Monday « Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

Monday

It’s an itch

Poison ivy status: The backs of my hands have blistered up. My arms are terribly itchy. But it’s all there on hands and arms. No fever, no real additional spreading. Just a painful inconvenience. I have been applying Neosporin and Cortisone and some other lotion that we have that has the magic words on the label. Extra Cortisone has been acquired. Calamine lotion, too. I wake up itching, of course. More accurately: I wake up scratching, which is when I’m doing the most of it. Will power only gets you so far and not that far at all when you’re unconscious.

It doesn’t feel nice in the heat. It is about to get terribly hot. We are approaching the end of week one of this by the book consequence to hasty and stupidity.

You know what else doesn’t feel good just now are my cycling gloves. Fingerless gloves are meant to be a protective bit of accessory, but the worse of my blisters are on the backs of my hands and … ouch.

Anyway, we went out for a short ride today. Just long enough to get in some posed photos.

There is a Strava segment near our house and it seems to me that I should be offended that I don’t own the best time on the Strava segment that is near our house. It is a .8 mile stretch that starts with a downhill and then comes back up. It’s nothing, but, then, neither am I. Also, I usually try this on those days when my legs feel good, but always at the end of a ride, when “good” is a relative term, anyway. (You wouldn’t do it at the beginning of a ride, because you aren’t warmed up, but I should try that sometime, just to see.)

Anyway, we only rode for a half hour and so my legs were basically warmed up but I was not tired, so i gave it a go.

And now I have the second fastest time of that Strava segment, improving my best by three seconds, and now just seven seconds off the overall.

I’m, also, almost out of tricks for improving my time. Not sure where I can find eight more seconds.

Here’s another little video from earlier this month at Kruger National Park. This elephant was, momentarily, not happy that we were there. I was characteristically thrilled he was running right to me. I took out the audio because mostly you can hear our guide try to warn him off, and then begin to move his truck as a precaution. But the elephant was running a bluff, and we’re all still here of course.

I was, initially, a bit ambivalent about the idea of a safari, but found myself won over on the first day. The views were lovely, the animals we encountered were outstanding and each one felt unique, and our guide was top notch. The entire experience was stress free, aside from early morning wake ups. If we ever find ourselves in South Africa again, and going on a safari again, it’ll be with Wild Wings. And if you’re considering doing such a thing, do it. And book it with Wild Wings. They were terrific.

adventures / cycling / memories / Monday / photo — Comments Off
22
Jun 26

The memory, the bike, the bush, the lightning

We celebrated 17 years of marriage this weekend. I put on the same shirt I wear every year. Her mother gifted it to me years ago. It’s the shirt I was wearing when we got engaged. It was the shirt I wore the night I took this photo, the night before our wedding.

We hired a friend who is a photographer to shoot the big day, and she did a great job with our engagement photos, in a nor’easter, and on our wedding day, just about the hottest place in the country on the hottest weekend of the year. There is no such thing as summer wool.

I made reservations at a local farm-to-table sort of place. There were two whole tables occupied, and by the end of the evening we pretty much had the place to ourselves. It was a nice, quiet dinner to mark the passage of time. Too much time. And not enough. All of it moving so fast. None of it slowing down, which would be the polite thing for time to do.

Seventeen years is really 21. I’ve been counting the days, each one a blessing, but ya know, maybe I should have been counting the laughs and the memories, both of which mean more with every passing … day.

Got back on the bike this weekend. It’s only been, I dunno, a month, which explains a lot. But I had a perfect afternoon for it. The water was low, the clouds high, the breeze in my face, and so on.

It’s good to see that the local farming has continued neatly since I’ve been out this way. Whoever is working this field hasn’t been working in my yard!

Which would be a silly thing to do, but a thing I would appreciate.

Today we went out for a ride together and I get well and thoroughly dropped. The nice thing about it was that this was an out-and-back route, so when she turned around, because she was ahead of me, and came back the other direction it didn’t seem like I was that far behind after all.

But after I turned around, chased back on, caught up, and got dropped again, I was Dropped. And then the clouds rolled in. At least they were in front of me, which means I could monitor my progress, or judge when I was going to get wet.

It was a race, of course. Sometimes you’re determined to win, and sometimes you’re defeated by meteorology.

But, sometimes, it is a draw. I was standing in the driveway, putting things away, when it started to rain.

We have an oversized bush by the garage, and it’ll get trimmed back soon, but the wind and the weight of the rain showed that some of them needed to be cut back sooner. They were in the way of progress, or parking the car. So I grabbed the old hedge shears, and that’s when the lightning and thunder moved in.

I only needed to cut two branches, no, that one, too. Three branches. I only needed to cut three branches. Lightning, rumbling, rolling in from the north. This is how I stayed safe. I waited in between lightning bolts. Then I leaned out, one foot in the drive, one foot in the garage, snip, and then duck back in the garage. Three times, thinking, with a grin, Out here, on the edge of the driveway, si where I’ll do something foolish and hurt myself one day.

But not today. Or tomorrow. I’ll find something to do on the other side of the house tomorrow.

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 / Monday / South Africa — Comments Off
8
Jun 26

Eating all the fishes

Slow day today, here in Cape Town. The weather wasn’t the most cooperative, but that’s OK. Winter is trying to roll in here, and the weather has been charming throughout the trip. Seldom do we take a trip, in fact, where the weather doesn’t accommodate the day’s plans. We got rained on one day in Switzerland a few years ago. Two years ago we had some weather happen some diving in Mexico. It’s just going to happen that you get a day that invites you to stay inside.

This is what we did.

We attended a bit more conference. My lovely bride had a meeting at the conference. I sat and read, which was delightful. The rains came in. We went to the spa and got massages. They were quite nice. Not as good as my last one, but also I didn’t feel beaten up after this one, either. There are always trade offs in the muscle moving game. Also, I think I’m getting a bit better at learning to relax somewhere closer to the beginning of a massage than the end. Progress!

We went to dinner at a place everyone who has been to Cape Town told us about, Codfather, in Camps Bay. They say they have an extravagant menu. They do. Their website asks, “Why eat when you can feast?” and, friends, this is the sort of gastronomical rhetoric to which we can all abide.

This is how it works. You make a reservation. You rent an Uber. The Uber drives us over a small mountain pass and into the appropriate place. He tells you to enjoy your dinner. You go inside and upstairs. It’s crowded and every space is filled with tables and chairs and people. It is loud. The few places that aren’t filled with guests are packed full of employees. There is a great hustle to the place, which we haven’t seen a lot of lately and it’s really quite off-putting.

We were stuffed into a little corner besides some guys all pretending for one another that they’d been in special forces. (One of them might have been in the artillery. He yelled loud enough.) The staff comes to tell you what dinner is like. Every table gets the same sides. You can order your drinks at the table, but you must go up to the counter to order your fish. There are a handful of guys standing there, waiting for you. They’re going to guide you through the selection. They tell you about everything they have available.

They tell you about the waters were the fish were caught, local and farther away. They tell you how the waters were there this afternoon, when your dinner was hoisted from the sea. They tell you about the personality of the mother of the man who brought the fish to the shore.

You go through all of the cases like this. It takes several minutes, because they have an extravagant menu. And if you aren’t perfectly attuned to the guy, or if you are somehow distracted by the din of the place, you’ll miss something important, like what was playing on the radio in the truck that brought this food to the store. Once you’ve gone through all of the cases you tell the guy what you want. He repeats this to a man behind the counters. And he’s smiling in an overly friendly way. It’s loud enough that some things need to be repeated, and this new guy is smiling all the way. And then you get to pick the particular pieces you want, and that man is now smiling like a maniac.

We ordered what seemed like enough food, and then got what seemed like a little bit more. Something about the entire process makes you forget yourself, your inhibitions, your idea about what’s right for two people, and the entire notion of what anything costs, because you have no idea.

But food here is either reasonable or entirely inexpensive. And tonight’s meal, which turned out to be both a lot of food and precisely the right amount, somehow, was inexpensive. Also, it was delicious. Go to the Codfather. I’d go again.

After dinner we walked down the hill and around the corner because it was time for …

Caught an Uber back to the hotel to address our things. Tomorrow is our last day here, but we still have a lot to do.

adventures / Monday / photo / safari / South Africa — Comments Off
1
Jun 26

Other animals at Kruger National Park, part three of day four

After this morning’s cheetah experience, I could have called it a day. Could have called it a safari. But we were hardly done. Indeed, that was just the start of day four. (And there’s our final ride tomorrow.)

We saw a lot more, including:

Vultures (not pictured)
Jackal (not pictured) (So there was a kill nearby.)
Ostriches
Wildebeest
Rhino (not pictured)
Red crested corran (not pictured)
Kudu
Elephants
Guinea fowl
Mongoose (not pictured)
Hornbill (not pictured)
Roller
Zebra
Giant bony plated lizard (not pictured)

Pretty much all of the ones not pictured are for practical reasons. They were on the wrong side of the vehicle, the photos just weren’t good or, like the rhinoceros, they were too far away. Had the rhino been closer that would have been an equally exciting moment. At a distance, and through binoculars, we had a few nice contemplative moments considering the plight of that species, and the poachers and smugglers that are threatening them. Simon, who has been doing this sort of work for 20-plus years, says he is now charting the number of times a year he sees the rhinos. This was just his 14th encounter of the year.

This evening, we had a pleasant and peaceful ride, but it was more of a hayride than safari. The spotlights were spotty, and the conditions were not especially conducive to conventional photography. Nevertheless, we saw:

Verreaux’s Eagle Owl (backlit against the red sky) (not pictured)
Side-striped jackal (Very rare) (not pictured)
Black banned jackal (not pictured)
Common African cat (not pictured)
Large spotted genet (in the spotlight, below)
Hippos (not pictured)

Our last safari ride is tomorrow. Let’s make it a good one.