A South African Adventure

Twice in one year – Africa!  It’s winter here in South Africa, but hardly reminds us of winters in Colorado.  There are palm trees, tropical flowers showing off their colors and temperatures around 60 degrees.  In fact, one might think of San Diego.

As I sit in an upscale Cape Town hotel, I look out my window to see blue sky and sunshine.  But, it was only 12 hours ago that it was raining horizontally.  Today’s headline in “Cape Times” reads:  “City flooded as rivers spill over.”  Over 1,000 people in the “informal areas” – the poor Capetonians living in shacks – spent a cold and soggy night.  Unlike San Diego, this area seems pretty violital -  one minute sunshine, the next torrents of rain.

Extremes are not only in the weather – the gap between the rich and the poor is huge.  In Cape Town, I can feel it: safe inside the hotel – not safe within a block.  This is not an exageration.  Even where we are located at the “Waterfront”, the safest tourist spot.

As the city prepares themselves for world attention in the 2010 soccer games, Cape Town is trying to reshape its reputation as not being crime-ridden.  “As with any big city, one must be aware…” is what they say at the hotel.   The second breath is to offer you a taxi (I see 11 outside my window waiting), or take their shuttle ($5 each way).

Let’s see… two days ago I spoke with a burly fellow from Sydney who was visiting the “Waterfront” and suddenly had a shoulder pressing on his with the hot words whispering in his ear, “I have a knife.  Give me your money.”   Keeping his cool, the Sydney fellow said, “If you want your money follow me.” As  he proceeded to a more public area – the front of a small hotel – he turned and threw him R10.  The robber just looked at him with total confusion and anger in his eyes. ( R10 is about a buck!)  The Aussie just arrived and was still sorting out the exchange rate in his head!  So, he threw down a R100 bill (around $12) and said, “Go with God!” even though he has never uttered these words in his life! And, he left! 

Not to bust their bubble of having fun and friendly folks, but the story over working out on the treadmill this morning was about a gun-wielding man also at the Waterfront last night…

Ah… one year to go.  I think I’ll be home in sunny and safe Boulder.

Read more on our great trip on the “Garden Route”, Prince Albert, the wine capital of South Africa – Stellenbosch and a place called, “Boulders”, where Leonina frolics with the African Penguin!

(Pictures coming…)

Red Shoes with a Soul

Charles' Mother

Crocs with soul.

As I packed for our African safari, I decided in the last minute to throw in my red Maryjane Crocs.   I remember reading that we will be standing in our socks on the seats of the jeep to view the animals and that slip-on shoes would be ideal for quick maneuvering!

Shoes became a topic of conversation from the first day of our trip.  Everyone walked everywhere all day.  Where were they going?   People were walking with baskets, water jugs, even tables and grills on their heads.   They were walking selling their wares or herding their goats.  They pushed carts and pulled carts.  Some wore strapped sandals, some canvas tennis shoes, many went bare-footed.

Along the road and in the fields,  we saw the bright plaid robes of the Maasai tribe in the distance.  Their shoes were made of motorcycle tires!  You would pick the tire you liked (new or used) and they would cut it to your size and put straps on it while you waited!  These must serve them well since they walk about 20 miles a day on these tires!  (Michelin – take notice!)

Then we went to the Bashu Primary School in Arusha, grades one through seven – 767 children in all!  We visited the upper classrooms where they were studying English.  We sang songs to each other and created small groups for Q & A.  Despite gaping holes in their uniforms, most of them smiled from ear-to-ear.  Joice wants to be a doctor, Adelina a teacher.  They were incredibly positive and seemed determined.

Then we learned that there is no money for lunches so the children must walk home for lunch.  This means two round-trips every day to school for six days.  It is  not unusual for them to walk five miles a day.  If the distance is too far to go home for lunch – they just don’t eat.

This is when I thought of Crocs for these students.  They don’t wear down, they are comfortable, bacteria-free and great for the monsoons.  And, if we can figure out how to get more money for lunches, desks, pens and yes, new sweaters…

On the last day of our trip, we visited Charles Laurent.  Charles was only eight years old when we began to sponsor him though Compassionate International.  He is now 18 years old!  We regularly receive letters and knew that he just passed a major exam, and  was also selected to play on a soccer team in Dar es Salaam (Tanzania’s political capital).  Charles wants to be a civil engineer – a great choice.  He and his mother live in one-room (the size of a bedroom) -  corrugated steel roof, mud walls, no kitchen, and no bathroom.  Very clean and very sparse.

When we arrived with the translator to their home, Charles beamed and his mother sat and started weeping.  Our support seems so small, yet means so much.  Then, I noticed that the mother did not have shoes!  She wore a beautiful dress, a necklace, her hair pulled up and pinned,  but no shoes.

By now, shoes were such the conversation that our guides told us that people desperately needed shoes and pens!  I thought of my red Crocs.  I washed them beforehand and tucked them in my back-pack just in case they fit Charles’ mother.  Sure enough, when I pulled them out and she tried them on, I felt like I was the prince in Cinderella! They fit perfectly!

Thank you Crocs for your wonderful shoes – they were made for walking!

Shoes:  Photo album

Cultural activities in Arusha

This is by far the longest journey I have been on since I started traveling with Da Vinci Capers - 34 hours door-to-door.  Feathers ruffled, but at least I don’t need the visa, shots or malaria pills.  Tanzania, Africa, is our destination to experience the culture and to go on an animal  safari – a trip to celebrate Mike’s 60th birthday.

We arrive in the evening.  Traveling from the airport to the hotel, it is very dark and  I have no sense of direction.   People are walking everywhere along side the road.   It’s a Saturday night.  Where is  everyone going?  Many people are balancing things on their heads.  Oh, my… someone is actually carrying their lit charcoal grill on their head!  “Self-confidence,”  that’s what I say.

Behind high stucco walls, we enter a gated hotel and grounds.  It is not luxurious, but the beds are comfortable and the mosquito nets are charming until I recall the reason they exist!  I place medical tape over holes bigger than a pencil point and place  a towel over the faucet as a reminder not to drink the water – we are not in Italy!   This is our first evening before we embark on our Tanzanian Adventure!

The next morning we head for a coffee plantation combination cheese-maker located north of Arusha on the slopes of Mount Meru.    First, our hosts dress us in traditional garb and sing a welcome song.   We pound coffee beans, taste cheese and sip coffee.  Since they must see groups of  tourists regularly, they were delighted to see moi – a chicken!  In fact, the owner,  Ismail Pallangyo, asked to take our picture together and send him a signed copy.  I suddenly feel like a movie star!

My  star status quickly deflates to ” Lucy works the wheel!”  We drive a short distance to the Tremi Pottery Factory.  (Factory may be too large of a word -  Studio is more accurate.)   Having created European architectural elements in the 90’s, I actually know a lot about design,  materials,  firing and finishing of clay sculpture.  Once you have your eye lashes seared off from peering into a kiln, you are initiated into this club!

So I, chicken-artista, had a special appreciation for what the owner,  Ndekirawa,  was doing.  He asked for a volunteer to “try the wheel”,  a true hands-on experience.  Being an aficionado of Da Vinci Capers, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity!  It is here that I must confess  -  I always did hand-building and never worked on the potter’s  wheel!  But, I climbed up his jerry-rigged wheel (a bike seat with a wood cut-out disc to push with one foot).   My legs are too short -  my foot could barely touch the wood base; and the clay was so hard, my hand could not puncture the center to start a shape.  Ndekirawa came to my rescue…  But,  it looked so easy!

We finished the day with a trip to the tanzanite center in downtown Arusha to learn about this brilliant blue gem only found in Tanzania.  Tanzanite is a  precious gem with three colors depending how you hold it to the light:  deep blue, purple and red.  It’s Mike’s birthday, but he bought me a beautiful “cushion-shaped” gem  in perfect form.  I love birthdays!

Tanzania Trip – March 2009

Coffee Plantation & Pottery Experience Photo Album

A Portmanteau

On the other side of the world there is a country called Tanzania.  Actually, it was called Tanganyika.   Then, in 1964, the island just off her coast in the Indian Ocean called, Zanzibar, was added.  They combined the two names and came up with Tanzania! (I would have named it, Tangabar, but then it would sound like a candy bar with a little ‘zip’!) This blending of two words is called a “portmanteau.”   I must have learned this word sometime in my life, perhaps while reading Lewis Carroll’s book Through the Looking Glass, but forgot it. This is a great word.  Look it up!  It’s a  French compound word meaning  “coat hanger!”

But, I digress…   Ah… Tanzania.  My “zia” would be proud – my aunt in Rome.  She loved to travel (particularly to the Italian coast looking for live music to dance to); but,  she also loved to  travel around the world with Pavarotti, stitching costumes as they fell apart.  She was a “ziabee” – aunts who fly?

Where was I?  In Africa – home of lions, zebras and giraffes, oh my! And one chicken named Leona. When anyone asks, “Where’s Leona?!”, it is hard to tell since she is one  “chick-a-bee” (chickens who fly).  There is Leona, the original,  the one-and-only.  Then, there is also little Leona, called Leonina.    Lately, everyone asks for Leonina to take with them on an adventure.  She is younger and much more fit.  She is the adventurer -  only weighs 2 ounces (including her yellow, ripstop sleeping bag).  She folds up neatly into a 2″ x 4″ package so that she can climb the top of Mt. Everest or any other hard-to-reach place in the world (she’ll be heading for the North Pole soon!).  And, not only is she light as a feather, but she is beautiful.  Carefully crafted by one of America’s finest puppet-makers, she is hand-painted with a leather-like beak and comb.  Really… a fashionista!

I believe this is the reason that Leona, the nonna of all Italian chickens, sits on my bookcase each day looking down on me with great expectations that her day will come once again.  The story goes… Leonina was in Boston (actually, she traveled down to Rhode Island for the weekend) and she got stuck in a snow storm.  As I packed the night before leaving for Africa, I pulled Leona off the shelf and carefully layed her on the very top of my duffle bag.  She fit perfectly!  I understood.  Older, not as agile, not as beautiful, but still  game for fun and new adventures…

The decision was made.  Chick-a-bee on  the Tangabar Express!

Clucking for Clafoutis

The sun just rose casting a warm glow on the window pane of Patisserie Mulot’s pastry shop.  I see the reflection of people moving in both directions – probably heading for work.  I can hear the clicking of high heels on the pavement and an occasional, Bonjour! What laid before me looked like a table set for a king.  Already, there were shelves of tarts topped with slivers of almonds, cakes flowing with pastry cream topped with berries and perky puffy meringues…  Then, I saw it.  A large rectangle of creamy clafouti with little jewel-like cherries poking through -  not too sweet, a cake-custard with tart cherries!

I position myself in the line that was already forming.  My French is rusty, but managed to say, Je voudrais celle-ci. It worked!  They carefully place it on a piece of paper, folded and tied with a ribbon.  Off I go to my little apartment on the Seine to enjoy my morning treat.

I remember having a similar  clafouti in Tuscany.  It did not have a crust and was not as rich.  Thanks to Beverly and Chef Valter (Da Vinci Capers’ Chef) for the recipe below:

Cherry Clafouti (Serves 6)

Halfway between custard and cake, this traditional dessert will bring the French countryside to your table with its subtle richness.  Sour cherries peep out of the easy, eggy batter.  We have removed the pits, but if you want to do things the French way (more flavor and to save time), leave them in place and simply serve the clafouti with a warning.

1 1/4 pounds fresh sour cherries, pitted, or 1 pound frozen sour cherries – thawed and drained

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar

4 large eggs

1 cup whole milk

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled

2 tablespoons kirsch

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon almond extract

Garnish:  confectioners’ sugar

Put a rack in middle of oven and preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  Butter a shallow 2 1/2 quart baking dish.  Toss cherries with 1 tablespoon sugar and spread evenly in baking dish.

Combine eggs, milk, flour, salt, butter, dirsch, extracts, and remaining 1/2 cup sugar in blender and blend until smooth.  Pour batter over cherries.

Bake clafouti until puffed and golden, about 30 minutes.

Cool slightly on a rack (clafouti will sink as it cools) and serve warm, dusted with confectioners’ sugar.

(Can also be made with brandied plums:  simmer 1 1/2 pounds of pitted plums, cubed, with 4 tablespoons sugar and 2 tablespoons brandy until juices are bubbly and thick – about 5 minutes.  Continue with recipe above. Yum!)

Enjoy! Think of Leonina being inspired by her visit to Gerard Mulot’s pastry shop! (Thank you Dorie Greenspan for the wonderful narrative in your marvelous book, “Paris Sweets – Great Desserts from the City’s Best Pastry Shops.”)

Ooh-la-la

Tomorrow, Leona is off again to the City of Love and one of my favorite places in the world – Paris.  Jane, a friend and lover of life, first met Leona last fall on a Da Vinci Capers‘ trip in Ravello on the Amalfi Coast.  Leona, who is the chicken extraordinaire and who epitomizes Leonardo da Vinci’s lessons of life, will bunk with Jane for three weeks in a small flat just off the River Seine.

Mike and I stayed in this same apartment for a few months while he worked with a French scientific laboratory and I took cooking lessons and pretended that I was French.  I went to the market each day, bought the newspaper, got my hair cut – all with just two years of French!  You could hear the bells toll and the chatter on the street.  The key to the apartment looked like it belong to the Hunchback – so big, so heavy.  When I threw it out the window so Mike could let himself in, we risked him getting knocked out!  Ahhh, Paris…

Now, Leona and Jane will create new experiences and live the French life.  Return for updates and photos of their adventures!   Bon Voyage….

Lemon Ice Cream – a summer hit!

Thanks to our local newspaper and the old recipe from Gourmet Magazine, Lemon Ice Cream has been our favorite summer dessert!  We’ve served it with a rich dark chocolate sauce, on top of cherry pie, cherry clafouti (a cross between a cake and bread pudding), and last night a new version of strawberry shortcake.

Freshly churned, it’s light, tangy and full of flavor.  (Can be doubled easily.)

1 tablespoon freshly grated lemon zest

1/2 cup fresh lemon juice

1 scant cup sugar

3 large eggs

2 cups half-and-half

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

In a saucepan whisk together the zest, lemon juice, sugar, eggs, and only 1 cup of the half-and-half and the vanilla.  Cook over medium-high  heat, stirring constantly, until it just comes to a simmer.  Strain the custard through a fine sieve into a bowl, pressing hard on the zest.  Cover with plastic wrap and chill.  When ready to churn, add the remaining half-and-half into the custard and pour into the ice cream freezer.  (follow manufacturer’s instructions on freezing)  Makes one quart.  Enjoy!

The Ups & Downs

No, not emotionally; but physically! From now until we attempt to summit on May 25th, our team will be moving from Base Camp to Camp I, to Camp II, to Camp III, back to Base Camp, then to a village below Base Camp, back to Base Camp to Camp II, to Camp III, to Camp IV – then, finally – Summit to 29,035 feet!

This means for the next 2 weeks, we move up and down in the name of heavy oxygen and “fixing lines” above Camp II. This “Camp Dance” depends upon the Chinese reaching the summit with the Olympic torch on the north side (maybe happening as I speak) and of course on Mother Nature – the weather.

Military guards have been hanging out at base camp for some time now. The reason is to keep anyone from moving up the south side of Mt. Everest before the torch reaches the top from the north approach. The command to “shoot to kill” seems pretty extreme with a bunch of people who are just wanting to climb.

The weather is a big topic every day. For example, today we will climb once again in the Khumbu Ice Fall. Kent told me that it’s necessary to start this climb early, around 4:00 am before the ice heats up creating shifts making crossing ladders more precarious. This is easy for me since I’m an “early bird”, but for many climbers it’s not easy especially if it falls next to a night of bad sleeping.

Jim, a team member who is keeping a fantastic blog, tells it like this:
Climbing through the Icefall is a little weird. It is as hard going down as it is up, there are significant obstacles (crevasse crossing, vertical wall to rappel down, a ledge to traverse, etc.) to clear nearly every fifty feet (no exaggeration), it is amazing beautiful, but also deadly. Whereas the nights have been cold, the days have been unseasonably warm. Warm = more ice movement = greater risk. So, you basically race through the Icefall as fast as you can, to the point where I want to take tons of pictures but instead keep moving to reduce the time spent in this beautiful but dangerous land. The reward for a safe descent is the comfort of base camp… we had intended to breathe the thicker air here for several days before climbing up again.

Jim’s blog has been fun for armchair travelers (www.mounteverest2008.com) – see April 5th about Kent and his previous attempt and check out all the videos (also one of Kent grinding buckwheat!).  (Note:  Thanks to Ken Maudsley and the Communications Team of “Mount Everest 2008″ for all photos!)

Mt. Everest Teammates

Besides Kent Groninger from Colorado, a long-time friend and my personal carrier, there are nine other team members from each coast and in between. Jim Curtin from Georgia (and soon-to-be, Colorado) is the most well-known since he has been posting on his blog great descriptions and pictures. We have received so many well wishes and prayers that surely we’ll all make it to the top! Bravo, Jim! (To sense what it’s like to climb Mt. Everest, see Jim’s blog, his latest entry is on the petit boulangerie at Base Camp and NASA! www.mounteverest2008.com)

On that same coast, there is J. Armand Musey and John Soebbing, both from New York. Moving west, Gregory Konrath of Indiana, and R.C. Scull from South Dakota. Jeffrey Dossett and Charlie Hyde are both from Washington state. Heading southward, Mark Luscher from Oregon and Diannette Wells (another gal with lots of spunk) from California, and myself, of course, Leona from Ancona (Photo below: Colorado via Italy). That makes 10 official climbers and one stow-a-way.

None of us would be sitting at base camp right now zipping hot lemonade and eating apple pie if it weren’t for Alpine Ascents International out of Seattle, Washington. Kent chose Alpine Ascents for the second time to climb Mt. Everest, “They’re worth every penny!” (www.alpineascents.com) Jose Louis Peralvo is our il capo, and one of Alpine Ascents’ most well-loved guides. So, we’re in good hands… I just don’t want to get left behind since my stuff sack is the identical color and material of the tents!

More to come…

Tortellini with Guinea Pig Sauce

Today, we celebrated cutting two hours in our climb from Camp I to Camp II at over 20,000 ft. with a hefty dish of vegetables and tortellini smothered with guinea pig sauce! At least it wasn’t chicken stew! My protector, Kent Groninger, has me safely tucked away in a 4″ yellow stuff sack in his coat pocket. We are climbing Mt. Everest together. He carries me and in return, I give him a few grins and imbue the energy of many who are vicariously climbing with him. If we summit, Kent will be the oldest American at age 66 (and moi will be the first chicken)! I’m already drafting the blurb for the Guinness Book of World Records!

Mt. Everest is the top of the world at 29,035 feet high and is known in Nepal as Sagarmatha, “goddess of the sky.” For everyone who is interested in the history and statistics, please click on the link. But being the mascot of Da Vinci Capers ~ A Personal Renaissance Journey, my enthusiasm is in Kent, his team members and the experience of our journey.

Kent has been climbing mountains since he was a young boy living in the White Mountains in New Hampshire. When he moved to Colorado in the 70’s, he joined the Colorado Mountain Club. He will tell you all about this in the video that we’ll soon be uploading onto the blog. For now, let’s just say that over the last three decades, Kent’s climbing resume includes over 100 peaks in the U.S. and he has been on nine international expeditions – most peaks over 20,000 feet and an attempt to summit Mt. Everest in 2005 (he actually made it to Camp III when they were turned back due to bad weather).

On that expedition he had his lovely wife, Cathleen, with him – now, it’s just me – “Chicken Lite” (Kent’s nickname for me). But, I must confess, Kent was in awe when he first laid eyes on me: hand-painted wings with a red leather comb, folded neatly into the size of a half an envelope and weighing no more than 2 ounces! Loosing weight was difficult at best considering that I was fat and happy just a month ago in the Antarctica! (This chick does get around!) Kent’s only concern was that on the summit, the winds may fly me into Tibet and he would not be able to rescue me. I told him that this would be just fine – I would become a monk and meditate the remaining years of my life.

Windy nights in the tents and a flu bug to boot. More to come…