Since this Southwest plane has wifi I might as well conclude this journal here, 30,000 feet above Arizona. I'll be back in Oakland in three hours. I spent the last week in the suburbs north of Philadelphia, visiting relatives and friends. Among other things I learned that my cousin, in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, lives amongst bears. Apparently bears have spread from the Appalachians to urban neighborhoods in Pa. I had no idea. So, possibly, after seven weeks in Africa I came closer to wild animals in Pennsylvania than in Botswana. Well, not really, since we nearly ran over that hyena in Chobe National Park, but at least there I had a guide to protect me.
Thanks for reading. Bye.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
August 11
Today I discovered the most satisfying urban place I've ever visited: The High Line, an above-ground park in Lower Manhattan situated on an old elevated railway line. It is beautiful. It made me think of what city spaces I've experienced in my life that stand out.
So I did what I always do, I made a list:
Best Urban Spaces
1. High Line, Lower West Side of Manhattan
2. Las Ramblas, Barcelona
3. Sutro Baths, San Francisco
4. Hong Kong Harbor (especially the ferries)
After strolling down the (long) length of the High Line I took in a depressing documentary about the deaths of young Black men in Chicago, made by one of the guys who shot "Hoop Dreams".
Then I sat in a park in Greenwich Village and read for a couple hours before I went up town to listen to some Mozart (and other composers) at Lincoln Center.
Now, as Pepys would say, to bed.
August 9 to 10
Don't know whether I can write anything interesting now that I'm back in the USA but I intend to keep trying until I get back to Oakland on August 20.
The trip to the airport on the new, modern Gau Line rail system (it links Pretoria to Johannesburg with a shunt to the airport) was fun and instructive. The line (which was finished only two weeks ago) is already a political football as the Left decries it as serving only the rich, generally White, patrons. I can confirm that 90% of the passengers on my trip were White suburbanites. It was a little eerie to see all those Black employees catering to the White riders.
The plane to NYC was uneventful. I tried to beat the jet lag blues by taking a sleeping pill eight hours before we arrived in North America but it didn't entirely work--or maybe I was just fatigued from the long (15 hour) flight. I was able to get to my New York home-away-from-home, the Gershwin Hotel on East 27th Street, but couldn't check in so early in the morning. So I headed off to The Strand bookstore and got a copy of Janet Malcolm's tome about Gertrude Stein. Odd that one of my favorite writers was interested in a subject that has fascinated me for over ten years: how did Gertrude and her lesbian lover, Alice Toklas, survive in Nazi-occupied France for nearly five years? Remember that both ladies were Jewish. I can't wait to see what Janet has learned.
It was hot in New York so I looked for an air-conditioned movie theater to wait out the time till hotel check in. The nearest theater had a review in its window of a movie about Ken Kesey. The type was too small to read, and I had no reviews to warn me off, so I too that one on.
The movie was someone's attempt to patch together all the miscellaneous film that Kesey and the Pranksters had produced during their bus trip that Tom Wolfe made so famous. I loved Wolfe's book and I'm sure that colored my view of the movie, which I found mildly interesting. There were, however, a couple of interesting moments.
They used a clip from the radio program "Fresh Air" to capture Kesey's view of the movie made from One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest. Predictably he disliked the transformation to the screen.What I liked was his reasoning: to Kesey the demonization of the nurse was misguided, that she was merely the handmaiden of "The Combine". I really should reread The Koolaid Acid Test, a great work of journalism.
Later in the movie that showed some film of Kesey and the Pranksters in New York at a party celebrating their arrival. What I didn't know--or had forgotten--was that Kerouac attended that party. There he was, quaffing a Budweiser, while all the young crazies cavorted around him. It was clear that he disdained the whole lot of them including Kesey, I'm sure. Another question that I wish I knew the answer to: how did the man of On The Road become a misanthropic drunk in his middle years (he never lived to be a misanthropic old man)? I remember that Bill Buckley's National Review magazine had a cover story/obit of Kerouac. The magazine cover showed Jack sprawled in an easy chair with a brew in his hand and several empties on the floor if I remember it correctly.
I should also add that the film featured some poignant remarks from the woman on the bus about Neal Cassidy/Moriarity. I didn't know that he, too, died a mysteriously pathetic death beside the railroad tracks in Mexico.
The trip to the airport on the new, modern Gau Line rail system (it links Pretoria to Johannesburg with a shunt to the airport) was fun and instructive. The line (which was finished only two weeks ago) is already a political football as the Left decries it as serving only the rich, generally White, patrons. I can confirm that 90% of the passengers on my trip were White suburbanites. It was a little eerie to see all those Black employees catering to the White riders.
The plane to NYC was uneventful. I tried to beat the jet lag blues by taking a sleeping pill eight hours before we arrived in North America but it didn't entirely work--or maybe I was just fatigued from the long (15 hour) flight. I was able to get to my New York home-away-from-home, the Gershwin Hotel on East 27th Street, but couldn't check in so early in the morning. So I headed off to The Strand bookstore and got a copy of Janet Malcolm's tome about Gertrude Stein. Odd that one of my favorite writers was interested in a subject that has fascinated me for over ten years: how did Gertrude and her lesbian lover, Alice Toklas, survive in Nazi-occupied France for nearly five years? Remember that both ladies were Jewish. I can't wait to see what Janet has learned.
It was hot in New York so I looked for an air-conditioned movie theater to wait out the time till hotel check in. The nearest theater had a review in its window of a movie about Ken Kesey. The type was too small to read, and I had no reviews to warn me off, so I too that one on.
The movie was someone's attempt to patch together all the miscellaneous film that Kesey and the Pranksters had produced during their bus trip that Tom Wolfe made so famous. I loved Wolfe's book and I'm sure that colored my view of the movie, which I found mildly interesting. There were, however, a couple of interesting moments.
They used a clip from the radio program "Fresh Air" to capture Kesey's view of the movie made from One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest. Predictably he disliked the transformation to the screen.What I liked was his reasoning: to Kesey the demonization of the nurse was misguided, that she was merely the handmaiden of "The Combine". I really should reread The Koolaid Acid Test, a great work of journalism.
Later in the movie that showed some film of Kesey and the Pranksters in New York at a party celebrating their arrival. What I didn't know--or had forgotten--was that Kerouac attended that party. There he was, quaffing a Budweiser, while all the young crazies cavorted around him. It was clear that he disdained the whole lot of them including Kesey, I'm sure. Another question that I wish I knew the answer to: how did the man of On The Road become a misanthropic drunk in his middle years (he never lived to be a misanthropic old man)? I remember that Bill Buckley's National Review magazine had a cover story/obit of Kerouac. The magazine cover showed Jack sprawled in an easy chair with a brew in his hand and several empties on the floor if I remember it correctly.
I should also add that the film featured some poignant remarks from the woman on the bus about Neal Cassidy/Moriarity. I didn't know that he, too, died a mysteriously pathetic death beside the railroad tracks in Mexico.
Monday, August 8, 2011
August 8
{It looks as if I failed to publish my July 27 post from The Great Zimbabwe. I fixed that tonight.}
A very dull day today walking, walking, walking around Pretoria and its suburbs. It's a very ordinary city, which, I think, is to its credit. I saw no abject poverty as in Harare or Johannesburg. I saw a few White folks walking, more than in JoBurg but fewer than Capetown. I saw lots of wealthy White homes in the hills surrounding the city, all with their electric fences and barbed wire, just like Capetown's matching burbs. I saw a few homeless people sleeping on the streets, about the same number as I'd observe in a similar jaunt in Oakland. I saw thousands of hip young professional-looking residents living in neat high rises. In fact Pretoria very much looks like the city that Jerry Brown envisioned when he became mayor of Oakland: dense conglomerations of apartments and condo's that support restaurants and theaters and a vivid city life.
Today was my last full day in Southern Africa. I haven't had time to reflect on the past 48 days but perhaps I should begin that process.
My favorite places:
1. Bulawayo, Zimbabwe....a small city in a wrecked country yet somehow this place seemed more welcoming than any place I've visited in recent years. There's something about these small cities (Savankhet, Laos; Malatya, Turkey; Chichicastenengo, Guatemala; Cienfuegos, Cuba) that makes them inviting to me.
2. Capetown, South Africa....a wealthy tourist town with great weather, what's not to like.
3. Solitaire, Namibia.....population 12, with one bakery serving the best apple strudel in the world, camel rides, in the middle of nowhere.
4. The Okavango Delta, Botswana.....canoeing amongst elephants and crocodiles was fun.
Tomorrow it is on to New York.
A very dull day today walking, walking, walking around Pretoria and its suburbs. It's a very ordinary city, which, I think, is to its credit. I saw no abject poverty as in Harare or Johannesburg. I saw a few White folks walking, more than in JoBurg but fewer than Capetown. I saw lots of wealthy White homes in the hills surrounding the city, all with their electric fences and barbed wire, just like Capetown's matching burbs. I saw a few homeless people sleeping on the streets, about the same number as I'd observe in a similar jaunt in Oakland. I saw thousands of hip young professional-looking residents living in neat high rises. In fact Pretoria very much looks like the city that Jerry Brown envisioned when he became mayor of Oakland: dense conglomerations of apartments and condo's that support restaurants and theaters and a vivid city life.
Today was my last full day in Southern Africa. I haven't had time to reflect on the past 48 days but perhaps I should begin that process.
My favorite places:
1. Bulawayo, Zimbabwe....a small city in a wrecked country yet somehow this place seemed more welcoming than any place I've visited in recent years. There's something about these small cities (Savankhet, Laos; Malatya, Turkey; Chichicastenengo, Guatemala; Cienfuegos, Cuba) that makes them inviting to me.
2. Capetown, South Africa....a wealthy tourist town with great weather, what's not to like.
3. Solitaire, Namibia.....population 12, with one bakery serving the best apple strudel in the world, camel rides, in the middle of nowhere.
4. The Okavango Delta, Botswana.....canoeing amongst elephants and crocodiles was fun.
Tomorrow it is on to New York.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
August 6
My posts have been dull of late largely because I've been doing so much moving about. I'm too tired to put down anything thoughtful. Today is no exception. I spent a good day, but a full day, moving from Gaborone to Pretoria in South Africa. I think I'm going to like this place but for now all I could manage was to get here and find a place to sleep. I started at 7:30 a.m. with a taxi trip to the Gaborone bus depot. I found the minivan to Pretoria but it took four hours for us to get 12 souls to fill the bus. Once that was taken care of things went smoothly. The border crossing into South Africa was easy and we managed the trip to Pretoria in six leisurely hours. There's a spirit of comradery on those little buses that you don't get anywhere else.
I walked for about a half hour in Pretoria seeking a hotel mentioned in Lonely Planet. I never found the exact place but did stumble upon a decent bed & breakfast for $42/night. I expect to stay here for the remaining two days of my African adventures. I have some things to say about Botswana but I'm too spent to do it now.
I walked for about a half hour in Pretoria seeking a hotel mentioned in Lonely Planet. I never found the exact place but did stumble upon a decent bed & breakfast for $42/night. I expect to stay here for the remaining two days of my African adventures. I have some things to say about Botswana but I'm too spent to do it now.
Friday, August 5, 2011
August 3 to 5
Lots of traveling done. I'm now in Gaborone, capital city of Botswana. Botswana is an anomaly in this part of the world, a British protectorate (by request of local chieftains) until the 1960's when it became independent. It therefore suffered fewer of the depredations of colonialism. According to what I was told the country languished economically until diamonds were discovered, which freed up money for infrastructure improvements and other public expenses.
Botswana is starkly different from Zimbabwe. It has a modern feel to it, much like Namibia. Shopping centers here resemble El Cerrito or Burbank. The hinterland, i.e. the Kalahari Desert, is still primitive,but the population centers are clearly members of the First World rather than the Third. There are many improvements that could be made--an expansion of the rail system, new agricultural crops, more industrialization, and a more democratic government (the President, from the dominant tribe, has been in office for 13 years, and dominates a flaccid Parliament).
I got here this afternoon after stopping for a day to visit some friends in the village of Mahalapye is 2.5 hours north of here. Mike and Geri, Peace Corps volunteers, live there. They come from Oakland, but serendipitously I met them in a hostel in Johannesburg in early July. They rent a small house and work for an NGO (non-governmental agency=western-funded charity) that is trying to reduce the soaring AIDS rate in Botswana. They were ultra generous to me, allowing me to stay a night in their home and feeding me throughout my one-day stay. The highlight of my time in Mahalapye was a visit that Geri arranged to a primary school. I sat in on three different classes, one on geography, one on AID's awareness, and one science class on parasites. I asked a bunch of questions and learned a good deal about how schools function in this land. I wish I'd been more assertive in trying to visit schools in other countries on this trip.
I got to Botswana via a convoluted series of bus rides from Bulawayo. I started at 6 a.m., before dawn, walking from my hotel to an omnibus station in midtown. I'd been told that I needed to get to the suburbs to a place called Nkunumura Shopping Center. I peered into one omnibus and asked about this route but he said it wasn't his. Luckily another van was on the same street going the opposite direction and he, indeed, was the one I wanted. I even got a front seat, unprecedented good fortune! After a ten or fifteen minute journey they dropped me at the 'shopping center', which turned out to be a few old ladies selling bananas and candy. There were several large buses filling up and I envisioned a soft-seated ride to the Botswana border, three hours south. But I quickly learned that the bus I wanted was a 15 passenger, beat up, hard-seated minivan. And I re-learned that finding the bus was half the battle. We sat for three hours waiting for a full passenger load. And full passenger load meant everyone squeezed in cheek to jowl. Now I envisioned a harrowing trip that would leave me incapacitated at the border from back pain. But ten minutes into the ride a family left the bus and we all shifted into a relative degree of comfort. But now my attention shifted to, "what do I do when I get to the border" since this van driver told me that was as far as he would go.
But not to worry. On the other side of the border waited an inexpensive, fairly large bus, ready to take us to Francistown, Botswana, the next big town down the road. That went well and, one hour later, I transferred at the Francistown bus depot, to another bus--this time a very large specimen--for the final ride to Mahalapye. Altogether a tiring day of rides but interesting nonetheless.
My last day in Zimbabwe was fun. I found a museum that had been recommended to me and discovered a pretty lively art culture in Bulawayo. I even talked with some artists who rented space in the museum to do their work. I really wanted to buy one piece by a local artist but I felt it was too fragile to make it home. He was bummed and so was I.
Tomorrow I hope to head back to South Africa. The lady at the bed & breakfast where I am presently located says I must book a ticket a day in advance. I hope that's not true. Today is Friday, I believe. On Tuesday I jet back to New York, assuming I make it to Oliver Tambo Airport in JoBurg on time.
Botswana is starkly different from Zimbabwe. It has a modern feel to it, much like Namibia. Shopping centers here resemble El Cerrito or Burbank. The hinterland, i.e. the Kalahari Desert, is still primitive,but the population centers are clearly members of the First World rather than the Third. There are many improvements that could be made--an expansion of the rail system, new agricultural crops, more industrialization, and a more democratic government (the President, from the dominant tribe, has been in office for 13 years, and dominates a flaccid Parliament).
I got here this afternoon after stopping for a day to visit some friends in the village of Mahalapye is 2.5 hours north of here. Mike and Geri, Peace Corps volunteers, live there. They come from Oakland, but serendipitously I met them in a hostel in Johannesburg in early July. They rent a small house and work for an NGO (non-governmental agency=western-funded charity) that is trying to reduce the soaring AIDS rate in Botswana. They were ultra generous to me, allowing me to stay a night in their home and feeding me throughout my one-day stay. The highlight of my time in Mahalapye was a visit that Geri arranged to a primary school. I sat in on three different classes, one on geography, one on AID's awareness, and one science class on parasites. I asked a bunch of questions and learned a good deal about how schools function in this land. I wish I'd been more assertive in trying to visit schools in other countries on this trip.
I got to Botswana via a convoluted series of bus rides from Bulawayo. I started at 6 a.m., before dawn, walking from my hotel to an omnibus station in midtown. I'd been told that I needed to get to the suburbs to a place called Nkunumura Shopping Center. I peered into one omnibus and asked about this route but he said it wasn't his. Luckily another van was on the same street going the opposite direction and he, indeed, was the one I wanted. I even got a front seat, unprecedented good fortune! After a ten or fifteen minute journey they dropped me at the 'shopping center', which turned out to be a few old ladies selling bananas and candy. There were several large buses filling up and I envisioned a soft-seated ride to the Botswana border, three hours south. But I quickly learned that the bus I wanted was a 15 passenger, beat up, hard-seated minivan. And I re-learned that finding the bus was half the battle. We sat for three hours waiting for a full passenger load. And full passenger load meant everyone squeezed in cheek to jowl. Now I envisioned a harrowing trip that would leave me incapacitated at the border from back pain. But ten minutes into the ride a family left the bus and we all shifted into a relative degree of comfort. But now my attention shifted to, "what do I do when I get to the border" since this van driver told me that was as far as he would go.
But not to worry. On the other side of the border waited an inexpensive, fairly large bus, ready to take us to Francistown, Botswana, the next big town down the road. That went well and, one hour later, I transferred at the Francistown bus depot, to another bus--this time a very large specimen--for the final ride to Mahalapye. Altogether a tiring day of rides but interesting nonetheless.
My last day in Zimbabwe was fun. I found a museum that had been recommended to me and discovered a pretty lively art culture in Bulawayo. I even talked with some artists who rented space in the museum to do their work. I really wanted to buy one piece by a local artist but I felt it was too fragile to make it home. He was bummed and so was I.
Tomorrow I hope to head back to South Africa. The lady at the bed & breakfast where I am presently located says I must book a ticket a day in advance. I hope that's not true. Today is Friday, I believe. On Tuesday I jet back to New York, assuming I make it to Oliver Tambo Airport in JoBurg on time.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
August 2
In Bulawayo again. It looks like it will be challenging to get to Botswana from here. Only a few mini-vans travel the route and they don't go unless they have a full load of passengers. We'll see what happens tomorrow a.m.
I feel like some kind of summary of Zimbabwe is warranted but my head is full of details now and I'm not sure what merits comment.
It is a very troubled country, for sure. A leading general announced this week that he would not tolerate the opposition (MDC. led by Tsangvarai) taking power even if there were fair elections. And fair elections are doubtful given that Mugabe's party controls the voter rolls. Right now there is a very tenuous truce between the two parties with Mugabe as President and Tsangvarai as Prime Minister. But Mugabe is growing impatient. He sent thugs into the Parliament building last week to beat up an MDC legislator and some reporters.
Harare is a typical big city with lots of glass and steel skyscrapers dating from colonial times. There is little prosperity evident anywhere in the country as evidenced by the gradual erosion of infrastructure. There are trains but they don't run much, much less 'on time'. The sidewalks are crumbling, air and water pollution is rampant, and people are discouraged. A movement to separate the southern part of the nation (including Bulawayo) has just been created.
More then anything you notice the lack of variety in daily life. The entire city of Harare consists of clothing stores, places selling cellphones, restaurants all serving the same food, banks (Mugabe's part wants them to sell 52% of their assets to locals--meaning Mugabe cronies), and, strangely, copy places. There is plenty of education--colleges abound--but no jobs for the graduates. There is no public transit (which I, as a libertarian, applaud).
Bulawayo is a more habitable place than the capital. It suffers from the same lack of variety but seems to have a spirit about it that the bigger city lacks. I spoke with an artist at the big gallery in town and he epitomized the nation; he can make art but no one will buy it since no one has disposable income. The national politics depresses him, as it does just about everyone I've spoken to. It will be interesting to see if Mugabe (who is 87) decides to go out in a blaze of glory by finally wrecking all the remaining democratic institutions before he dies. There are rumors in the Harare press that Tsvangarai and another MDC leader are about to be arrested for 'corruption'. If that happens, and the banks are taken over, Zimbabwe may overtake Haiti as the worlds' leading failed state.
I feel like some kind of summary of Zimbabwe is warranted but my head is full of details now and I'm not sure what merits comment.
It is a very troubled country, for sure. A leading general announced this week that he would not tolerate the opposition (MDC. led by Tsangvarai) taking power even if there were fair elections. And fair elections are doubtful given that Mugabe's party controls the voter rolls. Right now there is a very tenuous truce between the two parties with Mugabe as President and Tsangvarai as Prime Minister. But Mugabe is growing impatient. He sent thugs into the Parliament building last week to beat up an MDC legislator and some reporters.
Harare is a typical big city with lots of glass and steel skyscrapers dating from colonial times. There is little prosperity evident anywhere in the country as evidenced by the gradual erosion of infrastructure. There are trains but they don't run much, much less 'on time'. The sidewalks are crumbling, air and water pollution is rampant, and people are discouraged. A movement to separate the southern part of the nation (including Bulawayo) has just been created.
More then anything you notice the lack of variety in daily life. The entire city of Harare consists of clothing stores, places selling cellphones, restaurants all serving the same food, banks (Mugabe's part wants them to sell 52% of their assets to locals--meaning Mugabe cronies), and, strangely, copy places. There is plenty of education--colleges abound--but no jobs for the graduates. There is no public transit (which I, as a libertarian, applaud).
Bulawayo is a more habitable place than the capital. It suffers from the same lack of variety but seems to have a spirit about it that the bigger city lacks. I spoke with an artist at the big gallery in town and he epitomized the nation; he can make art but no one will buy it since no one has disposable income. The national politics depresses him, as it does just about everyone I've spoken to. It will be interesting to see if Mugabe (who is 87) decides to go out in a blaze of glory by finally wrecking all the remaining democratic institutions before he dies. There are rumors in the Harare press that Tsvangarai and another MDC leader are about to be arrested for 'corruption'. If that happens, and the banks are taken over, Zimbabwe may overtake Haiti as the worlds' leading failed state.
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