerical dates. Changing landscapes mark time passing.  A peaceful, tranquil state meshing with a heightened sense of awareness.  

The jolting of the LandCruiser over dirt and bush and rock, sand rivers, pools of water and washes.  No hurrying, no worrying as we amble through the endless southern Serengeti plains, noticing all the animals we have already studied in detail.  But today is different, we are looking for the cats: lion, cheetah, leopard; simba, duma, chui. 

Constantly scanning the horizon.  Stop, scan, move ahead. Stop, scan, move toward tall grass.  Stop, look, move.  Searching in umbrella trees, prickly acacias, watering holes, tall grasses. Relying on the skilled eyes, experience, and intuition of Tumaini to guide us through the plains.  

Our usual joking banter is tempered, quiet, serious. 

My light beige hat now covered with layers of dust: sienna, copper, gray.  My exposed skin gritty, like the pages in my journal.  My lips dry and chalky.

A carcass surrounded by both white back and griffin vultures, necks elongated picking through the remains. Maribou storks join them.

The hours pass by...

Then we see them, lions, simba. 5 females, 2 males. Mature, the males full maned. We drive toward them, getting close enough to see with our eyes the details of their large teeth, golden eyes, pink noses and tongues, massive paws, long tails, battle scars.  Briefly I see cubs, buried in the tall grass, basketball sized lumps of golden fur.  Our patience paid off...

On Safari

Well, I have been too busy to write posts to my blog while on safari, but have been posting quick & random thoughts on Twitter @zengirle and Jackie has been writing posts on her blog http://perchja.blogspot.com

Invite me for cocktails or dinner when I return and I will share stories and Jackie's safi "awesome" pictures!