Caballos and Capybaras

For Saturday's breakfast, Lucie had given us a tray of granola, bread, jams, and fruit, the night before.  Our cabin had a portable propane burner and an old-style single serving percolator coffee maker to be used with the propane stove.  This was the most important item to kick off the day. I quickly got this fired up and cooking.  

Lucie knocked on our door at one point and provided us some pourable strawberry yogurt, milk, and fresh fruit as well.  We got our selves dressed and enjoyed a quick breakfast while Lucie and her assistants began getting the horses fed and ready for our ride that morning.  

Breakfast in our Cabin

Once we emerged well fed, she began to brief us on our upcoming ride.  She asked what level of equestrian skills we had, and we explained that we are all pretty much novices.  She walked through the various commands that the horses were familiar with, emphasizing what she referred to as "zero violence" training for the horses in which there was no kicking involved to get them to begin moving or speed up.  Instead the horses responded to an upward brush on their mane to get them to move forward, and other sounds to get them to stop.  

Horses Getting Ready Outside our Kitchen Window

She selected a horse for each of us.  We mounted, and then she lined us all up to head out onto the trails.  In addition to Lucie leading us, two of her assistants Alessandra and Nicholas joined us.  Alessandra spoke decent English (probably a bit better than my Spanish).  Nicholas was learning English and tried very hard to speak it (often with coaching and assistance from Lucie who was trying to help teach him the language), but he was still very early in his learning process.

Lucie led our caravan slowly throughout her property and throughout the local community.  She explained that the the residents of that area were all musicians.  She pointed out the local bar (which unfortunately I wouldn't be around long enough to sample the craft beers on tap), a building that was intended to be a school (but they didn't have enough children and/or resources to get it off the ground), a small music hall and a few other buildings.  

As we ventured further away into the open land away from the community, the trail varied from being anywere to the width of a road, to an extremely narrow trail through brush and trees that swiped at our legs and faces as the horses carried us through.  

Alessandra and Aimee who were taking up the rear of the caravan spent much of the time talking (in English).  Alessandra was from Brazil but was studying equine veterinarian medicine, and was working with Lucie.  When Aimee mentioned we lived in Tennessee, Alessandra shared that her sister was in the US and going to school in Tennessee (ultimately, I believe we determined her sister was in Memphis).

The weather was about perfect for horseback riding as it was in the upper 60s/low 70s (Fahrenheit), cloudy, and an occasional very light drizzle.  We continued through open countryside surrounded by hills.  The peacefulness of the surrounding Uruguayan countryside was striking.  Accompanying the clacking of our horses hooves and the soft instrumental folk guitar music playing from a small speaker Nicholas' was carrying, was a subtle but resounding distant wooshing sound through the trees that amplified the sense of solitude.  Though the breeze was light, its resonating sound across the landscape was surprisingly bold.  I was captivated.  It seemed like something I could listen to for days, and I could immediately understand the allure of a simple gaucho lifestyle.  I immediately remembered the experience of sitting in Wadi Rum two years earlier and the same sudden-onset understanding of the allure to the simplicity and serenity of the Bedouin nomadic life in Jordan.

Our path took us over the river twice.  The first time the river was only a few inches deep and the horses navigated it with ease.  The second time we crossed it at a different spot, the water was about two feet deep.  I was amazed at the agility of the horses navigating the rocky bottom of the river in that depth of water.  I certainly would have ended up tripping and falling into the river if I navigated it on my own feet. 

As we came out on the other side, I began to notice that Zac's horse, which was directly in front of me, seemed to be making a consistent metal "clack" sound with every footstep (as opposed to intermittent and sporadic throughout the beginning of the trip.)  I looked down and noticed that I could see the rim of the horse shoe in front of his horse's back left foot.  I began checking all of the other horses feet to see if this was normal, and didn't see any other foot where I could see the shoe.  I called out to Lucie who was a couple horses up, and told her what I saw.

Lucie asked Nicholas to hop off of his horse and go check it out.  Sure enough, half of the shoe had dislodged from the horse's hoof, and it had rotated out in front of the foot.  Nicholas pried the other half of the shoe off, and put the shoe in his bag.  Aimee asked if the horse would be ok shoeless for the rest of the trip, and Lucie assured us for the short remaining duration he would be fine.  Lucie was quite thankful for the catch, as she said the loose shoe could have easily caused the horse to get seriously injured.  

About an hour and a half into the trek, Lucie gave us the offer to take a side path up the side of a hill that would bring us to an overlook of the valley, or if we were tiring of the horses, we could head back.  We all opted for the extended trip.  

This took us up a much steeper path, through much denser brush for 15 minutes or so, but ultimately we arrived at an open outcropping of rock on which we could all gather.  We could see miles of the Uruguayan countryside.  We took a few photos, and headed back down.  

For the last bit of the ride Lucie recommended, if we were comfortable, with a faster gallop for part of the walk back towards the camp.  We were willing, and managed our horses with ease.  (All credit to the horses, not our own skills).

Once we reached the camp and dismounted from our horses, Lucie suggest we take about 45 minutes to clean up and rest, and lunch would be served. 

Lunch was provided in the same cove under the trees as dinner the night before, but this time there were several places set, not only for us, but for Lucie, Alessandra, and Nicholas.  In addition to the great vegetarian meal, we shared great conversation with our companions for the morning, bouncing back and forth between English and Spanish.  Alessandra had an extremely romantic view of much of the US as cowboys, and rugged men walking around in ten gallon hats and boots.  In cities, she had a yearning to experience a meal in an American diner and sipping on a warm cup of coffee.  

Unfortunately, as she asked details about these aspects of American life, we inadvertently crushed her dreams by explaining that its really only a few places perhaps in the Southwest where you'll find large ranches with cowboys wandering around like in the old movies, and that for much of the country that is not the case. Additionally, discussing coffee, (as Aimee and I had commented on how good the coffee in Uruguay was, as it was very strong and robust everywhere we had it) she asked if the coffee was not like that in America, particularly in American diners.  We had to break it to her that typical restaurant coffee was close to water when compared to the coffee in Uruguay.  She told us we were crushing her dreams of American life.  We assured here there were some great things to see...but its definitely not all cowboys and good coffee.

As we wrapped up our lunch, Alessandra and Nicholas mentioned there was a community farmer's market that they were going to stop at, and we could follow them on the way out.  We thought this sounded like a good idea, so we followed them about a mile up the road.  We pulled into a large dirt lot with a few large agricultural looking structures around it, but we didn't see much of a market.  When we got out, Alessandra was talking to one of the people there, who explained the market didn't really get going for another couple of hours.  

They did have a small convenient store, so we got out and took a look at it, and talked to the husband of the woman running the store.  He too was from Europe (Germany) and had lived in many countries when he was young, but fell in love with Uruguay.  He did complain about the cost of living in the country, but enjoyed the lifestyle here.  

Before we left, I asked if he knew if there was an ATM in Rocha (the nearest city which we would be driving through when we left).  He told me yes, there was one on the main plaza.  He offered to draw me a map, which I replied "I'm sure I'll be able to find it", but he insisted.  He stepped into his house (the entrance of which was to the side of the convenient store), and began rummaging through piles on his table for something to write with.  He found a cup full of pencils, and flipped through them, as most did not have a point.  He found one with a point, but then was lacking paper.  I insisted again I would be fine, but he persisted saying, no I have some paper, one minute.  He searched through the room that we were standing in, couldn't find any, and then disappeared into a back room for a minute.  I heard rummaging sounds, and he finally reappeared, with a small 4x6 scrap of paper.   

On the paper, he drew a large square, on the center of one side, he drew a cross, and said "this is a church" (which was followed by a slight chuckle, assumedly at his artwork).  Then he furrowed his brow to think very hard, and said there are two banks, a Canadian one called ScotiaBank, and another one, that everyone calls a BROU. Look for the BROU, it should be over here, and with that he wrote "BROU" on the opposite side of the square from the "Church".  

I thanked him for all the assistance, amused as I walked out with the product of 5 minutes of effort resulting in a scrap of paper with nothing more than a cross, a large square, and the word "BROU" on it.  

We jumped in the car, and headed over to Rocha, where we did find the ATM, as well as a gas station, and gassed up for the rest of our drive.  We were staying the next several nights in Punta del Diablo, but first were going to stop at the Parque Nacional de Santa Teresa.  This was a large park on the coast, with a few different historical sites, and most importantly, it was a place that had a lot of capybara.  Aimee's highest priority on this trip was to see and/or touch a capybara.   We were running a bit late, and it looked like we'd get to the park a little more than an hour before it closed at 6:00pm  However, this was the prime time of day to see capybara from what we had been told. 

We arrived at the park and had to register our entry, though we were not charged to enter or park.  (I'm still not sure if this was by accident or design, as I thought there was an entry fee.)  We parked and walk around a bit.  There was a small conservatory which we walked through with various plants from all over the world.  We spent a few minutes in here as well as wandering the gardens outside, taking in all the sights and admiring the flowers, plants, and trees in the Jardín Uruguayo. 

Parque Nacional de San Teresa Conservatory

From here, we found a path that led down towards the lagoon, which was where we figured we had the best opportunity to see a capybara.  The path led to a narrow boardwalk over a swamp and led to a lookout point on the lagoon.  

Upon reaching the lookout, we spotted a couple of very large capybara!  Unfortunately, they were on the other side of the lagoon, just hanging around with a couple of large birds, doing what capybara do.  We tried to determine if there was a way to easily get to that side of the lagoon, but we did not see a clear path to get there from this side.  

Capybara in the Distance

As we returned in the direction of the conservatory, we paid much closer attention to our surroundings.  We saw what had to be capybara droppings all over, and much of it looked very fresh.  There had to be some not too far away.  We found it both in the grass near the dirt paths in the gardens as well as on the stone paths around the buildings.  We quietly and slowly walked throughout the whole area.  But unfortunately, we couldn't find and of them around. 

It was near closing time for the entrance to the park.  We had only seen a small corner of the park, so we decided to jump in the car and see what else we were missing.  There was an old Portuguese fort built in 1762 on the far end of the park, which we had decided to skip since we were going to see a different fort near the city of Chuy the next day.  Instead, we drove slowly through all the small roads of the park.  Once we got away from the area near the conservatory and other buildings, that much of the rest of the park was a very large campground, with what appeared to be hundreds of campsites over a few square miles of land.  Being a holiday weekend at the beginning of South American summer, it was packed with families in tents, people walking around, kids playing games and eating food.  

After giving ourselves a quick tour of the grounds, it was closing time (for those not camping overnight) and time for us to leave the park.  Our next destination, Punta del Diablo, was conveniently right next to the park.  We drove around the corner, and headed down the long central road into the beach town.

Punta del Diablo is a small town full of restaurants, bars, and shops, and hundreds of generally small cabins, houses, and a few small boutique hotels.  It would seem the houses in the center part of the city are almost all rental houses. The roads are all dusty dirt roads, and as you get towards the center of town on the beach, the density of restaurants, bars, and people walking around increases dramatically.  

We had already had some issues with our lodging.  We had rented a small house through AirBNB a few months earlier.  When we were heading to the airport to leave for Uruguay however, we received a message saying there was a problem with the water at the house, and they had to cancel.  We quickly rebooked into a small hotel, which also had rooms advertised on AirBnB.  We knew approximately where it was in the town and drove that direction.  As it was a large white three story building with a large thatched roof, surrounded by cabins and small houses, we figured it would be easy to spot.  It was called Hotel Diablo. 

We found it, but when we pulled up, we noticed the sign over the door said Cuatro Lunas.  It seemed very clear that it was the right building, from all the pictures on AirBnB.  I realized as we walked in, I never reached out to the AirBNB contact to arrange check in.  However, being a hotel, I also figured everything could be arranged at the front desk.

A jovial young man in his early thirties sat behind the desk. As I was expecting for most of the rest of the trip, Spanish would be the only language available to me, and I did my best to let him know that we were checking in, and that we had a reservation through AirBNB.  He looked at me a bit strangely and told me that they don't use the AirBnB platform to rent or advertise their rooms.  Regardless, he checked the system to see if somehow we were registered as guests, but we were not.  I asked if it was possible that they had a long term resident of the hotel that was renting their own room on AirBNB, and he said that was possible.  I let him know the name that was the contact on the listing in AirBNB, "Marcelo", but he said he did not know of anyone there by that name.  At one point as the conversation was getting more difficult, and I didn't have my translator handy, he pulled up google translate on his computer, and we worked through the more challenging parts of the conversation letting google translate for us.

I tried calling Marcelo's number as listed in the AirBNB listing, but got an automated response that the number couldn't go through.  This wasn't looking good.  

I asked the young man at the desk if there was a room available if we didn't get the AirBnB thing straightened out, and he said yes.

I called AirBnB, which was fairly responsive and helpful, but their policy was that before they could cancel and refund me for a no-show, they were required to attempt to reach the listing owner, and give them a certain amount of time to respond.  In this case they alotted 60 minutes.  They told us that for our inconvenience, we could get a $50 reimbursement for dinner while we wait.  

Found the Beach/Waiting for AirBnB

So we headed down to the beach, found a small shack, and got some food while we waited for a response that we were sure wouldn't come.  The beach side shack was closing for the evening, so all they had was the last few empanadas and some other snacks.  The weather was still a bit overcast and in the upper 60s.  Not quite beach weather at this point, but we sat along side the beach and enjoyed the waves and smell of sea salt.  Once the hour had passed and we got confirmation of our refund we went back to the hotel to check in.  While the young man took care of our paperwork, a woman in her late 30s met us to show us to our room.  For all of his efforts, I gave him a box of Nashville "Goo Goo Clusters" which we generally bring on trips with us to give as gifts to the people we meet around the world.  He thanked me gratuitously with a huge smile.

Our room was on the second floor and was a two story room, with a large bed on the first level and a small bed in the loft on the second.  Next to our bed were large windows that opened into the room with the ocean in the distance.  It was beautiful.

Before the woman left, I asked if there was a remote controller for the AC unit on the wall.  She replied something that I didn't understand.  I asked her to repeat and I still didn't understand.  I attempted to get my electronic translator and fumbled with it while she repeated herself 3 times and I became more flustered as I wasn't understanding her words.  She seemed to be getting more annoyed, and I simply said thank you. As soon as she left, I realized she said "Voy a traerlo."  Traer is one of the words I always seem to forget the meaning of: "I am going to bring it".  The poor girl could have brought it 5 times over in the time I kept asking her what she said. 

When she returned with the remote control, I thanked her profusely, and apologized, explaining that I realized what she was telling me as soon as she walked away. She smiled politely.

After dropping off all of our bags, we decided to take a quick tour of the town and find ourselves a full dinner.  As we were walking out of the hotel, we met a woman in the lobby who appeared to be the owner of the hotel, probably in her late 50s met us.  She spoke English and introduced herself to us.  We mentioned we were walking into the town center (about eighth of a mile from the hotel) and she said she would walk with us, as she was going that way as well.  She was originally from Austria (same as Lucie) and we had a lovely talk as we got into town.  As we approached the town, we could hear drums being played up ahead of us, and she explained it was a traditional Afro-Uruguayan drumming called Candombe. As we got to the edge of the town center, we parted ways and thanked her again.

Now that it was dark, the streets were packed with people and the restaurants and bars as well were buzzing with activity.  We walked through a few gift shops and made some purchases, and found ourselves a busy restaurant called ¡Hola Amor!.  We grabbed a full dinner, and then returned to our hotel for some much needed sleep.

South for the Winter

 As the summer began to end in Nashville, Aimee and I discussed the idea of heading somewhere warm over the Christmas/New Year's holidays.  The youngest two of the boys were going to be out of town for the break, and Zac, the oldest was going to be home from college.  Looking at our travel map, we noticed that South America was completely bare, aside from our 2018 trip (which I never blogged) to Santa Marta, Colombia.  I suggested Uruguay. Aimee asked what one does in Uruguay.  I responded "I have no idea? Let's find out!"  Furthermore, it looked like it had a lot of coastline with beaches, and looked like its latitude in the southern hemisphere was northern enough that it should be nice and warm for the beginning of its summer in December.  So we began planning a trip for Zac and us to spend the New Years in Uruguay!

Ryan's 6th Grade Report

Admittedly I knew very little about the country, (though I did have to write a country report about it in the 6th grade)  Initial research on the country indicated that it is at the top end of economic strength and stability in Latin America, it is sparsely populated with 3.5 million people in an area about the size of North and South Carolina combined.  1.5 million of the population live in the capital city of Montevideo.  The capital is unusual compared to the rest of Latin America for its relatively low crime rates. Also interestingly, the country has almost universal access to safe, clean drinking water.  All of the above, made this a pretty simple destination for a quick trip.  The only challenge was that most of the country speaks only Spanish.  Some residents know some Portuguese and English, but it is few and far between.  Fortunately, while I still don't consider myself fluent, I do speak quite a bit of Spanish and am comfortable surviving in Spanish only surroundings, especially with the now widely available translating technology to assist if I get in a bind. 

Travel to and from Uruguay's capital city Montevideo was fairly simple with a direct flight from Miami to Montevideo.  This 9 hour flight was overnight, which while it saves us a bit of time in not wasting a day flying, it does make for a tired first day, as it is never possible to sleep as well on a plane as in a bed.

We boarded our flight at about 11pm, and tried to get comfortable.  As the plane pushed back from the gate the Captain got on the intercom to provide his pre-flight announcement.  He introduced the flight "Good evening, this is American Airlines flight 989 with service to.... to Monty....uh...Monty...vid..ee-yo".   Aimee and I looked at each other at the same time both with the same question.   "Does this guy actually have any idea where he's going?"  He sounded very much like a 5th grader reading a big word for the first time when pronouncing the name of the city.

Nonetheless, the flight went off without a hitch.  While our seats were in coach, the length of the flight included dinner, which gave us just enough time to each watch a movie while "enjoying" our airplane food and some cocktails before trying to sleep.

We landed in Montevideo about 10am local time (only 3 hours ahead of Nashville).  The airport, though very small, was fairly modern.  We tried to get off swiftly and get a good spot in line for Immigration, which was not terribly busy and only took about 20 minutes to get through.  As we got up to the immigration officer, we noticed something that we had read ahead of time was a ubiquitous part of Uruguayan life.  Behind the officer, was a wooden carrying box with a large thermos and a maté gourd with a silver straw called a bombilla (pronounced in Uruguayan Spanish as bombeeyja).  Similar to wandering a city in the US and seeing everyone walking around with Starbucks, in Uruguay everyone walks around with a maté, as well as a thermos of hot water to continue filling it throughout the day.  Maté is a yerba tea, and the locals will fill their gourd (which are usually either encased in leather or aluminum) half-way with yerba tea, packed to one side, and pour an ounce or two of water next to it, and sip it through the bombilla which is essentially a hollowed-out spoon with pin sized holes in the bottom of it.  The thermoses are either carried around tucked under an arm, or in a small carrying case that holds the thermos and the maté gourd.

After making this observation we quickly made our way past immigration and into the airport.  I went to the rental car desk while Aimee and Zac went to grab our luggage.  I had a growing anxiety that our 3 large suitcases and 3 small suitcases would not all fit in the rental care we had gotten.  Originally there was a huge price differnece between the "Nissan Versa or similar" and the next size up, and so I stayed with the smaller car.  Now I was worried we wouldn't all fit.  I asked at the desk if they had any larger cars, but the answer was no.  The rep spoke limited English, so we communicated back and forth in English and Spanish depending on the depth of my vocabulary for car rentals.

We had planned to have the rental car only for the time we were outside of the city, and figured in Montevideo we would Uber anywhere we needed to go so as to not have to deal with parking in a big, crowded city.  Avis had a rental office near the Mercado del Puerto area of Montivideo, and we selected to turn it in New Year's day at that office in the afternoon, since a lot of our sightseeing would be near there.  As the Avis rep took my information, he said that there was a problem with the return, because that office was closed on New Year's Day.  I explained that the app allowed me to book the return there.  He replied "Don't worry about it, we will arrange for pick up there.  We will be in contact with you later in the week."

His final warning to me was that there are speed cameras all throughout the country and to watch my speed.  An American standing next to me also getting a car turned to me to emphasize the warning: "Yes, be careful, my dad racked up $2000 in speeding tickets when he was here."  Oof.  Message received.

I met up with Aimee and Zac, and we headed out to the car, hoping we could get all the suitcases and ourselves to fit in it.

Fortunately, with only a small requirement of Tetris skills, we were able to get several bags in the trunk, and a couple in one half of the back seat, leaving Zac plenty of room to ride next to them.

Our first destination in Uruguay was a horse ranch out in the countryside.  It was a 3 hour ride from the airport according to Google maps, and we had planned to get there in time for a horseback ride and dinner.  First we were going to stop in a small town called Minas on the way there for lunch.

Driving in Uruguay was not too difficult.  Roads are very well maintained, and signage is almost to the point of excessive.  Intersections are all roundabouts.  Speed limits do change often depending on road features and when you are nearing a town.  Also, fortunately, the speed cameras are all announced with a large sign telling you there is a speed camera ahead.  While I didn't want to risk the tickets by depending on this, I continued to very closely abide by the speed limit.  While face to face Uruguayans are extremely laid back and friendly, they do drive at high speeds, and constantly pass on 2 lane highways, (preceded by riding extremely close behind you).  It is interesting, having driven in various countries and experienced various types of driving cultures, It struck me that this type of driving in the US would feel threatening, aggressive and road ragey.  However I quickly adapted to the local culture and begin to adopt the same approach after not too long.

The landscape was a light green color, with rolling fields and vegetation that seemed somehow simliar yet also very different to us.  There were a lot of palm trees, though many were shorter, squatter, palm trees than what you see in California or Florida, but between them, the grassy fields and trees looked like vegetation you'd see in the mid-west.  We also noticed there were horses everywhere----tied up on the side of the road, out in fields.  Uruguay is gaucho country, full of cattle farms, and we were starting to get a flavor for it.

As we approached the town of Minas, we saw a billboard for Alfajores.  These are what we would call macaroons in the US, and the town of Minas has a long famous history of manufacturing them.  In fact they have a museum dedicated to the history of alfajores.  We were on a tight schedule and weren't going to get a chance to stop though.  In my research it appeared there were a few restaurants near the city's plaza (all the cities in Uruguay seem to have one or more typical Spanish-style plaza in their centers).  We headed over to that area, parked, and walked around to find one.

Plaza Libertad, Minas Uruguay

We found a small restaurant, "El Artesanal de Minas Resto" which had outdoor seating overlooking the plaza.  We asked for a table and sat down.

Even given my decent Spanish skills, I have noticed an inevitability when it comes to the first restaurant experience in any new country---looking like a complete idiot.  It seems to be a mixture of learning the standard flow of the dining experience, the various regional accents, and just the anxiety of trying too hard to not come off like a complete moron.  I did not succeed.

Our Lunch View

The waitress arrived, and I did explain that I speak only a little Spanish.  She offered drinks, and we went with just water.  (Interestingly, Uruguay has a 0.0 BAC limit for driving, so even a single beer at a meal and then driving is against the law, which was a bit disappointing). After ordering the water, she followed it up with an unexpected question.  I find the hardest part of a second language is the listening part, when in conversation.  People in any language don't pause between words when talking, sometimes making simple words hard to understand.  When the waitress asked, I heard "congasosingas".  This was totally unexpected when simply asking for water.  I looked at the waitress like a dear in the headlights and asked her to repeat.  She looked confused by my confusion, and repeated.  It didn't help. I looked at her, looked at the menu, quickly trying to figure out the right answer.  She repeated probably 3 more times.  It was clear that this was such a simple question that she had no idea how to even try and explain what she was asking. 

Suddenly after far too long, it hit me "con gas o sin gas", meaning do you want water with bubbles or without bubbles.  I was awash in embarrassment as the light bulb went on over my head.  I asked Aimee and Zac if they wanted carbonated water or plain water.  The answer was plain.  I let her know "tres botellas de agua, sin gas".  

This was not a good start.  We still had to figure out the menu and order food.  

Uruguayan restaurants generally serve various types of beef, as well as a ton of Italian dishes (The majority of the residents are a mix of Spanish and Italian heritage).  Pizza, pasta, various types of french fries, and everywhere has Milanesa or Milanesa Napolitano.  All of which, and their typical descriptions on a menu, were new to us at this point. 

Aimee, who is almost vegetarian (she despises any meat except chicken, turkey products, and some fish) was very apprehensive of accidentally ordering beef or ham.  The Milanesa Napolitano de Pollo sounded like it was a chicken dish, so she was going to try that.  When the server came over, I asked if she could have that, and asked to confirm if it had any other meat on it besides chicken.  I again got the sense that I asked a dumb question, as the waitress explained Napolitano means it has ham and cheese.  I didn't fully understand what she was explaining (though it became more clear after she left, Napolitano style is red sauce, with a slice of cheese and a slice of ham on top.)

We ultimately ordered two Milanesas (not Napolitano) for Zac and Aimee.  The one thing that seemed fully clear after all the confusion, was that we wanted two of the chicken dish with no meat (besides chicken).  I ordered a chivito (which is by far the most common quick food in Uruguay - a sandwich with beef, ham, cheese, and egg (I asked for no egg), and olives).  

When the food came out, Aimee's was a large tenderized, breaded chicken breast,  on a plate of fries, but with tomato sauce, cheese, and ham on top.  Zac's came out just the plain chicken breast, dry, with fries.  (My chivito came out as expected, except at this restaurant they serve the meat on a bed of fries, instead of as a sandwhich).

We did ask for the dish with the ham to be corrected since that was the only part of the order that we didn't have confusion (and Aimee detests the flavor of ham), which the server did quickly replace. 

We ate the food, exhausted by the experience, and thanked the waitress heartily when we were done for her patience throughout the process.  

At this point we were running very late for our check in at the horse ranch.  We had thought we'd be there at 3:30 and now it was looking more like 4:30. We jumped in the car, and continued the trek.  

At one point, in watching my Waze GPS app, it seemed like it was taking me a very lon and indirect route.  I checked Google maps, which took a much shorter direct way saving 45 minutes.  In trying to reconcile the two we did make a few wrong turns, backtracked, and ended up even further behind.  As we got to the final hour of driving, the paved road we were on, took a turn onto a dirt road.  It was a wide and fairly well maintained dirt road, but it did go for quite a while throughout the rolling hills of the countryside.  We were definitely out in the middle of nowhere.  Our cell signal was coming in and out, but it was a direct drive to where we were heading, and we still saw cars passing us every 10 minutes or so.  

We finally found the turn-off of the highway to get to Caballos de Luz.  Aimee had been the one to discover this activity when we had been planning our trip.  She was intrigued both because they had horseback riding, as well as that the food they serve is entirely vegetarian.  The ranch is run by a woman originally from Austria but who has been in Uruguay for quite some time.  The ranch is self-sustaining serving only locally grown food and is very much off the grid.

As we pulled down the smaller winding dirt road following the signs, at one point, there was a small handpainted sign that said "Caballos de Luz" by a gravel drive.  We turned into it, and drove an a very rough, narrow gravel road for a quarter mile until we saw another pull-off to the right with a house, or a much rougher looking road heading down the hillside, to what looked like nothing.  The house looked a bit ramshackle, with a lot of large random items discarded around it.  Squalor would be an extreme description, but it definitely didn't look very functional (there was a large mattress up against a wall outside, and an old bathtub full of dirty water sitting next to the house.)

We Must Be Close...

We decided this couldn't be where we were heading, but yet the road ahead didn't look like it went anywhere so we turned around and headed back to the smaller road we had turned off of, and wandered further to see if there was somewhere else we should be.  There was not, so we headed back to the house, pulled up to it and I jumped out to see if someone was around.  I called out a couple times with no response, and walked around to the back.  The back had just as much clutter, if not more than the front.  A woman was sitting outside drinking a maté. I asked where we check in for Caballos de Luz, and she directed us further down the road that we didn't think continued on. 

I returned to the car, and shared the information.  Aimee was a bit apprehensive about continuing (memories of Nicaragua certainly in her head.).  The very faint road continued for a mile or two, winding around fields, trees, and hills.  Finally, it came to an area that opened up, that looked more like what we were expecting to see.  We were met by a dog, a cabin in front of us, and as we pulled in, Lucie, the owner came out and greeted us.  We apologized, as we were a couple hours late.  

Our Humble Lodging

Lucie welcomed us in, gave us the tour of our cabin, and said that they would have dinner ready for us in an hour or so.  While we waited, she suggested we follow a path down to the river.  She said normally, it;s a good place for a swim, but it was quite a bit cooler today than usual (it was about 68F) and probably too cold for a swim.

Kitchen, Dining and Living Room

Upstairs (Zac's) Bedroom

Aimee Pondering Horses

We took the advice and hiked the quarter of a mile or so down to the river and did some exploring.  It was very pretty, and gave us a chance to see some of nature up close. 

Orange Trees

River/Swimming Hole

River/Swimming Hole

Ryan Pondering the Gaucho Life

When we returned, dinner was about ready for us.  A large picnic table was situated in a cleared out area under a canopy of trees right outside our house.  Three plates were set out, and as we sat down, we were served salad, stuffed tomatoes that had various cooked veggies inside them, topped with cheese and green olives, and stuffed squash of some sort.  There was a large bottle on the table, which I assumed was water, but when I opened it and poured it in my glass, it was a lovely deep red.  Some local wine!!

Community Dining Area

Dinner is Served

We enjoyed our quiet dinner, and retired to our cabin for a very good night's sleep.  Right before climbing into bed however, we did find an unexpected visitor on the floor in the form of a tiny black scorpion.  We removed him from our abode, checked our sleeping quarters for any more, set up our mosquito net, and slept like babies.

Master Bedroom (First floor)

Farewell to Kenya

Our flight home was to depart at 1:35am Saturday morning, so we were effectively leaving Friday night.  Our day was spent mostly in transit from our camp back to Nairobi, allowing me to catch up on my blogging while on the road.  We made a couple stops along the way to use restrooms and grab coffee.  Coincidentally at both our first and second stop we ended up seeing the same large group from California that we saw on our way out to the Maasai Mara.  We talked a bit again with some of them at each of the stops. 

Blogging on the Road

Our 6 hour drive back to Nairobi went without major issue, with the exception that the main highway

Scenery in Small Towns we Drove Through

was blocked off for a period of time.  We had gotten advanced warning so Stephen found a detour on a very rough, narrow cliff-side dirt road.  For 45 minutes we bounced about with many other detoured vehicles driving alongside a steep drop to our right with only some bushes and tree-tops to keep us from plummeting if Stephen missed a turn.  Oncoming traffic (which was probably the heaviest this road has seen in years) was a challenge too, as oncoming vehicles could barely fit past us. 

After 45 minutes, the road ended at a gate to the Rift Valley Academy, which we had to enter to proceed.  This appeared to be a very large and upscale boarding academy that served elementary through high school children of both locals as well as expatriates.  We got an unplanned driving tour of the campus as we continued our long detour to the main highway.  Past the academy and on the other side of Kijabe, the

Small Town Scenery

name of the town we were in, we had to pass through a narrow carved out channel in the mountain, this was only wide enough for one car to pass through at a time, and even one car took tremendous skill to not hit the sides.  Stephen navigated it expertly, and we continued down the final stretch back to Nairobi, arriving at about 2:30.  We had booked a room at the Hilton Garden Inn by the Nairobi airport for the afternoon, even though we would need to head to the airport at 10:30pm, as we knew we would need a place to shower, re-pack/consolidate our bags, and maybe nap. 

Small Town Scenery

As we unpacked the van, we thanked Stephen deeply for the great safari and for everything he showed and taught us over the past 6 days.  As with everyone else that shared Kenya with us, we shared our little piece of Nashville with him and gave him a large box of Goo Goo Clusters to share with his family.  Each time I handed these out, it felt like an insignificant gift compared to what we had been provided, but it was our small way of giving them a piece of our home, Nashville.

Checking in at the Hilton Garden Inn

We quickly unloaded our bags at the hotel, and reached out to Thomas who planned on meeting up with us again for dinner. We asked for recommendations on restaurants and narrowed it down to two.  Carnivore Restaurant which had a very epic “all you can eat’ deal where various meats, some exotic, were roasted in the center of the restaurant on Maasai swords, and they continue providing you meat until you put your white flag down, or Ashaki which was a large and lively local hang out with a bar and Nyama Choma, the ubiquitous barbecued meat sold at markets, cooked at home, or ordered at a bar during a guys’ night out. While both sounded intriguing, Carnivore sounded much more touristy, and Ashaki felt much more like the Kenya experience we were looking for. 

Thomas drove us to the restaurant and got us a table, where we sat and ordered a few drinks.  Thomas doesn’t drink, which did work well with him as our designated driver, but I enjoyed several beers. He coordinated with the chef to get chicken nyama choma for Aimee, and lamb for he and I.  The meat is barbecued, and then brought table-side to be carved up by the chef onto a large plate, that is then shared.  As a side, a cornmeal and potato dish is provided (somewhat similar to ugali), but with some spinach as well giving it a green color.  As is typical with Kenyan food, it is all eaten with your hands, so before digging in, we went to one of the many sinks around the restaurant to wash up, and then stuffed ourselves with meet.

Nyama Choma Carved Tableside

We spent quite a bit of time here just talking with Thomas about everything we saw and how much we enjoyed Kenya.  The conversation meandered through Kenyan politics, international politics, American politics, and all sorts of other topics. Both Thomas and Aimee and I expressed how glad we were for the new friendship and said we would keep in touch. 

Final Dinner with our New Friend Thomas

Unfortunately all vacations come to an end. Thomas brought us back to our hotel and said he would return at 10:30 to take us to the airport. When we pulled into the airport, it was a heartfelt goodbye as he was truly a huge part of our Kenyan experience that we’ll never forget. 

As we walked away from his car with tons of luggage, we prepared ourselves for our upcoming three flights (for a combined 21 hours in the air) and approximate 8 hours of airport time to get back home to Nashville, where we would be adding two more pins to the travel map.

Dancing With the Maasai

After a hectic 9 days, Thursday was a welcomed slow day to be customized as we desired.  We had the option to take a balloon ride in the morning, however, dangling several hundred feet in the air wasn’t something of interest to either of us.  So instead, we slept in a bit, and had a leisurely morning doing not much of anything around the resort. 

Monkeys at our Lodge

At 2:00 however, we had a tour scheduled of a Maasai village.  This was something we had been very interested in when we were planning but had some reservations on the nature of these types of activities.  While such experiences can be incredibly educational, we were somewhat hesitant for fear that the experience would be awkwardly exploitative.  There can be an odd feeling of being an obvious outsider coming into a rural village where naturally there is a difference in wealth by incredible multiples, jumping off of a bus where a bunch of people are told to do their dance for you, so you can buy a trinket and leave. If this was the case, we weren’t interested.  (A traveler I met many years ago on a safari in Namibia described the feeling of such a village visit elsewhere as feeling like “tapping on the windows” as if at a zoo trying to get an animal to do something for you.)

Fortunately, the research we found, indicated that this was generally not the case.  Instead, it is a way for the Maasai to teach others about their history and culture which is something they enjoy doing.  Furthermore, the fees to do this are an important part of the local economy and are what help sustain the locals so that they can continue to keep pace with the modernizing world around them.  Therefore, we scheduled the tour.

We met Stephen in the lobby, where he was accompanied by a Maasai man that I would guess was around 35.  He introduced himself as Simon  I had expected that we were getting into the van with Stephen and that we would then drive to the village, however, at the door of the lobby, Stephen bid us farewell.  I asked if he was not driving us and he said “No, you are walking to the village.”  Stephen remained back at the hotel, and we continued with Simon.

As we walked down the entry road that led to our resort, Simon stopped to show us a tall bush which I believe he referred to as an “orange plant”.  He said that the Maasai would boil the root of this plant and use it to soothe intestinal issues.  We continued walking for what was probably a half a mile or so down the dusty gravel road and then turned down a dirt road towards the Masai village.  Ahead of us we could see that there was a group of several young Maasai men all in their traditional clothing, awaiting our arrival. 

Maasai Welcoming Committee

When we got to the spot they were, Simon directed us to a large bush that was creating a little bit of shade.  He said, “I know it is hot for you, so you can stand here in the shade.”   He then told us that in this area, no one knows him as Simon, but they all know his name as Simary (Sigh-MAY-ree).  He then let us know that we could take pictures of anything we want to, and that they would teach us about Maasai life.  He said they were going to start with a traditional dance that is often done at the beginning of large events.  Nine men began to sing in something that is reminiscent of the Mongolian throat singing band “The Hu”.  The song was in a crisp 6/8 (for the musicians out there).  Some of the men sung a single unison low bass droning whole notes that emanated deeply from within their throats, with minor emphasis on each 1st and 4th beat.  A few of the men did more of a percussive sound of eighth notes that was more forced breath than tone, in a bit of a “Heh-hoo-hoo Hih-hoo-hoo.” Where I believe the “Hih” may have been inhaled.  Then the tenor overlaid lyrics that I’m assuming were in the Maa language.  From here the song was punctuated with a few high pitched battle-call “yiyiyiyi” and rhythmic blowing into a horn that I believe was an impala horn.  This provided a single pitch which they blew in 8^th note triplets towards the end of what would be comparable to a verse.

After performing this for a bit, they then grabbed our hands and brought us into the line to dance and sing with them.  I was next to one of the percussive singers, and he tried to teach me the part.  I struggled a bit to keep my dancing going along with the singing while also trying to figure out the pattern of the phonetics.  I kept getting close but not quite there.  He was a patient teacher though as I was attempting to learn during our spontaneous live performance.

After the dance, we then began the competition of jumping.  This is traditionally used to identify the strongest man in the village so that he can win the right to marry a wife.  As the rest of the men stand around, two men face off jumping as high as they can.  If I understood it correctly, it almost seemed like “scissor, paper rock”  where you do a couple small jumps together to get the rhythm, and then the third jump is the one that counts.  The Maasai performed the ritual for us, and then pointed to me and said “it is now your turn to compete.”

Maasai Jumping Contest

I tend to be both competitive and also very much try to immerse myself as much as possible in cultural experiences such as this.  So upon their invitation, I took off my hat and sunglasses off, and much to the surprise of the Maasai removed my shoes and socks and entered into the ring.  I competed against one, and they told me that I jumped higher.  I went back to the line of men feeling accomplished, but then was told I needed to compete against the next opponent. This happened two more times after which I received some congratulatory high fives from the other men. 

After my victorious competition, we all marched into the inner part of the village continuing to sing. Here we were met by some of the village women who joined us in dancing and singing.  The women introduced themselves to Aimee, and after we all finished dancing and singing, Simary told Aimee that the women liked her and said they’d like to keep her in the village.

Now that we were on the inside of the village enclosure, there were several mud huts with mud roofs.  On top of two of the huts were women working on the roofs. The one had a large pile of mud mixed with cow dung that she was using to seal the thatch that made up the roof.  Simay explained that rains will be coming, and they must finish the roof beforehand.  This was quite the dirty job, as her hands and arms were covered in the concoction up to her elbows as she grabbed handfuls of the mixture and spread it around the roof.

Inside the Village

Simary had us sit down and taught us about life in the village.  He told us if you have multiple wives it can get complicated and you must build each wife a house.  He said the man must go into each of the wives’ huts and satisfy them at night, and be careful that they are treated equally because jealousy between wives can become a big problem.  At the end of the explanation he summed up his lesson by saying “more wives, more problems.”

Simary Inside Hut (his leg is bent behind him)

He then gave us a tour inside one of the huts.  These were very similar to the ones we had seen earlier at the Bomas of Kenya.  As we walked in the door, there was a partially enclosed pen to the left for animals.  Inside the main hut however it was extremely dark.  Coming in from the bright sun, we could see nothing.  In the bedroom, he had us sit on the bed, which was a structure of reeds about 2 feet of the ground, just under 3 feet wide, and about 5 feet long.  To the left was some shelving, also made out of reeds, and opposite us was the children’s room (next to Simary in the picture).  In the center of the floor a few rocks were arranged, and this is where the fire would be built on cold evenings.

Hut Shelving

After the tour of the hut, Simary took as back out, and walked to the other side of the village.  Here he sat us down again in the shade, and he shared the history of the area and the tribe. After this they demonstrated how they make fire by taking a flat piece of wood with a round notch carved out of the edge and a long stick that is placed in the notch, and then twisting back and forth with the hands, pushing down hard.  The Maasai’s hands would start at the top as they rubbed their hands back and forth vigorously, until their hands slide to the bottom, then they’d quickly place their hands at the top and do it again.  It did not take long until smoke appeared.  Under the flat piece of wood they had a machete, so that once an ember formed and dropped onto it, they quickly brushed it into a pile of elephant dung.  They then began blowing on the dung which began smoking quite a bit.  In under two minutes start to finish, they had a flame.

This was the last part of the actual tour and we were then brought into a large fenced off area where several tables had been setup in a large square.  Each of the women had their souvenirs for sale.  Simary told us that we could grab whatever interested us, and then he we would meet in the middle of the square with us at the end to negotiate a price.  At each table the woman behind it would encourage us to look at specific items, and of course encourage us to buy them.  We eventually selected a few and met for the final negotiation.

Simary initially quoted us 13,000 shillings for all the items we had picked up (roughly $95). I had offered to remove one of the larger items, and offered 8,000 for the rest.  He countered with “I could do 12,500 for all of it”.  Then I made things complicated for him and pulled out my wallet and said “I only have 10,000 shillings, so will you take 10,000 for all?  He asked if I had more shillings at the hotel, which I said no.  (partially true…I did have some shillings but only enough to tip our waitress from the last 3 days, whom I had not tipped yet, and to tip the men that I knew would carry our bags for us the next day to the car.

Simary said he would need to discuss it with everyone else.  He pulled together a couple Maasai men, and went through each item, calling to the woman at the table.  It appeared he was having to figure out how much each person would get paid for the lesser amount.  Finally he came back and said it was good.

At this point, I wanted to present him a gift.  I thanked him for teaching us about the rich historical culture of the Maasai people.  I said my gift did not have deep historical culture, but was something visitors to Nashville Tennessee buy as souvenirs.  I told him unlike the Maasai cow’s blood that makes them big and strong, my gift will make you lazy and fat.  Nonetheless, I handed over a large box of GooGoo Clusters for them to pass around and enjoy in the village.  

A Gift of Goo from Nashville

After this we collected our purchases and were escorted back to the resort by both Simary and another of the Maasai men.  On the way back he congratulated me again for my strong jumping. 

Maasai Escort Back to our Camp

As we walked back we passed a massive herd of hundreds of cows that stretched as far as the eyes could see.

Cows for Days

When we arrived back Stephen was awaiting us, and asked what we wished to do now.  We had said we would like to do our last game drive.  This would be a short one as the National Park closed in 2.5 hours. 

As soon as we entered into the park, there seemed to be a nervous buzz among the wildlife.  There were quite a few animals right near the entrance and many seemed to be standing at attention.  Stephen heard on his two-way radio that something had happened at the first intersection of trails, and that there may have been a recent kill.  We headed in that direction, but before we got there, we saw a couple hyenas.  We stopped to take a look (there were several other trucks around also, which is always an indication something of interest is near). As we looked at the two hyenas we heard some braying somewhat similar to a donkey, and saw a third hyena running around making the noise.  He ran towards us and crossed the road right in front of us.  He was carrying the bloody severed head of some small antelope in his mouth.  There was a fourth hyena nearby, and the one with the head in its mouth pranced towards it proudly braying the whole way.  As we sat there, the hyena ran around continuing to call attention to himself to every animal that would pay attention to show off the head.

A Very Proud Hyena

We asked Stephen if the hyena would have killed whatever it was he was carrying, and Stephen said probably not.  They are not good hunters they usually just scavenge other kills.

At this point we noticed there were two lions further up the road, and it appeared one was eating something it had killed. The hyena with the severed head in its mouth was prancing closer and closer to the lion.  It seemed to have not realized the lion was there.  At one point though when it was still 100-200 feet away it stopped, apparently having caught site of the lion.  While the hyena did stop in its tracks, it seemed to suddenly become once again awash in bravado, as it again started prancing, this time towards the lion proudly showing off the head in its mouth.  However, the closer it got to the lion, rational sense seemed to take over and he veered off in another direction.

We continued to sit and watch the lion.  We still could not see what was in the grass that it was eating,

but it seemed to be enjoying the last few bites and relaxing while letting it digest a bit.  While the hyena with the head had disappeared somewhere off in the distance, the other hyenas were still slinking about the area.  The lion closest to us (the one that had been eating) seemed to have been annoyed by the first hyena’s antics and saw the other ones in the distance on the other side of the road we were on and decided to get up and deal with the situation.  The lion got up and began walking towards the road. It seemed not to care at all that there were over a dozen safari vehicles filled with humans watching it.  Instead his sights were trained directly on the hyena in the distance.  It trotted across the road and into the taller grass where it crouched down a bit as it stalked the hyena hurriedly. He got closer and closer but did not get within 50 feet.  At one point the hyena sensed something behind it, and began galloping into the distance.  At this point the lion decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and gave up the chase.

After staying in this area for about 30 minutes and watching all the interactions between the two lions, four hyenas, and hundreds of other animals keeping a wide berth around the lions, we decided to venture deeper into the Mara.  There was not much else in terms of wild game that we saw over the next hour, just a few animals here and there, and a few interesting birds.  A few miles in the distance, we could see rain coming down on sections of the Mara.  In our section the air and the ground were dry, but the sky was overcast, and the air was filled with the smell of cool rain which had stirred up and mixed with the sweet smell of some of the flora from the Mara.  The smell was fantastically refreshing.  I stuck my head out of the safari van for most of the rest of the trip just to inhale as much of the scent as possible.  I did a quick google search to see if I could find an incense that could fill my house with the smell of “Maasai Mara in the Rain”.  I couldn’t find it.  If anyone ever comes across it, it is a fantastic smell and I recommend you buy a lifetime supply.

Maasai Mara in the Rain

We exited the park only a few minutes before the 6:30 closure.  We headed back to our lodge, cleaned up, went to enjoy our last dinner on safari, and had a few cocktails to celebrate as well.  While the lodge had been fairly quiet and empty previously, today a large group of around 20 Canadians as well as a separate group of about 10 French had now checked in, so the restaurant was very full.  With the much larger crowd, a group of the Maasai had been arranged to come in and do their singing, dancing, and jumping for the enjoyment of all of us at dinner. They also came by each of our tables and greeted us.  We didn’t recognize any from our earlier outing, but I was sure to brag to them that I had won the jumping contest in the village. 

Maasai at Dinner

After relaxing for quite some time and bidding farewell to our waitress from the last few days, we handed her a box of Goo Goo Clusters as a thank you, and we retired to our room.