Madagascar Part 3: A Country of Contrasts — Paradise Found on Nosy Komba

Life Below the Surface

One morning our private boat whisked us to the waters around Nosy Iranja, where we donned our snorkles.

It was a thrill to snorkel alongside enormous green and hawksbill turtles.

photos from thegef.org and wcs.org

Some were estimated to be more than 50 years old—although underwater they moved with far more grace than we do.

Every so often, one would slowly rise to the surface for a breath before gliding effortlessly back into the blue.

The coral reefs were alive with colorful tropical fish. For a couple of hours, the only sounds were our breathing through snorkels and the gentle lapping of the waves.

photos from blueventures.org and Jean-Sebastien Phillippe

Instagram Paradise

That afternoon we visited the spectacular sandbar connecting Nosy Iranja Be and Nosy Iranja Kely. The 1.2-mile ribbon of brilliant white sand emerges at low tide, surrounded by impossibly blue water.

Naturally, we weren’t the only ones who recognized the photographic possibilities.

Dozens of aspiring Instagram stars posed dramatically while drones buzzed overhead.

Even better, two entrepreneurial local photographers had set up shop on the sandbar.

Need someone to adjust your bikini?

Find your best angle?

Suggest a more photogenic pose?

They had you covered.

Apparently even a sandbar that disappears twice a day can support a thriving small business.

We also enjoyed one of the most memorable lunches of the trip—a private picnic on this tiny island beneath the shade of a massive tree.

jan and ed at private lunch from the back

Some lunches are difficult to beat.

This was one of them.

Even More Malagasy Art

On Nosy Iranja, we discovered that even the crabs are artists.

Each night, tiny sand crabs emerge and create elaborate textures and geometric patterns across the beach. By morning, Ed was happily photographing their work as if he’d stumbled upon Madagascar’s newest contemporary artists.

Readers of our previous posts know that Malagasy art has become something of an obsession for us, so naturally these little masterpieces fit right in.

If only we could figure out how to get one home without putting a beach—and its artist—in our suitcase.

Getting There Is Half the Adventure

Of course, paradise rarely comes easily.

Getting to Nosy Komba turned into its own adventure.

Our first flight from Tana to Nosy Be, on the notoriously unpredictable Madagascar Airlines, was canceled, and we were rebooked on a later flight.

We learned that locals call the airline “Air Maybe.”

Unfortunately, the resort boat from Nosy Be to Nosy Komba only operated during daylight hours.

Translation:

No boat.

No island.

No paradise.

Instead, we spent the night on the main island of Nosy Be.

An Unexpected Slice of Italy

Our unexpected overnight stay landed us at the sprawling Palm Beach Resort, where within minutes we wondered whether we’d accidentally flown to the Italian Riviera. Hundreds of Italian vacationers—many honeymooners—filled the resort.

We soon learned why: direct charter flights arrive from Italy carrying vacationers for week-long all-inclusive stays. Who knew Madagascar had such a strong Italian connection?

Dinner featured a buffet and a live band enthusiastically performing classics like “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman,” ABBA favorites, and Simon & Garfunkel hits.

It was perfectly pleasant.

It also could have been almost anywhere in the world.

And we’d come to Madagascar to be somewhere that couldn’t be anywhere else.

The next morning our driver delivered us to the dock, where a private boat carried us across sparkling water to Nosy Komba.

Within minutes, we knew we’d made the right choice.

One Last Madagascar Surprise

Madagascar had surprised us one last time—with an island paradise that felt a world away from the country we had spent the previous two weeks exploring.

When we left Tsara Komba, some of the staff lined the shore and waved enthusiastically—very White Lotus—as our boat pulled away.

It was a fitting end to a country of extraordinary contrasts.

Over two weeks, we’d hiked through rainforests listening to the haunting calls of indri, watched ring-tailed lemurs leap through the trees, wandered among bizarre octopus trees and thousand-year-old baobabs, and snorkeled with sea turtles in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean.

We’d also traveled through villages where daily life reminded us that Madagascar is one of the poorest countries in the world. The roads were rough, the infrastructure unpredictable, and getting from one place to another was often an adventure in itself.

Yet everywhere we went, we found remarkable landscapes, wildlife found nowhere else on Earth, and people who welcomed us warmly.

Madagascar wasn’t always an easy place to travel.

But perhaps that’s part of what made it so memorable.

Sometimes the best journeys are the ones that surprise you, challenge you, make you laugh—and then, just when you think you’ve seen it all, leave you with your toes in the sand, your eyes looking out at sea, and absolutely nowhere else to be.

Madagascar Part 2: More Than Lemurs

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Jan and Ed at Spiny Forest in South Madagascar

We came to Madagascar expecting extraordinary wildlife as we described in our previous post.

We didn’t expect to spend just as much time staring at the plants.

Everywhere we looked, something seemed to belong on another planet.

Trees resembled octopuses.
Succulents looked like sculptures.
Thousand-year-old baobabs towered over the landscape.

Madagascar isn’t just home to unusual animals.

It may be the strangest botanical garden on Earth.

Visiting the Spiny Forest

A scheduled charter carried us to southern Madagascar and the famous Spiny Forest, one of the strangest ecosystems on Earth. The region receives less than 500 mm of rain each year, so every plant has evolved remarkable strategies for conserving water.

Jan next to charter plane flying to Mandare River Camp in Southern Madagascar.

The aptly named Octopus Tree looked as though a giant octopus had frozen in place, its spiny arms reaching in every direction.

Octopus Tree in Spiny Forest of Madagascar.

Its thick branches twist in every direction while sharp spines discourage anything from taking a bite. Botanists call it Didierea madagascariensis, but “Octopus Tree” seemed much more appropriate.

They looked hostile.

Very hostile.

Covered in sharp spines and generally projecting a strong “keep away” message.

Apparently the local zebus (cows) didn’t get the memo.

They happily eat them.

Go figure.

Alluaudia

The Alluaudia looked even stranger.

Local tracker (with traditional dress) in the Spiny Forest of Madagascar.

Tall, spiny stems stretched skyward like something from another planet.

If someone had told us we were walking through a botanical garden on Mars, we might have believed them.

Fortunately, this ring-tailed lemur hadn’t received the “keep away” memo either. He thought the leaves were delicious!

Other lemurs like them as well:

Bark Beckons

Most people go to Madagascar to photograph lemurs.

Ed went for the bark.

Ed photographing bark of tree in Spiny Forest of Madagascar.

He became completely captivated by the peeling, twisting, and brilliantly colored trunks of the Spiny Forest. Every few minutes we’d stop for “just one more bark photo.”

Before long, our guide caught on and began excitedly pointing out trees with particularly photogenic bark.

Bark with local tracker behind it in Madagascar Spiny Forest.

We may have been the only visitors ever to ask, “Do you know where we can find more bark?”

Fortunately, our guide took the question seriously.

Trees Older Than Countries

Madagascar is home to six of the world’s eight baobab species.

Some are more than 1,000 years old.

One we visited was already centuries old before Columbus sailed to America.

Standing beneath it, a human lifetime feels wonderfully brief.

Jan and Ed doing their pose at the base of huge baobab tree.

Capturing the tree in a single photo was another challenge altogether. Our guide solved the problem by lying flat on his back and using the iPhone’s Panorama mode vertically. Until then, we had assumed Panorama was only for sweeping landscapes. Turns out, it’s just as handy for photographing trees that seem to touch the sky.

The baobabs are especially dramatic at sunset. We were captivated by the silhouettes gracing the sky as it turned from blue to orange and then black.

Unexpected Art in Tana

Traveling to farflung locations around the country requires staying in the capital – Antananarivo (Tana for short, since no one can pronounce the name) – in between jaunts, as each transition requires ample time to accommodate delays and other travel difficulties.

We expected comfortable hotels between expeditions.

We didn’t expect museums.

One of our home bases was the Nosy Manga Hotel. From the outside, it’s a fairly nondescript building near the airport. Inside, however, we discovered a remarkable collection of Malagasy art (and a rooftop bar, which certainly didn’t hurt). Who knew?

We wandered from floor to floor admiring the paintings and sculptures, all assembled by the hotel’s owner, who clearly has both a discerning eye and a serious collecting habit.

Art in halls of Nosy Manga hotel in Tana

Ed became especially captivated by the work of an artist who goes by Temandrota, whose birth name, Randriahasandratra Razafimandimby, convinced us to stick with “Temandrota.”

Naturally, our itinerary took an unexpected turn. We were now on an art safari.

A quick Google search revealed that Temandrota’s work is usually exhibited in London, but we discovered one gallery in Antananarivo—Foundation H—that features his art. We immediately enlisted our long-suffering driver, who patiently threaded his way through Tana’s legendary traffic on what had become an urgent artistic mission.

We arrived…

The gallery was closed.

Apparently even determined art lovers can’t outsmart Malagasy business hours.

So Temandrota remains on our “someday” list. We’ll either have to return to Madagascar or schedule a stop in London. After all, every good trip deserves an excuse for another one.

The Hard Part

As enchanted as we were by Madagascar’s landscapes and art, another reality was impossible to ignore.

Madagascar consistently ranks among the world’s poorest countries.

Everywhere we traveled, evidence of poverty was visible.

We saw children working in fields.

Mom and three kids working in agave field in Madagascar.

Families working in Agave field in Madgascar.

Women washing clothes in muddy rivers.

Men hauling water from rivers in ox carts along dusty roads.

And hundreds gathering at a food distribution site set up by an international charity.

Food distribution by global charity in Madagascar

Yet everywhere we went, children ran to the road waving, singing, laughing, and calling greetings.

Their joy was contagious.

Their circumstances were heartbreaking.

We often found ourselves wishing there was more we could do.

Colonialism’s Long Shadow

Many of today’s challenges have deep roots in Madagascar’s colonial past. Beginning with French colonial rule in 1895, vast areas of forest were cleared to supply timber and agricultural products for export to Europe.

Unfortunately, deforestation continues today. In southern Madagascar we drove past enormous agave plantations stretching to the horizon.

More than 60,000 hectares were devoted to growing agave for fiber used in rope and other products.

The economics were sobering.

Families earn only a few dollars a day harvesting the plants.

The husband cuts the agave. The wife stacks the leaves. The children help collect them.

The land produces little food for local communities and often becomes depleted after years of cultivation.

It’s a difficult cycle to break.

Hope for Madagascar

Fortunately, there are people working hard to protect Madagascar’s future.

Conservation organizations are replanting forests, studying wildlife, protecting endangered species, and educating the next generation about the island’s remarkable biodiversity.

Tourism helps fund many of these efforts while creating jobs for local communities.

jeep for exploring local areas near Mandare River camp in Madagascar

On our drives, we were given indigenous seed pods to throw out from our jeep to repopulate the native plants in the forest.

It’s impossible not to wonder what Madagascar might look like today if these conservation efforts had begun centuries ago.

But it’s equally inspiring to see what dedicated people are accomplishing now.

We came looking for lemurs.

We left talking about octopus trees, thousand-year-old baobabs, remarkable artists, resilient people, and a country unlike anywhere else we’ve ever visited.

Madagascar isn’t just an island of unusual animals.

It’s one of the most fascinating places we’ve ever explored.

Next stop: the idyllic islands of Nosy Be, where Madagascar had one more surprise waiting for us. Stay tuned.

Madagascar, Part 1: Lemme See the Lemurs!

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Madagascar isn’t one destination—it’s many. Over the next few posts, we’ll take you from the spiny forests of the south to the rainforests of the east, ending on the idyllic islands of the north. But first…the lemurs.

If Madagascar has celebrities, they’re lemurs.

A ring-tailed lemur peering up from leaf litter and low ground plants

We came hoping to see a few.

We left having seen more species than we could remember, hiked through forests chasing them, and developed a newfound appreciation for trackers who can somehow spot a furry animal perched 100 feet above us in the trees.

A brown lemur barely visible high in the trees, screened by branches and leaves

Madagascar is home to more than 100 species of lemurs, nearly all found nowhere else on Earth. During two unforgettable weeks, we met an astonishing variety—each with its own personality, quirks, and remarkable survival skills.

Lots and Lots of Lemurs

Every species seemed to have its own personality.

Ring-tailed Lemurs

The Ring-tailed Lemurs have tails with 14 black rings. (Once in a while, there’s one with only 13 rings, but he’s an anomaly.)

Those spectacular tails aren’t just for show. They use them to communicate.

“Let’s move.”
“Back off.”
“Something’s not right.”

In other words, they invented a messaging system long before humans.

Ed could have spent the entire day photographing his new friends.

Ed photographing ring-tailed lemurs with a telephoto lens in the forest

One chilly morning we found them piled together in what looked like one giant family hug. We were more than a little jealous.

Ring-tailed lemurs huddled tightly together against a tree trunk

Sifakas

The white and golden sifakas are affectionately known as “Dancing Lemurs.”

A white sifaka with a dark cap, clinging to a spiny octopus tree

A golden sifaka clinging upright to a tree trunk in the rainforest

The nickname makes perfect sense once you see them move.

Unlike most animals, sifakas maintain an upright posture and hop sideways across branches using their powerful hind legs.

Imagine a ballet dancer, a kangaroo, and a toddler on a sugar high. That’s a sifaka. This one even performed with a common brown lemur.

Indris

And then there was the Indri, the largest living lemur.

Since they stayed high in the canopy—and the lighting wasn’t exactly cooperative—we never captured the photos or video we wanted. So we’re including this portrait from a research site.

An indri, black and white with pale green eyes, sitting among leaves

Source: www.thegreatprojects.com

The Indri has one of the most unforgettable voices in the animal kingdom. Fortunately, we did capture their sound. Click below and imagine standing in the rainforest when this suddenly echoes through the trees.

Not Exactly a Walk in the Park

Finding lemurs isn’t always easy.

National parks may have trails, but the lemurs generally prefer locations nowhere near those trails.

Naturally.

The trackers would disappear into the forest while Ed and I waited.

A few minutes later we’d hear a whistle or see a hand signal.

One of our trackers with a walking stick, standing in dense forest.

That was our cue to follow.

The trackers made it look effortless.

Five minutes later, we were sweating. We found ourselves ducking under branches, stepping over roots, and scrambling through dense vegetation while attempting to maintain some degree of dignity.

Stone steps built into a steep forest trail, crossed by tree roots

Dense rainforest with tree ferns and tangled undergrowth

The lemurs, meanwhile, effortlessly bounded through the treetops overhead.

Show-offs.

Lemur Island

We also visited Lemur Island, a sanctuary for rescued lemurs that had previously been kept as pets or trafficked. Although the project has a conservation component, the experience is clearly designed with tourists in mind. Some visitors hand-feed the animals, something we chose to skip. After tracking lemurs through the rainforest, seeing them in the wild felt far more rewarding than posing for close-up photos.

Things That Shine in the Night

Some of our most memorable wildlife encounters happened after dark.

Night walks revealed an entirely different cast of characters, including the tiny mouse lemurs.

… and countless other nocturnal creatures that seemed perfectly happy to let us stumble around in the dark.

A chameleon gripping a pale branch at night, lit against the dar

We also learned that scientists are still discovering new species of mouse lemurs. In fact, researchers from Duke University identified a new species as recently as 2020.

Imagine discovering a new primate species in the 21st century.

Madagascar continues to surprise scientists—and visitors.

Why Madagascar Is So Special

Madagascar broke away from mainland Africa about 160 million years ago.

It’s as if evolution got stranded on an island and decided to experiment.

More than 90% of the island’s wildlife exists nowhere else on Earth.

And as much as we loved the lemurs, they turned out to be only the beginning. Madagascar’s bizarre plants, towering baobabs, colorful chameleons, and welcoming people deserve stories of their own.

Stay tuned.

Hanging with the Vulture Lady

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After our luxurious “glamping” experience, Ed, John, Grace, and I traded canvas tents and gourmet meals for our next adventure: tracking vultures.

Yes, vultures.

Not exactly the animal most people put at the top of their African safari wish list.

Our guide for this portion of the trip was Rebecca Bishop. Around Gorongosa National Park, everyone knows her simply as “The Vulture Lady.” She was joined by Greg Kaltenecker, a professor at Boise State University and director of the Intermountain Bird Observatory. Both are genuinely excited about all things with feathers.

Rebecca earned her master’s degree studying Gorongosa vultures under Greg’s mentorship and now has a research grant from the UAE to continue her work in Mozambique. We were fortunate to tag along because John had purchased a four-day vulture research trip for two at an Intermountain Bird Observatory fundraiser. Ed and I essentially came as enthusiastic sidekicks.

We also downgraded our accommodations from “glamping chic” to “government research station adjacent.” Let’s just say nobody was posting photos of the rooms on Instagram.

Vultures may not win beauty contests, but they are among Africa’s most important sanitation workers. By consuming carcasses quickly, they help prevent the spread of diseases that affect both wildlife and people.

The True Pecking Order

One of the most fascinating lessons involved vulture hierarchy.

Early in our visit we watched dozens of vultures gathered around a dead Cape Buffalo. They appeared agitated, hopping up and down and jostling for position. This 20-second clip captures the experience better than any photograph could.

At first it looked like complete chaos.

In reality, they were waiting for the VIP.

The birds couldn’t start feeding until a Lappet-faced Vulture arrived. With its much larger and stronger beak, the Lappet-faced Vulture is one of the few species capable of tearing through the buffalo’s thick hide.

Think of it as the designated can opener of the vulture world.

Once the carcass was opened, the feeding frenzy could begin.

A Passion for Vultures

Rebecca is studying two critically endangered species in Gorongosa National Park: White-backed Vultures and White-headed Vultures. (The White-backed population outnumbers the White-headed birds by roughly ten to one.)

If there is such a thing as being completely in your element, Rebecca was it.

Every morning she loaded up her gear, drove us deep into the park, located nesting sites, and launched a drone to inspect nests hidden high above the ground.

She carefully assembled the drone and set it on a launchpad.

Then she expertly guided it above the tree canopy while the rest of us stood below pretending we understood what we were looking at.

The drone provided an up-close view of nests that would otherwise require climbing some very unfriendly trees.

Meanwhile, the fan club below was fully invested in the operation.

Rebecca meticulously recorded the condition of each nest, documenting occupancy, activity, and any signs of breeding. Fortunately, vultures are creatures of habit and often return to the same nesting tree year after year.

It was still a bit early for eggs, but many birds were already preparing their nests for the upcoming breeding season. We learned that White-backed Vultures typically nest in Borassus palm trees, while White-headed Vultures prefer baobab trees.

Who knew vultures had real estate preferences?

Both species lay just one egg per year. After an incubation period of roughly 55-56 days, parents care for the chick for another 110-130 days before it becomes independent.

One egg. One chick. One chance.

No wonder Rebecca worries about every nest.

This summer she will spend eight weeks in the park conducting field research. Since she has worked in Gorongosa for several years, she has developed strong relationships with many of the rangers and staff. She has even learned Portuguese and is typically accompanied by an armed ranger to make sure there are no unplanned encounters with lions or elephants.

Vultures: The Most Misunderstood Birds in Africa

Before the trip, I asked Rebecca for a book recommendation so I could sound moderately informed.

The book taught me something surprising:

Vultures may be the most misunderstood birds on the planet.

They don’t kill animals.
They clean up animals that are already dead.
They’re not destructive.
They’re one of nature’s most efficient sanitation crews.

And those bald heads? They’re not ugly. They’re brilliantly designed. If your job involves sticking your head inside a carcass, feathers would be a terrible idea.

Sadly, vultures are declining throughout Africa.

One reason is that poachers often target them because vultures can detect a dead animal within minutes and quickly begin circling overhead—essentially advertising the location of illegal poaching activity to rangers. To prevent further broadcast of the event transpiring on land below the circling vultures, poachers lace the carcass with poison. Once the vultures come down to feed, the poison acts quickly and hundreds of vultures may die in a singular poaching event.

While poisoning is the leading cause of decline for African vultures, use in traditional belief systems, habitat loss, and collision with power lines are also contributors.

Rebecca describes vultures as the “canary in the coal mine” for the ecosystem. When vulture populations decline, it’s often an early warning sign that larger environmental problems are brewing.

Down to the Bones

Earlier one day, Greg and Rebecca had observed about 30 vultures descending on a dead warthog.

Fifteen minutes later, the warthog had effectively ceased to exist.

Naturally, we had to investigate.

When we arrived at the scene later that afternoon, all that remained was a collection of remarkably clean bones. Greg and Rebecca hopped out of the vehicle to admire the handiwork like art critics evaluating a masterpiece.

Apparently, the vultures would return later for the bones themselves after they had dried out a bit.

Waste not, want not.

Twister, But With Vultures

Watching Rebecca work reminded us of Helen Hunt in Twister.

She was constantly scanning the horizon through binoculars, looking for circling birds that might indicate a fresh carcass somewhere in the distance.

The moment she spotted activity, she’d point the vehicle toward the action and head cross-country.

Off-road.

Immediately.

No hesitation.

The rest of us would simply hang on.

On our final day, her persistence paid off and we witnessed vultures feeding on a fresh carcass. This 6 -second clip shows the vulture feeding frenzy.

This gathering included both White-backed and White-headed Vultures.

Fortunately, there was plenty of food to go around.

For the vultures, anyway.

Building the Next Generation

One of the most impressive aspects of Rebecca’s work is her commitment to “capacity building”—helping local conservationists continue the work long after she leaves. She has trained a local scientist, Diolinda Mundoza, to monitor nests and collect data throughout the year. Diolinda will continue entering information into the database, creating a long-term record of vulture populations in the park.

Rebecca is also passionate about education and has developed materials for local eco-clubs so children and teens can learn about the important role vultures play in the ecosystem.

Thorough Vulture Research

Rebecca is conducting some of the first comprehensive vulture breeding research ever done in Mozambique. The kind of counting and monitoring she is doing for vultures today was done for many large mammals decades ago.

Her work is important, groundbreaking, and, judging by the affection shown by the local staff, deeply appreciated.

Now we understand why the rangers have given her a nickname: The Vulture Lady. And after spending four days with her, we mean that as the highest possible compliment.

What an Experience

Our four days with Greg and Rebecca gave us a completely different perspective on safari travel.

Most visitors come to Gorongosa hoping to see lions, elephants, and warthogs. We talked about them in our previous post. But we came away talking about vultures. And we made new friends.

Beauty comes in many forms. Sometimes it wears magnificent feathers. Sometimes it cleans up the mess the rest of nature leaves behind.

Rejuvenation in Gorongosa

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Some places inspire you. Some places amaze you.

And then there are places like Gorongosa National Park that make you glad that one person really can change the world.

Gorongosa has experienced quite a journey over the last 80 years. In the 1940s, 50s, and 60s, it was considered one of Africa’s premier wildlife destinations. Then came the Mozambique Civil War, which lasted nearly 20 years and devastated both the park and the surrounding communities. Wildlife populations collapsed, infrastructure disappeared, and many local families struggled simply to survive.

Today, Gorongosa is one of Africa’s great conservation success stories.

More than 300,000 people now live in the “buffer zone” surrounding the park. Twenty years ago many families lived in extreme poverty. Today there are schools, healthcare clinics, clean water systems, economic opportunities, and over 100 free preschools serving local children.

The wildlife has made an equally remarkable comeback. Scientists have documented hundreds of species of plants and animals, and the park is once again teeming with life.

The driving force behind much of this transformation is Greg Carr, an Idaho native who made his fortune as a young entrepreneur by helping pioneer voicemail technology and investing in Prodigy long before the internet became part of daily life.

Rather than retiring to a yacht somewhere, Greg chose a different adventure.

Twenty years ago he established the Carr Foundation and partnered with the Government of Mozambique to restore Gorongosa. Recently, he committed to another twenty years of support.

The results are extraordinary.

Becoming Gorongosa Groupies

Ed and I have been unofficial Greg Carr groupies since 2015.

That year we attended a presentation at the Community Library in Ketchum, Idaho. Local filmmaker Bob Poole had created a National Geographic documentary about Gorongosa’s transformation. It aired on PBS and both Bob and Greg came to discuss the project.

We left the presentation inspired—and determined to visit someday.

As it turned out, “someday” took a while.

We planned trips in both 2020 and 2025. One was cancelled by Covid. The other was cancelled by political unrest.

Apparently Gorongosa wanted us to prove our commitment.

Finally, in June 2026, we made it.

And it was worth every delay.

Glamping, Safari Style

We visited Gorongosa with our friends Grace Harvey and John Bailey from Sun Valley and spent our first three days at Chicari Camp, the park’s luxury wilderness safari lodge.

This was technically camping.

The kind of camping where someone else makes your bed, serves gourmet meals, and brings you coffee.

The best kind of camping.

Each day we explored the park in an open-air jeep driven by our guide, Agness.

Agness is a 29-year-old dynamo from Malawi who speaks English and Portuguese and seems to know absolutely everything about Gorongosa. She could spot wildlife hidden hundreds of yards away while the rest of us were still trying to locate it after she pointed directly at it.

“Over there!”

“Where?”

“Next to the tree.”

“What tree?”

“The big tree.”

“There are 500 trees.”

Meanwhile, Agness had already identified the species, gender, approximate age, and likely mood of the animal.

She introduced us to baboons, elephants, impalas, warthogs, and countless other species.

Following the civil war, scientists supported by the Carr Foundation carefully studied which species had disappeared and developed a long-term plan to reintroduce animals from neighboring countries.

The strategy has worked.

Elephants now roam the park in large family groups. We learned that some can still be aggressive because generations of elephants experienced intense hunting pressure during the war.

Fortunately, our elephants seemed content to ignore us.

Mostly.

At one point we heard a very loud trumpet blast from somewhere behind our vehicle. Agness immediately accelerated while the four of us suddenly became very interested in moving quickly in the opposite direction.

Thankfully, we never saw what was making the noise. Sometimes ignorance is comforting. We were content at viewing these magnificent creatures from a distance.

Lions have also returned, although not in the numbers we saw last year in Botswana.

Love was clearly in the air. We witnessed a private moment for two lions and two nyalas, both of whom seemed focused on helping Gorongosa’s wildlife recovery one baby at a time.

The most successful comeback story may be the waterbuck, which now seem to be everywhere.

Our Favorite Animal

Without question, our favorite animal was the endangered pangolin.

If you’ve never seen a pangolin, imagine that an armadillo and a pine cone somehow had a baby.

They are among the most trafficked mammals in the world and are carefully protected in Gorongosa.

We visited a special conservation program where pangolins are monitored and cared for while still being allowed to forage naturally.

The pangolins spend several hours each day searching for ants and termites.

They also appeared perfectly content being carried around in what looked remarkably like a baby sling.

It was hard not to fall in love with them.

Sun and Moon … Together!

During one magical sundowner, we witnessed the sun setting in the west while the moon quietly rose in the east. It was one of those rare moments that makes you stop talking and simply soak it all in.

A Visit to a Village

One day we crossed a river in a traditional boat to visit a nearby village.

The village preschool was one of the highlights of our trip.

More than 100 preschoolers were outside playing games, laughing, and preparing for snack time.

Within minutes we found ourselves playing soccer, jump rope, and hopscotch.

The children were far better at all three activities than we were.

Inside the classroom, colorful learning materials filled the ceiling and walls.

Our favorite lesson?

“P is for Pangolin.”

Not many American preschools can say that.

We were also delighted to see banners highlighting women pilots, judges, doctors, and other professionals.

The future looks bright for these students.

Snack that day consisted of porridge fortified with moringa and peanut butter. Nutritious meals are a major incentive for parents to send children to school, and attendance rates have increased dramatically as a result.

At the local health clinic we met a woman who had given birth just the night before. Mother and baby were doing well, while other women arrived for prenatal care and well-baby visits.

The village also had access to clean water through several boreholes.

A simple thing.

A life-changing thing.

Education Changes Everything

Education (especially for girls and women) is one of the pillars of the Carr Foundation’s work.

We met several students who had received scholarships to study abroad, including Gabi, a Boise State graduate who now oversees the preschool program in Gorongosa.

Agness mentors young women who are rising in the ranks at the park.

We also met a team of professors from Boise State who are developing a study-abroad program in Mozambique.

It’s amazing how often Boise State appears in conversations nearly 10,000 miles from Idaho.

Science in the Bush

One of the surprises of our visit was Gorongosa’s E.O. Wilson Science Center.

Nestled in the middle of rural Mozambique is a sophisticated research facility equipped with advanced scientific equipment including DNA analysis tools, high-performance liquid chromatography systems, scientific freezers, and specialized laboratory equipment.

Scientists can collect specimens in the morning and begin analyzing them the same afternoon.

During our visit, researchers from Poland were studying micro-vertebrates, while graduate students from the region were pursuing advanced degrees.

The late Harvard biologist E.O. Wilson was instrumental in promoting biodiversity research in Gorongosa, and his influence remains evident throughout the center, including in the lab where they store specimens of the biodiversity of the park.

We learned that Greg Carr has achieved a level of conservation fame that most of us can only dream about: scientists named a species after him. Gorongosa carri, a cricket-like katydid found on Mount Gorongosa, now permanently carries his name. Most people are lucky to get a park bench dedicated in their honor. Greg got a bug.

A Hospital on the Horizon

As if all of this weren’t enough, Gorongosa recently announced plans to partner with the University of Pittsburgh to build a state-of-the-art hospital serving the region.

Greg is currently assembling support from major donors, and construction is expected to begin soon.

The impact on healthcare throughout the region could be transformative.

Our Small Attempt to Give Back

As a tiny contribution to all that Gorongosa has given others, we conducted a Design Thinking workshop for fourteen community development managers from the park.

Jan presented the Stanford Design Thinking curriculum while Jacob, a park employee, simultaneously translated into Portuguese.

Ed handled technology support, answered questions, and occasionally rescued the PowerPoint presentation.

The participants were enthusiastic, engaged, and full of ideas.

We plan to translate the materials into Portuguese so they can continue using them with their teams.

It was a small contribution, but one we hope will be useful.

Obrigada, Greg!

Visiting Gorongosa was one of the most uplifting experiences we have had in years.

The park demonstrates what can happen when conservation, education, healthcare, economic opportunity, and local leadership all work together toward a common goal.

Greg Carr is remarkably humble and unassuming. Yet the impact of his vision is visible everywhere—in the schools, the clinics, the villages, the wildlife, and the opportunities available to thousands of families.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the problems in the world.

Gorongosa is a reminder that progress is possible.

And sometimes it starts with one person who decides to do something about it.

PS: Our next four days will be spent chasing vultures across the African bush with a scientist known locally as ‘The Vulture Lady.’ Stay tuned…

A Magical Week at Las Cruces

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At the end of March, Ed and I spent a wonderful week at Rancho Las Cruces — a private resort on the Sea of Cortez in Baja California. The setting did most of the heavy lifting: pristine waters, blue skies, whales breaching off the shoreline, dramatic sunsets.

The most magical part was spending time with our grand kids – Eloise (5) and Beau (2 ½), and their parents – Emma and Ben.

Part of the joy was being unplugged. Ed and I hadn’t gone a week without our laptops in longer than either of us cared to admit. Instead, we splashed in the pool with Eloise, received a comprehensive education from Beau on the intricacies of Paw Patrol and — more importantly — construction equipment, built sandcastles, read books, and remembered what it feels like to do absolutely nothing on purpose.

Activities Abound

We were definitely not sedentary.

A kayak trip to a remote beach turned up new treasures and great swimming.

Eloise added several specimens to her shell museum (curatorial standards: high).

Ping-pong was fast and furious.

Mini-golf and croquet became prime pre-dinner sports.

We played pickleball, and made up stories by the pool. Beau was often a rocket ship who was cruising the galaxy. He would run around the pool upon lift off.

Snorkeling revealed a vast underwater world of fish and urchins. The ocean floor, however, was rocky enough that I am now the proud owner of water sandals, purchased the moment we landed back in California. Lesson learned. Feet noted.

Speaking of feet: Ed acquired an intense sunburn on his feet and calves on day one. Turns out the parts of you that have never seen the sun are the parts that take it personally.

The pool was shallow and perfect for play. The kids invented new games, the runaway favorite being “Let’s Dunk Nana and PopPop!” — pure, joyful chaos, with Eloise as ringleader. There is nothing quite like watching a five-year-old discover the feeling of power.

A Hike to the Chapel

A small open-air chapel sits on a hill overlooking the sandy beaches. Newish-looking mosaics of the Stations of the Cross adorn the walls. Emma’s brother Tim was married in this church in 2013. We weren’t at the wedding (Ben and Emma were early in their relationship, and we hadn’t quite crossed into “family” territory yet), but between photos, videos, and stories, it felt like we had been there. Standing in the church, it was easy to picture Ben on the balcony with his guitar as the bridal procession passed below.

Dorado, Anyone?

Ben caught a 5-kilo dorado (Mahi Mahi to friends) on a fishing trip in a rustic, traditional boat. It happened fast — Ben did all the work, with the captain offering oversight rather than rescue.

The captain helped him reel it in, and he was able to pose for the proud photo!

That night, we ate the freshest imaginable ceviche and sashimi. Delicious!

Private Dancing Lesson

On our last evening, Eloise was presented with a dress made for her by the Las Cruces staff. She’d half-expected it — her older cousin Maelyn had the same experience on a previous visit — but the magic held. A local professional dancer, accompanied by a guitarist, taught her traditional Mexican steps, and then gave us a personal performance.

And then — without warning, without preamble — a belly dancer appeared. Who knew that belly dancers were popular in Mexico? It was strange and wonderful, completely out of place and entirely fun.

History Around Every Corner

The Las Cruces resort just celebrated its 75th anniversary. Emma has been visiting since childhood — her parents were members starting in the ’80s — and many of the staff still know her. There was something sentimental about watching her watch her own kids run around the place where she’d run around as a kid.

The history goes deeper. Soon after the resort was founded, it became a Hollywood escape — Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz built a home on the property. Their house has a guitar-shaped pool out front, a nod to Desi’s other life as a musician and bandleader (the comedic actor and producer hats came later).

His tombstone sits just outside the side of the chapel, which got Ed wondering whether future generations will even know who Lucy and Desi were, or carry the indelible image of Lucy and Ethel at the chocolate factory conveyor belt, stuffing candies into their mouths, hats, and shirtfronts as the line sped up. Some cultural touchstones don’t survive the handoff. We hope this one does.

But the deeper history dates to 1536, when Hernán Cortés landed here. He thought he’d found an island and named it Santa Cruz. Three crosses were planted on the hill — Las Cruces — and the replicas stand in the same spot today. (Ed nearly slipped while climbing to the these crosses in flip flops. Next time, he’ll wear shoes.)

Thankful for Everything!

We were grateful for the chance to unplug and be together. No TSA drama, no flight chaos, no immigration adventures — just good food, good times, and memories we’ll keep coming back to.

Victoria Falls: A Grand Finale

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Our June safari ended with a bang — at Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe.

To get there, we hopped on a small plane to northern Botswana, then crossed the border by cab. Right away, the contrast between the two countries was striking. In Botswana, everything just worked — smooth roads, friendly faces, a general sense of ease. Zimbabwe told a different story. The cab ride was bumpy, the seatbelts barely functioned, and there was no AC. More than that, the economic struggles were impossible to miss. Everywhere we went, people asked for tips or tried to sell us trinkets.

We checked into the famous Victoria Falls Hotel, built in 1904. Though updated over the years, it still radiates British colonial vibes — you can practically feel the “upstairs—downstairs” dynamic. Maybe that explains why every service, no matter how small, seemed to come with an unspoken request for a tip.

The hotel may have been a mixed bag, but the Falls? Absolutely jaw—dropping. It’s easy to see why they’re considered one of the seven natural wonders of the world: 1,700 meters wide, 108 meters high, and roaring with power.

We followed the nature trail with its 17 viewpoints, each one revealing a new angle of the thundering cascade. Water exploded from the cliffs, sending a mist so heavy it soaked us through — no need for rain showers here!

We passed the statue of David Livingstone, who brought news of the Falls to Europe in 1855 (though, of course, local communities had known of them long before).

We’d visited the Falls before, in November 2012, and barely got wet that time. So when locals offered rain slickers this June, we smugly declined. Big mistake. June means far more water, and we were drenched. Thankfully, the hot African sun dried us out quickly.

That Was Then, This Is Now

Some things had definitely changed since our 2012 trip. The airport is far more modern now.

But other parts felt like stepping right back into the past.

Zambezi River Cruise → Still the same peaceful ride, spotting animals lounging along the riverbanks

Bridge to Zambia → Still buzzing with life, still filled with trucks inching through customs, and still home to bungee jumpers hurling themselves off the edge (not us, then or now!).

The Big Tree → This baobab tree is still massive, still magical, still wrapped in folklore.

Farewell for Now

And just like that, our African adventure came to a close. Victoria Falls gave us a finale that was equal parts humbling, exhilarating, and unforgettable.

So, farewell for now, Africa — until next time.

Lessons from the Pride

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“Up close and personal” barely captures our experience with the lions near Mokete camp in Botswana.

As apex predators, lions hunt not just with strength but with brainpower. We found ourselves marveling—not just at their roar—but at their strategic planning and execution.

Buffalo at Sundown

On our first outing to track the lions, we encountered this gigantic herd of over 2000 Cape Buffalo.

The buffalo were relaxed, enjoying the companionship of the cattle egrets and yellow oxpeckers who were removing ticks, fleas, and other parasites from their hides.

As we watched, two lionesses tracked this massive herd of buffalo as the sun eased into dusk.

They scouted, searching for a weak link. One lioness climbed a termite mound and roared—a call for reinforcements, a step in the plan.

The herd stayed tight. No help arrived. The lionesses withdrew—hungry, but undeterred.

Breakfast, the Next Morning

At dawn, reinforcements had arrived. This time the odds shifted.

The lions slipped through the grass, coordinated their approach, and closed in from multiple angles.

They separated the lone buffalo.

And then they attacked from multiple directions.

We learned that lions don’t break necks. They suffocate. A bite to the throat collapses the windpipe, or they clamp the muzzle shut. Once the prey fell, the pride regrouped and fed in turn, each waiting its moment. Watching them, we couldn’t help but notice the quiet efficiency of it all—like an old rhythm practiced many times before.

Strategy in the Grass

What struck us most wasn’t the violence—it was the calm calculation.

Every pride member seemed to know their role. One distracted, another flanked, a third watched the herd’s cohesion. They probed, tested, adjusted.

Evolution shaped the behavior, our guide explained, and it felt deliberate—a type of significant intelligence and problem-solving. We noted how some groups of people might benefit from that kind of instinctive and disciplined teamwork.

Teaching and Echoes

Another day, a different pride brought down a buffalo and turned the carcass into a classroom.

Two-month-old cubs were pushed forward to learn the basics of meat, teeth, and survival. They learned to taste blood by licking their mother’s face. Training in its rawest form.

This carcass was a tasty meal for the entire pride, and they took turns dining well into the night.

The hyenas waited patiently nearby for their turn at the action.

By morning, all remnants of the carcass were gone, except for some spots of blood.

Elsewhere, two lions alternated between guarding and feeding on a young elephant carcass.

Later, a pair of males roared across the river to their brothers in Namibia. The response came back in stereophonic thunder, shaking us to our cores.

Surrounded

One of the most unforgettable moments came when our safari jeep suddenly found itself surrounded by lions.

More and more lions popped up out of the grass and sauntered by our jeep. The effect swallowed us—so powerful it felt like an initiation into their clan. When they roared, the volume shook the air, yet we never felt unsafe. Instead, it was as if we’d been briefly folded into their circle.

Small Camps, Big Lessons

Our guides weren’t just drivers. They were storytellers, ecologists, teachers. They wanted us to see not just the hunt, but the system behind it: the planning, the discipline, the way each action fed into the balance of the ecosystem.

Unlike other safari regions, this one remains refreshingly uncluttered. Camps are small and remote. A few vehicles, never a traffic jam. Each sighting feels private, raw, and real.

The lions are habituated to safari vehicles. Our guides said they don’t mind our vehicles close by – the lions just assume we’re a different, non-threatening species. Some lions even like to sit in the shade supplied by the vehicle. You can see how close we are!

To sit within a pride of lions, hear them roar across borders, and watch them teach their cubs the rules of survival—this is to glimpse the circle of life as it truly unfolds.

As the sun set each evening, we returned to the comfort and safety of camp. The smell of wood smoke drifted in the air, lantern light flickered on canvas walls, and the images of the day lingered—later mixing into our dreams, but only after we had sipped our fine South African wines.

Okavango Delta Adventure

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The Okavango Delta in Botswana boasts an incredible diversity of wildlife. During our two-week safari in June, we marveled at this ecosystem, with its lush waterways, vast collections of animals, active birdlife, and luxurious ‘glamping’.

The Okavango Delta is one of the largest intact inland delta systems on Earth. It’s fed by the Okavango River, which flows over a thousand kilometers from its source in Angola. Our safari camp, Jacana, is only accessible by boat during the winter, so our guides used several types of water transportation to expertly navigate the area.

We were joined in this adventure by our two friends, Todd and Barbara.

Living Their Best Life

With Botswana’s strong conservation laws and such abundant water supply the animals were thriving. We wondered – “if we were reincarnated and landed here, which animal would we be?” Our first thought was to be a hippo, as they tend to lounge around in groups and savor the sunlight. They even have little friends, yellow-billed oxpeckers, to pick bugs off their back. Nice!

But, we learned that hippos like to live in their own poop, so we nixed this idea.

Our next idea was to return as a Saddle-billed Stork, since they are beautiful and surrounded by plentiful food.

Maybe we could come back as a pair of Wattled Cranes, since they mate for life and live in a flock. (We learned that the flap below their neck, their ‘wattle’, can indicate their mood. This could help in sensing the needs of your partner.)

Or, we could come back as an African Fish Eagle, as they leisurely perch on top of a tree and peruse the land below. They’re pretty territorial and usually return to the same perch each day. This seemed pretty attractive, as they ruled over the area.

The Pel’s Fishing Owl is a rare bird that only lives in this delta. They perch in pairs high in the trees to observe the action below. Many birdwatchers visit the delta just to check this bird off their list, so it might be cool to be a bit famous.

Maybe a red lechwe? They live in large groups and thrive in the delta because their long, slender hooves help them walk or run through swampy, muddy water.

We finally decided that returning as a matriarchal elephant topped the cake. These amazing creatures live with a strong sense of community; they have a long life span (up to 74 years), retain strong memories, and take care of their offspring. Any annoying young male in the herd is sent away to a bachelor herd or to live on his own.

This matriarch ensured everyone crossed the river safely. She also kept a watchful eye out for the next feeding ground.

Botswana is home to the largest elephant population in Africa. These majestic creatures are protected by national parks and private concessions. They undertake a remarkable migration, traveling 200 kilometers up and down the river system, forming vast herds.

The Ugly Five

We had heard of the “big five” – the checklist for safari travelers – but we were unaware of the “ugly five.” This time, we had the opportunity to witness them in action: the warthog, wildebeest, hyena, vulture, and marabou stork. Although not traditionally considered beautiful, each plays a crucial role in the ecosystem.

Termite Mounds Abound

Even though they are ugly, termite mounds are considered key pillars of the ecosystem because they improve soil properties, increase nutrient availability, and facilitate water movement through the ground, all of which benefit nearby plants. Many animals inhabit abandoned termite mounds, and ancient mounds often serve as the base for majestic trees.

Survival of the Fittest

Not all life is long and peaceful, as nature exhibits a predator hierarchy. We learned that the list goes: 1. Lion, 2. Spotted hyena 3. African wild dog 4. Leopard.

The lions roam freely in this area – often in large family packs. They are strategic hunters.

Hyenas boast incredibly strong jaws, capable of even consuming bones!

We didn’t spot any wild dogs, but this leopard was diligently searching for her next meal.

Leopards conceal their prey in trees to prevent lions from stealing them. This leopard demonstrated remarkable patience as she attempted to raise her impala into the tree. After exhausting her efforts at this particular tree, she relocated to a more accessible location.

Navigating by Boat and Jeep

While we traveled by boat to our camp, we also boarded a safari jeep to explore the surrounding area, which was mostly covered in water. We discovered that our safari jeep could travel in water up to the top of the doors, as long as the tires touched the bottom. (!) Initially, this was a bit nerve-wracking, but our guide reassured us that as long as the ‘snorkel’ was out of the water, we were safe.

Flying Between the Camps

Since Botswana’s roads are not easily navigable, we flew between the safari camps in small planes operated by Wilderness Aviation. Before landing, the pilot would pass over the dirt landing strip to check for animals that might be lounging there. Once assured that the runway was clear, they would land smoothly. We were delighted to meet our first pilot, a young woman who stood at 5 feet tall. She revealed that her uncle had taught her to fly when she was a teenager. Interestingly, there are now six female pilots in the Wilderness pilot pool.

When the camp was really remote (and there was no airstrip), we flew by helicopter. This fleet of helicopters is flown by mostly expats from South Africa, New Zealand, Canada, or other countries, as there is no helicopter training school in Botswana.

Our low-altitued flight let us observe thousands of lush waterways and hundreds of elephants and giraffes wandering through the area.

Glamping at its Finest

Wilderness, a socially responsible company, offers 20 camps in the Okavango Delta. We stayed in three different camps, and all were excellent. We were pampered in luxurious tents, and our meals were served in various locations throughout the facilities.

The team also hosted sundowners with animals in beautiful locations.

Or cocktails near stunning baobab trees.

What a treat to be able to experience this fabulous habitat! Stay tuned…

Charming Cotswolds

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Enchanting villages, flower-bedecked cottages, and sheep-filled pastures grace the Cotswold Hills in England. Ed and I spent several days here in June, exploring both the Northern Cotswold area and the city of Bath in the Southern Cotswolds.

Tripping from Town to Town

For the Northern Cotswolds, we based ourselves in Moreton-in-Marsh, as it is one of the few villages with a train station. We explored the region in a van with a local guide who was both knowledgeable and entertaining. We learned that sheep used to be the primary industry here, but now the region depends on tourism. It costs more to shear a sheep than the wool is worth. Too bad!

We stayed in a 300-year-old building in Moreton-in-Marsh, which was the inspiration for J.R.R. Tolkien’s Prancing Pony Inn in The Lord of the Rings.

Throughout the region, homeowners decorated their doorways with colorful wreaths and plaques. We purchased a similar plaque for “Forman House” during a visit to the UK 30 years ago, and it now graces the magnolia tree in our backyard in Santa Barbara.

Chipping Campden Oozes Charm

Chipping Campden is a charming village, rich with history. Many of the buildings date from the 14th to the 17th centuries, the height of the thriving wool trade. The Grevel House is the oldest in the area, dating back to 1380. It was initially built without a roof, and one was added during a later renovation.

We admired the thatched-roof houses and thought that this one was perfect for a Porsche commercial.

In the Cotswolds, thatching is a thriving trade, since each thatched roof must be replaced every 40 years. If you need a thatcher, you’ll have to get on their waiting list! The decorative ridge work at the peak of each roof is impressive.

Many homes were tucked away behind thick greenery and well-maintained hedges.

Snowshill Takes Center Stage

The small village of Snowshill (where our guide lived) was used as the setting for a scene from Bridget Jones’ Diary in 2001.

It has everything a village needs: a church, a pub, and a red telephone box. The flowers were well-tended and beautiful. They had to truck in snow for the Bridget Jones movie shoot, since it was filmed in late July.

Bibury Brings in the Tourists

Ever since the emperor of Japan called this village “the most beautiful village in England,” Japanese tourists and many others flock to this charming destination. They’ve even had to limit access for large tour buses because there is nowhere for them to park.

Father’s Day in Bourton-on-the-Water

Many visitors and locals relaxed along the river in this town, known as the “Venice of the Cotswolds.” Stone bridges criss-cross the River Windrush, which flows right through the town center. Since it was a beautiful Sunday, many children played in the shallow river, while their parents relaxed nearby.

It was a perfect spot for ice cream (for both two-legged and four-legged connoisseurs)!

Scenic Vistas

We took our signature yoga position on Dover’s Hill, the site of the annual “Cotswold Olimpicks,” where locals compete in traditional games like shin-kicking. Pairs of men kick each other’s shins until one falls down. The local champion, a big burly guy, has won for the last 10 years. This year, upon winning, he announced his retirement. Who knew?

Bath

Bath is a fascinating city that hosts a Roman bath on top of one of the few hot springs in England. Ancient civilizations thought this water came from the gods, and throughout history, people began to learn about the healing qualities of the water — both for bathing and for drinking. (Yuk.) We explored the bath with a well-produced audio guide.

We loved Bath Abbey and were awestruck by the fan-vaulted ceiling and the stained glass. Jan attended the world premiere of a cantata performed by 250 schoolchildren, who were accompanied by a professional orchestra. The Abbey was filled with proud parents and grandparents — and at least one tourist from America. The composer and librettist were present, applauded the children, and took a bow.

Informative Walking Tour

The mayor’s office provides free local walking tours led by knowledgeable retired residents. We followed in the footsteps of Jane Austen (who would have turned 250 this year) and visited the filming locations for “Bridgerton.” We skipped the detailed Bridgerton tour but caught a glimpse of one in progress, and it was clearly aimed at teenage girls!

Our lively guide told us about the city’s development, architecture, and the historical Georgian social scene. We learned that elegant ladies were carried in chairs through the streets, with young boys calling ‘chair ho’ in front of them to ask people to move aside. According to our guide, this has evolved into the current phrase, ‘cheerio’!

The pub scene was lively, and our guide directed us to one of his favorite spots.

We also loved the restaurants in Bath. On our last night, we sat outside next to a young couple and struck up a conversation. We learned that the young man, Gideon Summerfield, is a portrait artist who has worked for King Charles and will have an exhibition in Buckingham Palace next year. We might just have to return to see it. His art is terrific.

The Architecture of Bath

Bath is renowned for its harmonious architecture, which seamlessly blends Roman and Georgian styles. The city’s unique buildings are a significant reason it has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The urban vistas are breathtaking.

While the street-facing facades of the buildings preserve their authenticity and uniformity, many have undergone significant interior renovations to better accommodate modern life.

While the architects and planners focused on the street-facing facades, the backs of the buildings are, to put it mildly, chaotic.

We were struck by how different the curved waterworks along the River Avon felt from everything else we saw there. The city was full of beautiful Georgian buildings lined up in perfect rows — all straight lines and symmetry. But when we reached the Pulteney Weir, suddenly there were flowing, horseshoe-shaped curves cutting through the water. It seemed as if the weir had taken Bath’s love of patterns and repetition and expressed it in a completely different way. Instead of the rigid rectangles we had been seeing everywhere, there was a sense of movement and energy that made the quiet stream an integral part of a beautiful, historic city.

On the other hand, in some squares—though we probably should call them ‘circuses’—very classic Georgian facades are arranged in curved rows, so perhaps the weir is not at all out of place!

Occasionally, a reminder that we are no longer in the Georgian era would drift into view—like this bright red hot air balloon—but it didn’t stay long.

So, ‘cheerio’ England! We adored our visit and can’t wait to return.