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Oh Dear.

Is it really two months since I’ve written a  blog?

In my defence, WordPress changed its format and I just didn’t have the time to spend working through the process because I was on the road for almost 3 months.

My travels began on the 1st of January, through Morocco and on to Kenya, then down to Cape Town South Africa, up to Johannesburg and back to Cape Town on Safari.

I had a few weeks home before I embarked on a trip to India… now I’m in the USA ….. folks the feet have barely hit the ground, but I’m valuing an unexpected week of time off and I can catch up on working through the blog as well as helping work on new tours to India, Morocco, Egypt, Tanzania, Kenya, South Africa.

I was based in Nairobi to begin with and after a few interesting interesting incidents the tour went well.

Note from my Diary.

We travel through the countryside. Leaving the bustle and the noise of the city behind. I open the window, the air is warm and moist and smells faintly of the earth.

The land is undulating separated by a ribbon of road which is forever changing and interesting, not the road of course but the rolling documentary of the reality of life in the country in Kenya.

I love the small shops (or do you call them a stall) set back from the road and built from iron, stone and spare wood. The bright coloured clothes of the people are contrasted by the rainbow colors of the buildings. Put pink and green together on the front of the building, then add a few signs, and a purple roof and you attract customers with your uniqueness,

It’s Sunday and everyone is in their Sunday best, people are walking to church in their finery, flounces on bright red dresses small girls in white lace, young men in suits and snappy casual backlit by the tall cornfields… its just like a documentary.

Of course every woman wears a bright coloured head scarf, the older men in suits and the obligatory hat. Its a constant passing parade of people and scenery. 
We have just passed a bullock cart full of wood and it seems oblivious to the fast moving traffic beside it. 
I can’t take photos because we are moving too fast so commit the images to memory.

The four hours of travel went memory fast. So many things to see, to take in but I accept it as a unique experience.

So now I will add my photos to the blog, beginning with a few Giraffe photos and then up close and personal with a wart hog.

 

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This entry was posted in: Blog

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I travel the world teaching and talking. Photographing and writing, Sharing experiences What a way to go.

2 Comments

  1. Christena Wiseman says

    Hi Pam,
    I know you have friends and admirers all over the world and I am one of them. I don’t know how you have the energy for all you do. I so remember our class in Ajijic as you went from Mexico City to San Miguel de Allende. Several of us shared the same hotel and saw you for breakfast and convinced you to teach a class in Ajijic, promising you Spring weather, which we usually have and then??? Rain, almost every day you were there! We had our class at the church and a wonderful time in spite of the rain! When will you come back? I love you Darn Cat and Geraldine the Giraffe I saw the finished Geraldine in the studio of Luz Elena in Guadalajara and didn’t even know you’d given a class there? Giraffes seem so out of proportion and yet are such graceful creatures. I do wish you would list your classes and where they are going to be held in the U.S. (hopefully on the Pacific Coast) or in Mexico or Canada enough in advance so people like me could make arrangements and sign up in time to go. I also wish you’d add a little about your family in your blogs. I was so pleased to get your email and your blog. I live in Reno, NV. and in Ajijic, MX now. My husband and one son have died and another son and I are going to France for the 75th anniversary of D-Day and to see once again the boy with whom he did an exchange 25 years ago! I think it will be my last trip to Europe. My body doesn’t like such long trips! Please let us know where you’ll be. In friendship, Christy Wiseman

    Like

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