Visiting Tim While He was in the Peace Corps- Second Trip

Saturday, November 15, 1997  (11:34 am)

I am sitting on a bench overlooking a fenced-in pond stocked with tropical wading birds. It is hot, so I sat in the shade. Yesterday morning when I got up to spend a couple of hours in my Boulder, Colorado office before I left, I had to shovel six inches of snow off the sidewalk.

I’m at the zoo in Santa Cruz, one of the ways I plan to spend the day here in Bolivia’s second largest city. I expected a raw, thrown together town in

the jungle. Instead, it is very clean and well-organized, situated in a verdant savanna. The zoo, a green oasis in the concrete city, is the best I have seen South America.I arrived here this morning, leaving Denver 17 hours ago. I feel pretty well, as I was able to get 4 to 5 hours of sleep on the leg from Miami to La Paz. Tim will be coming in on Lloyd Aero Boliviano this evening from Cochabamba. I will join his flight as it continues on for another two hours to Manaus, Brazil, in the heart of the Amazon! Between now and them, I will see the rest of the zoo, have a long lunch and perhaps visit a flea market. The only negative is that my 26 lb. pack/suitcase, which I dare not let out of my sight, gets heavier every time I pick it up.

Monday, November 17

A lot has happened since my last entry. I never did make it to the flea market but rather spent most of the day at the zoo,

Santa Cruz, Bolivia Zoo

including taking a nap on the grass under a tree, I decided to return early to the airport but, just down the street, I came across a Canadian bar where I found some La Batt’s beer and English conversation. Tim’s plane came in at 7:30 p.m. and we just were able to extract his checked baggage in time to make the departing 8:15 p.m. flight to Manaus. On the flight Tim started to tell me about how he had to rush around at the last moment to obtain his entry visa for Brazil. This was quite interesting to me as I wasn’t aware of the need for one. I had no choice but to stay on the plane and try to get through passport control. pleading stupidity, which of course was just the case.

Well, even though we had a sympathetic officer who appeared to be willing to look the other way, someone else got involved who claimed she did not want “to take the responsibility” and I was denied entry. We had to get back on the airplane which was continuing on to Caracas. While the airline was obliged to give me free passage, I had to put more than $700 on a credit card so that Tim could accompany me. The ticket agent really tried to put it to me in charging that much, but I had the last laugh. That charge somehow never showed up in my bill, ha! All this occurred around midnight after a long day.

We finally got to Caracas around 3:30 a.m. and took a taxi to a cheap hotel nearby. We awoke just before noon and, after stopping at the airport to cash money orders and to get out bearings, we took a taxi up the mountains to Caracas, which is situated 900 meters above sea level.

We checked into the hotel Las Americas (Where I had stayed many years before when I first arrive in Venezuela with the Peace Corps in 1966) and spent the afternoon walking the Sabana Grande and eating a fine seafood meal. I am determined not to let this “change in plans” ruin the trip. We spent much of today, Monday, in a very disorganized travel agency attempting to arrange a trip to the Venezuelan Highland’s resort of Canaima, near Salto Angel. Also I am having difficulty making my cash card work in the appropriate machines here and have wandered all over in an attempt to cash travelers checks.

View of the tepuis from Campamento Canaima

Tuesday, November 18

It’s 10:31 a.m. and I’m sitting next to Tim on an Avensa flight to Canaima. When we got to the Caracas Airport this morning, two hours before the flight as required, we were hustled into

Tim in Campamento Ucaima

signing up for a full-day boat/jeep tour from the camp to the base of Salto Angel. The cost was an additional $125 each, which seemed a little steep, but when are we going to get to this part of the world again?

Last night, after finally picking up the last part of our ticket package from the travel agency at 5:00 p.m. and finding a money exchange house to cash some money orders, we took the “Metro” to Plaza Bolivar. This is a more upscale part of Caracas and the statue of the “Libertador” astride a horse was impressive. There was an orchestra warming up when we arrived, so that we decided to take a long walk and return to their music. Unfortunately, even after an hour they still hadn’t started and, as were tired from the frustrations of the day, we took the Metro back to our station of Chacaito and turned in.

Wednesday, November 19

View from Canaima

It is a small world. The Canaima lodge we have arrived at was founded by “Jungle Rudy,” a Dutchman whom I knew in Puerto Ordaz thirty years ago. In fact, he lived with me for a while when he was down on his luck. Ending up in the resort he founded was purely by chance.  Also, one of the guides at the camp attended Fe y Alegria in Puerto Ordaz where I taught in the Peace Corps, although well after I had left. He tells me that the Sisters Teresa and Sacramento, two nuns that I knew, are still there.

We took an afternoon trip to Salto Sapo the first day. the waterfall was broad and we were able to walk behind it.

Today we were picked up at 5:15 a.m. for our trip up the river in a dugout canoe to Salto Angel. There were 16 total in our group

Goin’ up river to see Salto Angel

divided up into two boats. All the Venezuelans were excited about a professional baseball player, Omar Vizquel, and his wife being among us. The trip up river took most of the morning and we finished it off with a long hike through the jungle to the base of the world’s highest waterfall, 1005 meters. After the clouds finally parted, we were treated to a spectacular view. The day was memorable and goes a long way towards replacing that which we had expected from a visit to the Amazon.

Friday, November 21

Tim and I are sitting in an English pub called La Reina Victoria in Quito, Ecuador. Yesterday we left Canaima at noon and spent the day traveling to Quito where we arrived at 9:30 p.m. We took a taxi to the hotel Real Audiencia in the Centro Colonial of the city. We spent this morning on a walking tour through that part of town where they have attempted to maintain the original building facades and character of the early XVII century.  As we could find no place to exchange travelers checks or a travel agency to purchase tickets for our planned flight to the coast, we took a cab to the “new city.”

This part of town is much more modern, with a lot of European-looking faces on the street. However, we were well reminded that we are still in Latin American as it took one-half day to organize our airplane tickets through an agency, and then we really didn’t get what we had been promised. The Quitenos are very friendly and the city, which almost strides the equator at 9,300′, has a pleasant climate with green hillsides and palm trees in the city plazas. Lots of cars, and of course, lots of evidence of poverty, but overall, the inhabitants appear healthy and happy, with a fairly good level of prosperity.

Jungle trek to see Salto Angel

Salto Angel through the clouds

Sunday, November 23

Yesterday morning Tim and I got up, checked out of the hotel and took a taxi up to the tortured looking statue of the Virgin on Panecillo. This “sugar lump” hill gives a wonderful panoramic view of much of Quito.

Just after mid-day we flew from Quito to Guayaquil on the coast and Ecuador’s largest city. We then took a bus about 110 K’s north to the fishing village/resort area of Playas. The heat and humidity of this place is overwhelming.

After checking into a mid-level Las Redes Hotel, we walked the beach, which was populated by late day bathers and a long row of fishing boats. Our room was sweltering last night and while trying to let in some cool air we just invited in a mosquito party. Today we moved to a better hotel, El Tucano, and got a room with air conditioning. We now sit beside the pool, reading and contemplating what to do with the rest of the day.

Monday, November 24, 1997

We decided to leave Playas early. However , it rained all last night (El Nino) and we were afraid the bus would not be able to  make it back to

Beach at Playas, Equador

Guayaquil. We saw a number of flooded out homes and intersections with more than a foot of water. Eventually we made it to the airport just to find the whole place flooded with everyone who could perched on any elevated surface.

Tuesday, November 25

Flooded Guayaquil airport

By good luck we were able to exchange our Quito return tickets on SAETA, which was  closed down, for TAME which still had occasional flights. We arrived mid-day to a drier, yet very overcast, Quito. A very friendly taxi driver took us up the central valley to the indian arts and crafts town of Otavalo about 100 K’s north.

The driver talked to us of history, current politics and took several side trips to show us sites of interest. We looked at several hotels in Otavalo and decided upon the Ali Shungu, which was highly praised in the Lonely Planet guidebook. We especially like gathering around the fireplace. We find this pueblo very charming with friendly Indians who still wear their region’s costumes on a daily basis. Everything possible to be made of wool is for sale. Quality is good and prices are very low.

A favorite photo. Notice the “LATITUD 0′ 0′ 0′ ” banner in the background, we’re standing on the equator with my pant legs still wet from being in the Guayaquil airport on the coast hours before.

Our friendly taxi driver and me somewhere between Quito and Otavalo.

Thursday, November 27 (Thanksgiving)

Tim and I are sitting on bus in Otavalo’s “Terminal Terrestre” waiting for it to fill up so that we can leave for Quito. We have spent these past few days relaxing in this pleasant town.

Warm and cozy in front of the fireplace at Ali Shungu in Otavalo

Disappointingly, we continue to suffer from the effects of “El Nino,” as we have been unable to see the surrounding, snow-covered volcanoes due to the cloud cover.

The quality of goods sold here by the  Indian cooperatives is outstanding. You can buy the heavy white wool sweaters. so evident in Ireland, for around $6.00! Tim purchased several items as gifts for his Bolivian Friends and a Fedora hat to complete his traditional dance outfit. I bought several small paintings, some shawls and two sweaters.

Central Market, Otavalo, Equador

We arrived in Quito around mid-day and took  a room at  the San Sebastian Hotel. This is a first-class facility with all the amenities, so that we were able to enjoy a traditional American Thanksgiving afternoon, watching the Dallas Cowboys play football. This evening, after a feint-hearted attempt at finding a traditional turkey dinner, we went to Las Redes restaurant and had a magnificent shellfish feast.

Friday, November 28, 1997

I’m on my way to Miami and then home. Unfortunately, one leg of Tim’s scheduled return flight had been canceled, so he had to spend another day in Quito. This was quite upsetting to him, as tomorrow is the first day of a weekend fiesta in Tarata that he “could not miss.” He is part of a dance group and doesn’t want them to feel he puts traveling above participating with them. Additionally, he has invited friends down for the event.

I was sad to leave him and sadder still to see him so disappointed in not being able to meet his obligations. However, all in all, it was quite an adventure and a pleasure to spend two weeks with my son.

Ramblings of a Baseball Fan

With most sports, like football and basketball, you have to pay attention to the whole game, so as not to miss any of the action. Not so with baseball, at least for me. I find I can have the game on the radio or television and listen to it while I am doing other things. I just check in occasionally to get an update. And, a baseball game is a good place to go with friends to have a few beers and a good conversation. I do believe it is our “National Pastime.”

I identify with the sport’s history and its place in the American culture. It is not a “major” city for me if it does not have a Major League Baseball team. Not a day goes by during the baseball season that I don’t check the box score of my favorite team. I often wear a cap these days and it usually has the Rockies logo on it. I am wearing one right now.

I played little league for a couple of years while growing up and enjoyed it. At first I played shortstop and third base. Someone gave me a small booklet published by 7-Up about how to react to a ball hit to you, by position, in any situation; one out, two outs, no runners, runners on first and third, etc. I memorized the entire pamphlet. I believe I still remember how to play ‘em.

I tried out for the Montebello High School team, but was cut because I was not good enough. I must say however, that that team was very good. Our school had an enrollment of 3500 and won the California Interscholastic Federation-Southern Section High School Baseball Championship my senior year, having come in second place the year before.

Professional baseball came to California with the arrival of the Dodgers from Brooklyn, NY in 1958. So, I switched my baseball allegiance from the Milwaukee Braves (my first little league team was named the Braves) to our new home 9.

I can remember attending a game that first year with my second little league team, the Cadets, in the cavernous Los Angeles Coliseum. Our coach suggested I study the catchers, as that was the position I had moved to.

The Dodgers were an easy team to follow. They soon started playing winning baseball and had many good players. Maury Wills, Tommy Davis, Willie Davis, Wally Moon (and his moon shot home runs), Duke Snider, Johnny Padres, Gil Hodges, Don Drysdale and the incomparable Sandy Koufax were the stars. I remember listening to the games on the radio. I enjoyed it most when the Dodgers were at bat, but when Sandy pitched, I liked to keep track of how many strikeouts he was going to get that evening.

In 1961 the Los Angeles Angels were created. My father and brother followed them, but they never caught my interest.

In 1964 and 1965 I had the opportunity to work as an usher for both the Dodgers and Angels at Dodger Stadium. Here is the story of that experience.

In 1973 I moved to Portland,Oregon and, since nearby Seattle was between the Pilots of 1969 and the Mariners starting in 1977, I continued to follow the Dodgers.

1974-1976 I lived in Omaha, Nebraska and sort of followed the St Louis Cardinals. This was due to the fact that many of the business people I worked with were fans of theirs because, prior to the Dodgers moving to L.A. in 1958, the Cardinal’s were the farthest west of all professional teams. I have run into old-time Cardinal fans in such unsuspected places as Colorado, Montana and Idaho for the same reason.

1976-1979 I moved to Boston. VERY serious baseball town! Fenway Park is dirty, antiquated, small, hard-to-get to and reeks with ambience, in short, a wonderful place to see a ball game. And, the team management somehow arranges to have Red Sox history experts sprinkled liberally throughout the stadium, ever willing to share the sacred lore with anyone from out-of-town. The Red Sox are still my favorite American League team but, now that they have won the World Series a couple of times, many of their fans have become as obnoxious as the Yankee fans always were.

1979-1991 Back to the Northwest and the Seattle Mariners. They were bad most of the time I was there. Of one particularly ineffective pitcher we used to say, “no Nunez is good Nunez.” One advantage of the poor team and their low attendance, was that we could drive up to the Kingdome most rainy nights, park very close to the gate and smuggle in a couple of 6 packs of beer down the sleeves of our coats. The stadium was warm and dry and we would sit all alone in the outfield, openly drinking the beer and eating peanuts. No one would bother us, they were happy to have us there. After I left Seattle the Mariners got good for a while, but have since slipped back to the bottom of the pack.

1993-Present. Now in Denver and they get the Rockies. I am a Rockies fan, although they, like the Mariners before them, make it hard sometimes. With the exception of 2007, when they got to the World Series and a few other times when the team has crept up to respectability, being a Rockies fan has not been easy. Every time I get down on the team, I remember what a fellow fan and sufferer once said, “I am a fan, that means I support them good or bad.”

Me too, sort of.

We usually get down to 8-10 games a year where I enjoy the 7th inning stretch and never miss singing Take me out to the ball game.

I have been fortunate to have visited many major league stadiums across the country; The Seattle Kingdome, St Louis Busch Stadium, The Houston Astrodome, Old New York Yankee Stadium, the original Texas Ranger Stadium and some place, I forget where, the Anaheim Angels used to play, all of which no longer exist. I have also been to the new Seattle and Texas stadiums as well as Chicago’s Wrigley Field, Boston’s Fenway Park, Kansas City’s Kauffman Stadium and of course Dodger Stadium. Additionally, I have seen professional baseball games in Honolulu, Cancun, Mexico and Maracay,Venezuela.

For a number of years my son and I would drive from Boulder to Tucson in March for Spring Training with the Rockies. When Tim got married and got a life, I went out there with Cindy for a few more years, but she has limited time off work now, so it has been a number of years since we have gone. Additionally, now the Rockies are in Phoenix, it does not have the same appeal as did Tucson.

As I read what I have written above, I realize that baseball has always had a significant hold on my psyche, maybe more than I thought. Well I suppose that is OK because, win or lose, I am a baseball fan.

Visiting the Gorillas in Rwanda

My friend Monnie Biety shared the following wonderful story with me:

 

Monnie and Agashya

In May of this year, I spent 2 weeks working in Rwanda. Most of us are familiar with this small African country for 2 reasons, the genocide in 1994 and the mountain gorillas introduced to the world by Dian Fossey. I was lucky enough to visit the gorillas in Volcanoes National Park where Dian Fossey did her research. The park is about 2 ½ hours by car from the capital city of Kigali. It is in a very mountainous and lush area of the country surrounded by dormant volcanoes. The park sits on the border of Rwanda, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

In order to visit the gorillas you have to purchase a permit. I was able to purchase one at the last minute only because it was rainy season. At any other time of year, there is normally a 6 month to 1 year waiting list. In the park there are 20 groups of gorillas, 10 groups are exclusively for research and the other 10 groups receive visitors every day of the year. In total, there are less than 800 mountain gorillas in the world!

Eighty people are allowed to visit the gorillas each day. When you arrive at the park, the rangers divide the visitors up into groups of eight and each group is assigned 3 rangers and 2-3 trackers. You then set off hiking to find your assigned group of gorillas. This sounds like searching for a needle in a haystack but it was all very organized.  The trackers locate your assigned group of gorillas early in the morning and then the rangers guide you to their location.

I visited the Agashya group. Agashya is the silverback or mature male and the leader of the group. He weighed 450 pounds. In the mountain gorilla world, it is the silverback that holds the group together. There were also 20 adults and adolescents in the group and 6 babies. We found our group busily eating bamboo, their favorite food. We were surrounded by the gorillas; they were up in the bamboo, on the forest floor with us and just going about their daily life. They acknowledged us but we didn’t appear to bother them. The rangers told us that we could not get closer than 7 meters. But luckily, to enhance the experience, the gorillas weren’t aware of that rule. They approached us and moved freely about us. In fact, one ran right into my knee. After you locate your group of gorillas, you are allowed to spend 1 hour with them. It was the most amazing and memorable 1 hour in the bamboo forest, in the middle of Africa, spending time with 27 mountain gorillas roaming freely, gazing at me with soulful, gentle and intelligent eyes and nothing between me and them but bamboo!