I love to wander the globe, but I prefer to get off the main tourist paths. Resorts, actually any kind of hotels with stars, are not my kind of vacation destination. I prefer meeting a local population with a desire to paint a mural and then eat some home-cooking to celebrate. That's my kind of travel whether it's in Africa, Europe, the Americas or even Ohio.
Taking a trip on a luxury cruise is simply not my style. Inconceivable! Traveling with a few thousand strangers just doesn't do it for me. Under normal circumstances, I opt out of tours as well. But, even I have to admit, travel is a whole lot easier if you wander the globe with people who know the lay of the land, know what they're talking about, and have a hotel lined up. So I must confess, on two occasions, I added my name to tour groups in order to visit some rather unique corners of the planet. I wanted to see Eastern Europe (behind the Iron Curtain) and the Galapagos Islands. It was pretty good timing as well. There is no longer an Iron Curtain and everyone and their brother now easily tour the Galapagos Islands. I've even gone back there to paint my murals on three islands.
Summer of 1986 You have to take a cruise to see the Galapagos Islands. And, I admit it, another reason that I don't like the idea of cruises is because I really hate feeling sea sick. Some people have no problem with waves, either gentle or crashing. I'm not one of them. Me and my inner ear do not like the swell of the sea. Please, do not mess with our balance and equilibrium. Because, if you have any experience with sea sickness, you've learned a few vocabulary words. Sometimes, learning vocabulary words is supposed to be a good thing. It isn't if the words have anything to do with sea sickness. First, you learn all about nausea. It's that mildly uncomfortable disturbance in your throat and stomach (mostly stomach) that leads to the next vocabulary word that you do not want to experience first-hand, emesis. Never heard of that word? Actually, I had to look it up. It's the act of throwing up. In addition to that word, research provided a whole lot of other synonyms that everyone knows: barf, gag, heave, hurl, puke, retch, spew, spit up, upchuck, vomit and - my personal favorite - blow chunks. When I lived in Africa, it was perfectly normal to talk about diarrhea. Everyone had it and there was so much to discuss. It's kind of the same with sea sickness. Once you've spent time retching everything you've eaten, or even dreamed of eating, and then "enjoyed" dry-heaving what is no longer there to heave, there are things to discuss. I've had it all. Yes, I know sea-sickness way too well.
Rest assured, my fondest memories of the Galapagos Islands have nothing to do with equilibrium (or lack thereof), choppy seas or blown chunks. It is a truly an awe-inspiring location where nature is experienced at its best. I snorkeled in gigantic lava tubes with sharks below me. (And, yes, I screamed underwater when a sea lion swam by my peripheral view. I thought it was a shark.) I walked right up near giant tortoises, frigates, albatross and blue-footed boobies. Flamingos danced in unison across a lagoon. Marine iguanas spit salt water from their nostrils as they sunned on volcanic rocks. I rested from snorkeling on a large rock that I shared with two penguins as they preened themselves. And, perhaps, my favorite moment was sharing a beach on Santa Fe Island with dozens of sea lions, massively huge sea lions.
That should be enough. Honestly, who needs any more from such a magnificent experience as my time in the Galapagos Islands? But, it seems to be the gift . . . or trip, that keeps on giving.
January 1988, in Monrovia, Liberia The main events here probably took place in February, but you'll soon see why the month of January is so important to me back in 1988. It was my first month in the Peace Corps and I just arrived in Africa for my training. As I was getting used to life without running water or electricity, as well as learning to "enjoy" warm Coca-Cola under a blistering tropical sun, some things from back home were missed (or at least then, now and forever greatly more appreciated). That list included ice, air-conditioning, warm showers and written communication. The internet would have been on "the list" as well but that was still a good tens years into the future. There were two occasions over my Peace Corps experience that generated a lot of letters coming my way. One was when I told family and friends about malaria. I've had it five times while in Africa. I only wrote home about it once. That was enough for my poor mother. I learned quickly that she didn't need to know everything about my Liberian experience.
While I sailed around the Galapagos Islands on my "more than just a little remote" cruise, there was another boat that we frequently crossed paths with. There were three people from the National Geographic Magazine who also preferred corners of the islands where the cruise lines never passed. Yes, of course, I had serious traveler and photographer envy. What kind of traveler wouldn't want to work for that magazine? What photographer wouldn't want at least one of their photos forever remembered in its pages? Maybe I don't travel in the same kind of circles as you. But, on several occasions, I've heard people say, "Wouldn't you just love to have one of your photos in National Geographic?" And, when that happens, I know how to silence a crowd.
You see, my photo was in National Geographic magazine.
It wasn't a photograph that I took. I'm in the photograph. Perhaps that's even better? And, this didn't happen in just any old issue of the magazine. It was in the 100th Anniversary issue of National Geographic, January, 1988. As the passengers of my little groups approached some sea lions on Santa Fe Island, once again we met up with the trio from the magazine. We had no idea that we were being photographed. But, yep, there we are on pages 146 and 147 in a two-page spread. The sea lions were front and center in the picture, but I was the first person in the pack. Yep, that's me with huge glasses, a beard that disappeared while in the Peace Corps, as well as blue and white shorts. It's a fashion statement that can't be missed. But, nobody wants to be missed when they are in National Geographic Magazine.
I showed it often, and then I returned the magazine.
October 1990, in Madrid, Spain Most Peace Corps Volunteers return to America after their two years of service and rarely have another similar kind of experience. That wasn't me. I wandered overseas for around twenty years. And, the next stop after the Peace Corps was Casablanca, Morocco, where I taught at an international school. I had another amazing two-year experience.
Teachers at international schools have some wonderful perks with their jobs. One of my favorites was attending teacher conferences. Over the years, it's how I visited Hong Kong, Beijing, Shanghai, Warsaw, Copenhagen, Rome, Rotterdam, Amsterdam and Gaborone. Like I said, the job had perks. While I was teaching in Morocco, I attended a conference in Madrid, Spain.
Okay, I actually attended conference meetings and I gave more than my share of presentations. However, those were not generally my highlights. Sometimes, you have to also be a tourist. While in Madrid, it's a must to visit the Prado, the national art museum. And, there are so many wide boulevards, elegant buildings and well-stocked shops. There was a whole lot more available shopping in Spain than there was in Morocco. So, I joined my co-workers and hit the streets as much as possible.
On one particular occasion, a fellow teacher needed to find the little boy's baño. Since nature wasn't calling me, I wandered into a bookshop. My favorite magazines tend to involve travel and photography. And, if the photos are good, it doesn't matter if the publications are in Spanish. In this particular shop, I spied a magazine called Rutas del Mundo. Even with my limited Spanish skills, I knew that meant Routes of the World. That was enough to attract my attention. As I thumbed through the issue, I saw an article on the Galapagos Islands. It had photos of the iguanas, flamingos, tortoises and frigates that brought me right back to those enchanted islands. There was no need to browse any through any other magazines. I was completely hooked.
As I turned the pages, I saw the same beach on Santa Fe Island where I once saw all of those sea lions. Then, I took a closer look at the boat that approached the shore. It looked just like the one I had been on. And, when I took an even closer look, there I was sitting smack dab in the middle of that boat, right there on page 54. If I ever saw something like that in a movie or read about it in a book, I'd never believe those odds were possible. I mean, seriously, what were the odds of me being in Madrid when the magazine was for sale? And then, add to the odds that I actually needed to stroll into the bookstore? And, the tale also required somebody else going to a baño. You and Ripley may not believe it, but I still have a copy of that magazine in my office. It's my best souvenir from Spain
September 2016 in Mallorca, Spain It's my blog. So, I know I talk about what happens to me a lot. But, I am well aware that almost everyone I meet has a story. We just need to take more time, put the phone down, and have a conversation. I've written a fairly long blog about getting my picture in National Geographic. But, I wasn't the only one in that photograph. There were also three women and two men as well as a herd of sea lions. Our guide, Carlos David, was the man in black. If you look at the picture, he wasn't wearing much black, but he could get away with it.I never know who will contact me since my cartoons are all over the internet and I can rather easily be located on Facebook as well. One day, out of the blue, Carlos David sent me a photo of our Galapagos beach scene. He attached one simple question. "Are you the bearded man in the foreground of this photo?" Yep, I'm the bearded man and he's the man in black. But, I still can't believe he found me. How could he remember my name when he had so many guided tours? His memory must be way better than mine. But still, back then, nobody had email or Facebook. It's a traveling miracle in my mind.
I learned a little of the Carlos David story, but I'm sure he has so much more that he could share. On one of his guide jobs, he worked on a private yacht for two weeks. He did such a good job (which is no surprise) that he was hired to go around the world with those people (which is kind of a surprise). He ended up in Mallorca, Spain, and put down his roots on another island in another corner of the world. More than likely, Carlos David was in Spain when I wandered into that bookshop in Madrid. Now, if he had happened to be looking at magazines at that same moment, that's a story that nobody would believe.