Five Pula, Please Africa Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 24, 2015September 1, 2015 "I would really like you to taste my stew." This from a heavy-set Botswanan woman who was sitting at a little table selling some homemade goods in front of the grocery store. "It is made from waterlilies."I had just bought four soft-ball size balls of fried dough from her to do a little tasting of a homemade local dish and share among all of us in the truck as we drove from the Okavango Delta north to the Caprivi strip near the Angolan Border. I paid for these massive doughnuts with some money that was sent to us by a dear friend of my mother who had visited this area over twenty years ago. When I tried to give our Botswanan friend the 5 pula bill, she looked a little confused and asked "Where did you get this?" Turns out this currency has been taken out of circulation years ago and is not used anymore. But it did get passed around to everyone standing nearby who were quite amused to see it and generated a lively conversation. And, apparently, the goodwill also bought us a taste of waterlily stew. The stew itself did not look particularly appetizing. The brown-grey stringy stuff in the pot looked like it might be a recipe for a dose of antibiotics and some quality time in the bathroom.But the prospect of a little gut distress rarely stops me when the alternative is offending someone offering a gift. So I stuck my hand out and she carefully spooned a golfball sized glob in my hand. I took a healthy pinch - delicious. Mom is watching at my side. She won't touch sushi and likes her meat well-done because she's so worried about food sickness. I know what she's thinking when she sees me take it and
Don’t Camp Under the Sausage Tree – and other survival tips Africa Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 19, 2015September 1, 2015 Spending three days with our mokoro guides was an incredible way to learn about the local plants and how the local people live with the teeming life in the Okavongo Delta at their backdoor. Many people were forced to leave the islands where we camped and move to higher ground due to climate change causing more flooding, but they still fish and travel these waters daily. They made wonderful teachers, and I learned enough to have a fighting chance should I ever be stranded on an island in the middle of the great Okavongo Delta. Demonstration on how to drink clean water through a waterlily stemDon't Camp Under the Sausage Tree. Sandy, one of our mokoro pollers during our two days bush camping in the Okavango Delta is holding a footlong seed pod from the tree behind us, aptly called a sausage tree. The "don't camp under this tree" seems obvious when we feel the solid weight of that pod - it would punch through any tent top. The pod looks like an enormous narrow sweet potato. The tree trunk is used to make a very good mokoro. The inside of these pods are spongy and can be soaked and used for washing. In traditional medicine, women who aren't producing enough milk will have their breasts cut and juice from the pod put into the cuts and blood from her breasts put into the pods. This is the traditional remedy. I think if nothing else the breast would weep for mercy.Sausage tree podsAvoid open water while in the mokoro if at all possibleAs I was getting slapped in the face by reeds and plants scooting along through the thick plants in our little Mokoro, I wondered why we were in the reeds instead of the perfectly open reed-free water nearby. We learned after
Okavango Delta Africa Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 18, 2015September 1, 2015 I turned on my flashlight and poked my head out of the tent. Peered left - all clear. Peered right. All clear. So I stepped outside and cautiously turned the headlamp around the back-side of the tent. Clear there, too. Despite the snorty grunts all around us throughout the night, there is not a grazing hippo or wandering elephant in sight. The middle-of-the-night constitutional got a lot more interesting when we headed out for two nights of bush camping on the Okavango Delta in Botswana.We left the Kalahari and headed north - a long drive - for a fishing camp on the Okavango Delta panhandle. The only real excitement was getting stuck in the deep white sand on the way into camp to the bemusement of a truck load of entertained Botswanans who turned up in a huge truck to pull us out. Apparently, this happens all the time.The next morning we packed up and took a motorboat to meet our Mokoros and head into the reed-filled waters of the Okavango delta. The Delta is a geological anomaly ... a huge wetland in northwest Botswana where the Okavango river flows down from Angola and ends spread across a large land-locked swath of arid land looking like a hand print slapped across the desert. In the wet season the water is inches to several feet deep. In the dry season the water recedes, and the islands that are scattered all though the northern panhandle of the delta grow larger. PapyrusThe glamorous wildlife watching of the Delta is to the east of us in Moremi game preserve - a dry area where wildlife is concentrated and tourists spend thousands of dollars a night for luxury safaris into exclusive lodges. We are choosing to visit the Delta differently, and have come to the Panhandle and
Pink Jersey Bike Travel - Italy Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 18, 2014September 3, 2015 Massed at the starting line for Stage 9 with team cars lined up to followI held my prime ground as the crowd filled in around me.I had biked to Lugo - the start of the 9th stage of the Giro d'Italia. I had a great view of the cyclists coming in and the mass for the start. The team cars with bikes on the top. And the endless entertainment of the crowd who had turned out to support their favorites.Pink - the color of the leading jersey - was the color of the day. Kids were dressed head to toe in giro pink swag. The dogs wore pink t-shirts. The stores had pink balloons and decorations. And thousands of people turned out to send off the cyclists on the biggest race of the year in this cycling-mad country.Ivan Basso - famous pro cyclist from Italy is racing here and drew big cheers, as did other Italian favorites. And Cadel Williams - the current leader wearing the coveted pink jersey drew cheers and applause as he rode through the crowds pressed on either side of narrow corridor cyclists passed through on the way to the start.Giro FanThey love their cyclists in Italy. I've seen bike trails with plaques dedicated to their racing champions. Every weekend I see pelotons of cyclists on beautiful road bikes in bright kits blasting around in focused pacelines. Many cyclists give a hearty Ciou as they fly by like the hare passing the tortoise as I plod along on my touring bike loaded down with panniers and give them a friendly Ciou and a wave back.The country around Brisighella is made for the beautiful light carbon climbing machines that zip up the hills. While I can get up them on my touring bike, it's a lot of
Off the Beaten Path Bike Travel - Italy Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 18, 2014September 3, 2015 In front of the home of the first Ceramic's Artist Pirota"How did you hear about Brisighella"?Claudio has asked me this after taking me to his farm where he produces wines - we are tasting some of the wine under his label.I've been asked this several times since rolling into town yesterday. I think being American surprises people - they don't get Americans here very often. There are not very many visitors here ... period.And this is a beautiful town that would love to have the attention and publicity - and tourist income - of Tuscany. It actually looks a lot like Tuscany and is only 20km east of the boundary, and has the rolling hills and vineyards and olive groves and medieval towns. But they also have fields of peaches and apricots and kiwis. It has castles and history. It has national parks with hiking and mountain biking and rolling roads that are an athlete's dream. I'm in one of the true culinary centers of the world. Incredible food, in a town with the slow pace of generations, still waiting to be discovered and wondering why the rest of the world doesn't know about them.Modern ceramic decorating the side of a buildingBut I'm selfishly glad to have this beautiful place without the herds. In fact I like this town so much I changed all my plans and am staying put till I have to get to Rome to catch my flight.Today the very friendly hotel arranged for a local wine grape grower to pick me up and take me to his farm. Claudio drove me to a beautiful farm that was also the home of the first ceramics artist in the area - and the ceramics of nearby Faenza are world famous. The remnants of the home of Pirota still
Interactions Bike Travel - Italy Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 17, 2014September 3, 2015 Biding Time in RavennaThe older man sitting next to me at dinner reached over and took my fork. He speared ravioli off his plate and handed it to me with a big grin. I was seated at a long table next to a very sweet older couple who were here in Ravenna for dinner – they owned a pensione on the lido (beach) nearby. We had managed some basic communication, and I was pondering the menu. As usual I couldn’t make up my mind – I asked them what they were having and if they liked it.So he pointed to the menu what he had ordered and gave me a taste. The wife took the fork and gave me a taste of her calamari with asparagus on pasta, too. Both delicious. And made more special than the taste was the kindness of these two people who embraced a stranger.It’s encounters like these that make travel special. More than any art or sites or epic bike rides. It’s connecting with people along the way that I remember the most. And for whatever reason, the last few days in Ravenna – and now in the small medieval town of Brisighella - I’m finding these experiences are just coming one after another. My second night in Ravenna the older man next to me at dinner was shocked I was cycling solo through Italy. He was telling all the waiters and people around “She’s cycling alone through Italy” very loudly and trying to ask me questions in rapid-fire Italian I had no way of understanding. It was a bit embarrassing, until he tried to feed me his potatoes because when saw what I ordered for dinner he decided I wasn’t eating enough. And when he saw my Brazino (bass cooked in salt – incredibly
Ravenna Bike Travel - Italy Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 14, 2014December 26, 2020 I reluctantly listed the days left between now and when I fly out on a sheet of hotel stationary. Time to figure out how to get back to Rome and make my flight. Suddenly there is more to do than I can possibly fit in. I have to pick. Of course there are no bad choices. The business of figuring out how to get myself back to Rome took the better part of the afternoon. In between emails, I would head out and spend a couple of hours with my head craned back taking in Ravenna’s incredible 5th century mosaics that light up the churches in the city. Section of Mosaic in Basilica d'Sant Apollinare, Ravenna This early Christian art is all about light. The faces on familiar saints and icons are somehow more compelling and human than the dark medieval paintings, even though they are made of stone. This is the incredible time in history where the Greeks and the Romans and Byzantium collide … and they met here in Ravenna. Yet the city Ravenna wears this legacy very casually – the mosaics are hidden in churches that are plain brick on the outside tucked into a very business-like and calm city. I confess I don't find the city itself very compelling, though I'm glad to be here to see what they offer to the world no other city can match. Near the end of a long trip my thoughts always drift to home. Today I read the local news for the first time in a month. I scanned facebook for news. It occurred to me to check my bank account to make sure the bills were paid. I look on all the lost pet sites for the first time in weeks just in case – by some miracle – my lost dog turned up
Wetlands and beautiful riding Bike Travel - Italy Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 14, 2014September 3, 2015 The ride south from Comacchio - a canal town that sits on the edge of a large, brackish lagoon - to Ravenna was relatively easy. Cycling south around the edge of the lagoon and across cyclepaths built on dikes between the lagoons and canals was a great way to see the wildlife up close. There were remnants of abondoned and flooded out brick buildings that the brackish water had reclaimed over the centuries standing partially submerged in the mud. And it was full of birds - feeding on fish and water creatures and insects, - including a huge flock of resident flamingos.Sadly the flamingos did not cooperate to come close enough to pose, but here are some other photos of this gorgeous area.Comacchio, Italy canalsFishing shacks with large nets lined the lagoonRiding several miles across a narrow dike between a canal and the lagoon made for slow going and required dodging thistles and eating a few bugs but was incredibly beautiful
Photos: Ferrara Palio Ancient Flags Competition Bike Travel - Italy Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 13, 2014September 3, 2015 Mamma Mia!This outburst came from the San Luca supporter sporting a green and red scarf standing beside me as he watch the team from San Giacomo throw their flags 20 feet in the air and flawless catch and move in a complex dance. He - and everyone in the San Luca section knew their contrade had just lost the ancient flag throwing competition of Ferrara's Palio.The San Giacomo team knew they had rocked it and jumped and did the equivalent of the superbowl football spike on the way out of the Piazza. The judges frowned ... they had already chastised a contrada cheering section for being too contentious in cheering on their house. The Ferrara Palio Ancient Flag Competition brought hundreds of young people together in their colorful medieval costumes to play music and compete - like they done for hundreds of years. I ended up standing among the red and green clad San Luca Contrada. They were gracious enough to tolerate the outsider, though I made sure to clap extra loud for their teams. All eight contrada's organized themselves into sections surrounding the piazza and cheered on their neighborhood and hung colorful banners and wore the colors of their house.And the competition is fierce. When a flag is dropped the whole crowd gasps. When a team does well, or when they falter, everyone cheers to acknowledge their good job or to support them for trying. And when a contrada's team enters the piazza to perform, their friends and neighbors cheer loudly and support their team.(The previous post "Serendipity" explains the Palio). Here are some photos from that night ... I have a new appreciate for sports photographers after trying to get some good photos at night, with fast movement while dodging the big hair of the woman in front
Traditions Bike Travel - Italy Travel Writing and Photos by Leigh Pate - May 12, 2014September 3, 2015 Unloading mesh bags of musselsThe fishermen looked tired. Of course they had probably been up most of the night and were still unloading their catch mid-morning.I’m on a small boardwalk that lines the canal leading to the Adriatic in Porto Garibaldi - a town on the Adriatic coast. I’m spending my day exploring the lido’s (beaches) and up the coast from Comacchio. I’m pretty sure I've already happened upon the most interesting thing I’ll see all day and I’m only 5 km into my route. One boat has mussels in large mesh bags. They are being loaded onto a conveyor belt to get them off the boat and onto the dock and then unloaded - stacked neatly like cord wood – onto wooden pallets. These mussels were most likely sold on the dock at auction just after dawn when the boat rolled in from a night of fishing. They will go into a refrigerated truck to be shipped out to grace pastas around Italy.Another boat has fish where the catch is being packed down in ice onto pallets in Styrofoam containers. Refrigerated trucks are waiting to haul the fish away.Another had what looks like sardines.Packing fishA woman on a small boat is direct selling to customers. She uses a hand scale that looks like it could be from the last century to demonstrate the weight of the fish. Then she guts each fish and weighs it again. I think the couple agrees to pay for the price without guts along with other seafood they carry out.I saw exactly what went into last night's dinner being unloaded onto those docks. Mostly bottom feeding sea life from the fertile salt marshes – heads, bones and all. But combined they made for a wonderful Zuppe de Pesche (Cioppino).It’s a market that’s been happening for centuries.