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Entries in Travel (5)

Sunday
Nov152009

Travel/Bucket List - The Grand Canyon

 

This post is in the Travel category, but also tagged for Bucket List.

The Bucket List is a list of things I want to do/feel I should do before I die.  I've done some of them already, and I'm telling one of those stories here.  To see the whole list, click here.

 

Ah, the Grand Canyon.  One of the most amazing sights in the world and something everyone should see, in person, at least once in their lives.

I'd really like to go back there as an adult, and here's why...

I was 11 and my parents took me along on their grand tour of the US.  40 cities in 30 days - or, at least, that's what it felt like.

We were in Vegas, and we went to some small airport to take a flight over the Grand Canyon.  I had never been to a small airport before and I thought it was a bit weird.  I felt unsettled, and it didn't get any better when we got onto the plane.

It was a small plane.  

I started getting nervous.

They arranged us in the cabin to distribute the weight so, being the only child on the trip, I was alone at the back of the plane.  

The next thing that I remember about is that we were on the plane, flying over the Canyon, and it was raining.  My mother was a few row in front of me, and my father in the front row, so there was no comfort or reassurance. 

Status raised from nervous to scared. 

The plane was going up and down as we flew through air pressure changes.  Then the woman in front of me started to throw up.  It smelled and sounded awful.

Status raised from scared to terrified. 

I remember at one point my father looked back and gestured to me that I should look out of the window at the view.  I tried, but I was really too busy embracing my Catholic upbringing by that point and praying vociferously.  

I did look out of the little porthole window eventually, and I saw clouds, a rock thing sticking up and mist.  Even at 11 years old I knew that I could go home and look up pictures of the Grand Canyon in a book somewhere (the internet wasn't an option in South Africa back then - we actually went to the library) so I chose to just close my eyes and reassure myself with a self-made countdown to the whole thing being over.

"It must only be twenty minutes till we land.  I can handle twenty minutes."

"I'm sure we'll be on the ground in fifteen minutes.  That's a tiny amount of time.  Fifteen minutes..."

And so, although I have officially seen the Grand Canyon, and I've ticked it off on my Bucket List, I need to go again.

Preferably on a nice, sunny day.

Saturday
Sep262009

Travel/Bucket List - Disneyland/world

 

This post is in the Travel category, but also tagged for Bucket List.

The Bucket List is a list of things I want to do/feel I should do before I die.  I've done some of them already, and I'm telling one of those stories here.  To see the whole list, click here.

 

 

When I was 11, my father told me that he wanted to go and see his sister in Australia.  Not appreciating the bonds of family, or perhaps not understanding that I might find a way to hold a Koala Bear in my arms, I said, in that lovely, sweet, polite and completely unspoilt way that upper middle class children have:

"I want to go to Disneyland!"

In retrospect, not my proudest moment.

Being Daddy's little girl, my dear aunt was spared three weeks of dealing with annoying family visitors, and off to the US of A we flew!

We went to a lot of places - my dad got a special ticket where you can fly as much as you want within the US, as long as you didn't go back to the same city.  But my favorite places were Disneyland and Disneyworld.

Because we visited both (I did say I was spoiled, didn't I?), my memories of the two are jumbled up.  It's all merged into one sense of childhood wonder and awe.

This is in stark contrast to going back to Disneyland as an adult.  Just as much fun, but in a different way.

So here's what I remember:

 

Entering the park

When we went in 1981, I thought parking lot was HUGE.  I remember thinking we were never going to get anywhere near the park, and I was so impatient to get in!  Then we had to get on some boat thing to cross the seven seas to get to the gates.  The guide told us that the lake actually had waters from each of the seven seas in it.  I'd learnt about the water cycle at school, so I was wondering if they kept going to the seven seas to get more water, but I didn't dare ask.  

 

 

In 2001, we did our research beforehand and stayed the night in the Disney hotel so that we could get through the gates an hour before they were open to the general public.  We were probably in the first 10 people in the park that day.  As we walked up Main Street, I saw Mickey Mouse standing at the end of it.

When I did my MBA, we studied Disneyland as an example of managing staff.  They train their staff to be "actors", instructing them to be "on stage" as soon as they exit from the rabbit warren of tunnels under the park and come out to interact with the public.  

So I began to wonder... how committed are you to your performance, Mickey?  

Indulge me a moment while I set the scene.  By this stage I had speed-walked to the front of the people coming into the park.   I was also bigger than I am now - perhaps a dress size 20.  

I opened my arms.  I broke into a run.  I barrelled straight at the poor little fake mouse, yelling:

"MICKEY!"

I think, from the massive, prolonged bear hug that I gave poor Mickey, that he was being played by a slim teenage girl that day, who probably thought that she was being kind to a mentally challenged adult - which isn't bad thing, frankly.

I put my arm around her, my embarrassed husband caught up with us, and took a picture.  

 

The Tiki Room

I have a very vague memory of the Tiki room as a child.  I remember being bemused.

As an adult, many years later, it was a hilarious experience.  

 

 

The guy standing outside was basically getting tired people, who had been walking around the park all day, to come inside by explaining to them that there was air-conditioning and a place to sit. 

The Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room, the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki room (you have to know the song), a bunch of rattynimatronic birds and totem poles sing you the silly song.  I think that you have to be high to really appreciate it, but we don't do that stuff so we just had to let our healthy sense of irony keep us laughing our asses off.  There were definitely some people in there who had gone for the "full Tiki experience" - we could smell them.

 

The Matahorn roller coaster

When I was a kid, I had dragged my poor parents round the park relentlessly, until they were exhausted.  My father and mother sat down and told me they would stay where they were, and that I should go on the rides and come back and find them.

FREEDOM!

I was so happy I could've burst.

I got in line for the Matahorn, and was so proud when I realized I was taller than the minimum height required.

The line people were a bit confused when I got in by myself, with no adult to sit next to me, but I was unfazed.  Till the ride started.  I thought I was going to die.  

No.  Listen.

I am not kidding.

I thought I was going to die.

 I screamed so hard that, when I got off the ride, I had lost my voice.

Lost.  My.  Voice.

Going back there as an adult was as mistake.  The ride seemed smaller, and was more nostalgic than thrilling.

Which isn't to say there aren't good roller coasters at Disneyland.  We were there with a friend of ours - let's call him Martin - who decided to check out Disney's California Adventure, the park next door.  We had arranged to meet him at the Light Parade as dusk fell.

The parade came and went.  No Martin.

Hmmmmm.

And then we saw him.  He was very, very pale.  He had never been on a roller coaster in his life, and he chose, for his first one, a mammoth called California Screaming.  

This steel coaster (built to look wooden) offers up a 0-55 launch in four seconds, a 107-foot drop and a vertical loop around a Mickey Mouse logo. You'll also hear "surf guitar" music through an on-board soundtrack, a la "Space Mountain."

This is the 6th longest coaster in the world, and 2nd longest steel coaster in the U.S. this coaster currently has a maximum of 5 cars running at one time.

Source: www.themeparkinsider.com

Martin was feeling very weak, and quite ill.  

As they do with a lot of these rides, there is an automatic camera that takes a picture at a key moment on the ride.  Martin said that, when he went to the viewing area, other people were pointing at the photo of him and laughing, saying:

"Hey!  Look at that guy!"

I just watched a video of what going on the ride is like, with headphones on and Fluffy Bear grabbed my knee unexpectedly.  Apparently I was screaming.

Yeah, that goes on the "Avoid" list.

Still, Disneyland is a magical place and they are always adding new rides so, as I've just said to Fluffy Bear, we have to go again! 

Wednesday
Sep232009

Travel - Brazil

 
 
A good friend of mine is in Rio at the moment, and that got me thinking about my trip to Brazil.
 
I was only 11 years old, so these are recollections through a child's eyes.
 
 
The touristy stuff
 
Of course there are the beaches - more of which later.  We went to the Corcovado (the large statue of Jesus) and the Sugarloaf mountain, but those aren't the things that I think about when I remember Rio.
 
 
The things I remember
 
A previous employee of my father's picked us up at the airport and took us to our hotel.  We were right on the beach - Ipanema I think - and the hotel looked very grand.  Our hosts seemed impressed and, when we got to our floor, they turned left, towards swanky doors and gold embossed numbers.  
 
No, no, our porter told them, this way, and he turned to the right.
 
It seems that these were the cheaper rooms, and we had bunk beds and one of those beaded curtains in our room.
 
Maybe the travel agent in South Africa had no idea there was a line dividing nice and crap rooms running down the hotel's elevator shaft... who knows?  I just have one of those pre-teen memories of acute embarrassment at our hosts seeing us in a crappy room.  Why the hell didn't they wait for us in the lobby?
 
I remember the hotel concierge explaining to my father that there is a lot of crime in Rio and that he should take a little money out with him and leave everything else in their secure lock boxes behind reception.  He also told us to avoid the beach because of thieves.  
 
Maybe he was doing us a favor - I have no doubt at all that we had "Know-nothing tourist" tattooed across our foreheads - but I was a little pissed at him.  What little I knew of Rio back then included pictures of beautiful beaches, and I sure as hell wanted to walk along one.  
 
Whenever I go to a place near the ocean, I feel like I must at least paddle in the shallows.  I don't know why, it's just a thing with me.  I even braved a floating condom to do it in Santa Monica.  Rio is probably the only place in the world where I haven't done that.
 
But we did walk along the famous black and white beach sidewalks.  I don't have access to my parent's photos from that trip, so you'll just have to do make do with some from the net:
 

 
The other thing I remember about Rio is how big, and how full, the church was.  We went to Sunday mass and we had to crowd into the back.  Yes, good Catholics to go mass, even on holiday.
 
 
Most educational moment
 
My dad's ex-employee took us to his apartment and we had a look at the wonderful view from the balcony.  But then I looked straight down, and I saw the favela, or shanty town.  On a hill right next to the apartment block, there were people living in shacks.  
 
Now this may seem completely ridiculous coming from a woman who grew up in South Africa which, of course, has massive shanty towns, even to this day.  But there were laws back then about who could go where, so I had never seen real poverty in South Africa, not even the proof less than ten minutes drive from my own house.
 
Later that day we went back to our hosts' car and it had been keyed, all the way along the side.  They explained that poor people are angry and take it out on rich people.  The discrepancy in income is huge in Brazil.
  
This fact was crystallized for me later that night when we sat outside next to the beach, having a drink.  A tired old woman, bent over and wrinkled, approached us, offering us peanuts which were roasted in a little contraption she carried - two tin cans, one with hot coals in the bottom.  As our hosts declined her offer and waved her away from our table, I looked behind her and saw a fat man, with a moustache (of course!), wearing a Panama hat and dressed in a white suit.  He was being loud and wobbled across to an open-topped luxury car.  He was like something out of a movie.
 
I think a small part of me, in seeing that stark contrast in economic status in Rio, had a better understanding of the truth of my own country.
 
 
Favorite memory
 
My dad's ex-employee and his wife took us to eat at a churrascaria.
 
It was nothing short of amazing. 
 
We sat down, family style, at big tables.  You could order a plate of salads and rice if you wanted to, but I saw that a lot of people didn't even bother.  They had come for the meat.  This place would be a vegan's nightmare.
 
You could smell the meat cooking on the open fire outside. 
 
Then the men started coming round.
 
They had long, thick skewers with freshly barbecued meat on them.  And they came up to you and, with sharp knives, carved some meat onto your plate, cutting and cutting until you asked them to stop. 
 
 

 
And they just kept on coming.  And coming.  And coming.  
 
And the meat was good.
 
When we got too full and started to shake our heads - No, thank you - they seemed to get a bit annoyed.
 
I must have had eyes as big as saucers.  I've never experienced anything like it in my life. 
 
 
And so those are my memories of Rio.  I'd love to go back, and include a trip up the Amazon - on a nice boat with mosquito nets, of course.  I'd also like to see the carnival - from a nice hotel balcony. 
 
Maybe one day...
 
Sunday
Sep132009

Travel - Paris

 

There's something about Paris.  I am not sure what it is.  There's just something in the air.

Never mind the tourist nightmare that is the Champs Elyssee.  No.  Just walk through the tree-lined side streets, and you'll see what I mean.  

Is it elegance?

Is it culture?

Is it because the local women sashay by, dressed in that seemingly efforless, yet stunningly groomed way that no other nation seems to be able to match?

 

Is it because the historic buildings are so amazingly beautiful, the river Seine flowing lazily between them?

 

Is it because you can sit at a cafe and have a meal that will delight your tastebuds at that wonderful relaxed pace that allows you to really wind down and just look at the world for a change?

Is it that lovely, sing-song languge you hear spoken all around you, like music in words?

When you visit Paris, you suddenly understand all those French phrases that we use in English without translation like:

 

  • Joie de vivre
  • She has that certain je ne sais quoi

 

If Grace Kelly were a city, she'd be Paris.  

 

Saturday
Aug292009

Travel - Countries I have visited


visited 19 states (8.44%)
Create your own visited map of The World or Best time to visit Havana