Kilimanjaro Adventure

The Ngorongoro Crater is truly the Garden of Eden. We drove to the top of the enormous caldera, beheld its majesty and then descended into a utopia of green, teeming with animals, including lion, but no leopard. It was astounding to watch these creatures live out their lives naturally and in freedom. Human intervention is at a minimum. Words cannot express how wonderful it truly is here. Behold these images. And now we have arrived back at the Lake Manyara airstrip for the 25 hour marathon journey home. Home .... how good that sounds. It's been an adventure of a lifetime, but both of us yearn to be home with our family and friends. How good that will be !!

The flights home were, for the most part, routine and OK. We slept for a bit, endured an hour's delay in Amsterdam, ate lots of airline food and finally got home. The long wait at the luggage carousel nearly did me in: my feet and knees were killing me. Then, through the doors to see Lou, Mom, Marlene and Tristan waiting for us. It was a happy reunion indeed ! There were jumbled words of welcome and "glad to be home" and tears and hugs and hearty congratulations. I couldn't believe we were home ! After a short visit, I said an emotional "so long" to Jeff, the best of brothers and my incredible travel companion, and we piled into Lou's car for the short drive home. A glass of champagne for welcome and then Lou took Mom home. I sat in my house, bewildered. Did it actually happen? Was it a dream? I didn't know what I felt, I didn't know how I should feel. Surreal. Dazed. Proud. And bone weary. I'll need time to make sense of all this. But fo...

One of my pet peeves is incorrect word usage. I realize that this surprises no one who knows me or my former English teacher career. But, as with many things, I can't shake off the peeve even though my time in the classroom is well in my rear-view mirror. Ask me about the word "historic". In this part of Canada, "historic" simply means "old." If you happen to live in an old neighbourhood of most Southern Ontario towns, you would probably refer to it as "historic", as in the "Historic Main Street" of Newmarket. Or, if you happen to own a vintage car, one that is more than, say, 25 years old, you might qualify for a license plate that sports the word "historic" on it. That one always gets my goat. Unless the love child of JFK and Marilyn Monroe was conceived on the back seat, or the plans for the D-Day invasion were finalized on a nice Sunday afternoon drive, sorry, your car is not "historic" .... it's merely...