travel Archives - Seize The Davī

Herd of elephants run toward the camera from the bush behind

Just Say No to the Ride

June 16, 2016June 17, 2016 by Amy

Since we were unable to go to Johannesburg and Kruger National Park due to my rehabilitation needs and the girls’ school schedule, we needed to find an alternative animal park somewhere else to satisfy one last fix of the African wildlife. We decided on Addo Elephant Park, which is about 45 km from Port Elizabeth and seemed to fit nicely into our plans to drive along the Garden Route and stay overnight in one of the costal towns in the Eastern Cape. Addo is a national park a little over 1,600 square kilometers in size. Zebra, lion, Cape Buffalo, rhino and of course elephants are among the large animals you can see in the park. Hippo also live there but are found in an area of the park only accessible by 4-wheel drive. We heard that because of its size it is almost guaranteed that you will see all the animals. Unfortunately, we still missed the elusive lions but watched as a herd of about 15 elephants came charging out of the bush to drink at the water hole where we had front row seats. Our favorite character was the baby bouncing (and occasionally stumbling) alongside the mother with its trunk flopping around uncontrollably and exuding pure joy (actually we read that baby elephants have little control of their trunk for the first 2-3 weeks of life).

While planning our route, I read about Knysna (pronounced with the K silent) and Plettenburg Bay two coastal cities close to Port Elizabeth who are regaled for their beauty. I booked accommodation in Plettenburg or “Plett” as you would say if you were a local. I was also told to check out Knysna Elephant Park or KEP, which is located between Knysna and Plett. It is a privately owned elephant rescue program that also allows tourists to walk with, feed and ride the elephants. According to the website and the elephant caretakers we spoke to while there, KEP is a rescue sanctuary and their prime goal is to care for injured elephants and provide a safe haven for elephants from other game parks who are threatened for one reason or another, such as an aggressive older rhino who is on the attack. Once the elephants are safe and nursed back to health, they are reintroduced into larger, private game parks. These rescue elephants never see tourists. The elephants that tourists meet are the nine that make up their “resident herd”. One of the trainers was keen to make a differentiation between an elephant sanctuary and elephant park whose prime goal, according to him, is for tourism and profit.

Even though the option to ride the elephants was enticing, Jacob and I knew right away that we did not want to support this practice. Abusive training protocols in Southeast Asia has gained much publicity in recent years. From my research, I learned that elephants are not built to be pack animals and their backs cannot tolerate very much weight. I also read that many elephant tours in Southeast Asia use saddles perched in the middle of the elephant’s back and the elephants are forced to carry one to two people on long rides for up to 12 hours per day with little water. There was a story in April 2016 of an elephant at Angkor Wat in Cambodia that collapsed and died of exhaustion. The practice in Southeast Asia to train elephants for tourism as well as perform pack-animal work for farmers is called Phajaan or “the crush”. Baby elephants are stolen from their mothers and undergo this abuse and torture to break them of their “wildness”. Smugglers tranquilize the baby elephant so they can transport it and often they will shoot and kill other adult elephants that linger over the collapsed baby. The “trainers” will submit the baby to isolation, starve them of food and water and use bullhooks to beat and prod the elephant into submission. In Northern Thailand, there are now a few parks whose mission is to rescue and protect abused elephants. These elephants are already desensitized to humans and the park allows tourists to get up close and personal but not ride them.

Knysna Elephant Park does not use saddles to transport the riders. Instead, they use blankets and riders sit at the front of the elephant’s body above their shoulders where their backs are stronger. Additionally, the rides there are only 15-20 minutes long, which is more tolerable for the elephants. However, I still did not want to support riding elephants even if their way was more “humane”. As soon as the girls saw the other tourists getting ready to ride, they challenged our ability to hold steadfast to our decision with immediate tears and protests about how we are unfair and horrible parents. However, we are not parents who cave easily just to keep our children from experiencing disappointment. You know me, I of course think it is valuable for kids to experience the breadth of their emotions as well as understand that the world does not need to bend to their every whim. That is how they will learn that they have the strength to tolerate tough emotions and make responsible choices. Actually, this event gave us the opportunity to talk with them about the controversy and why we were choosing to walk instead of ride.

Our walk with the elephants was magical. I did not envy the riders one bit because all they did was sit on top holding onto the elephant’s trainer. They missed out on the relationship we created with our walking partners, Nandi and Thandi (mother and daughter). The trainer who was walking with Mackenzie and me told us that Nandi and Thandi have never been willing to accept riders and the trainers are of the belief that they will not force an elephant to do a job they do not want to do. As we walked, we got to look into their eyes, put our hand on their warm, rough skin and feel the wiry hairs on their bodies and trunks. By the end of the experience the girls had come around and understood that this experience was just as good if not better than a ride.

Still, after our walk, the memory that the trainers at KEP all carried bullhooks floated to the front of my mind. I started thinking more about elephant abuse and the training required for elephants to allow people on their backs. I wondered if KEP’s stated method of positive reinforcement was really all they use and if so, why the need for bullhooks? I watched how the trainer, walking with Mackenzie and me, used his hook to sort of push Nandi back into her line; he also used a strong voice like you would with a dog so maybe the bullhook is like a leash. I have an undergraduate degree in Psychology in which I learned all about positive reinforcement and how to get rats and pigeons to do tricks for me using food as a reward. I imagine this is what they do with the elephants as well but is this really humane? If elephants backs are not built to carry weight why do we think it is ok to put two adults up there even if their agreement is a bucket of fruit at the end. I then started to wonder about how much poking and prodding the elephants endure so that people can walk next to them? Is it really any better? I decided to ask Google about elephant abuse in Africa and guess which “sanctuary” came up in the feed? The owners of KEP also own and an elephant park called Elephants of Eden. In 2014 the owners were charged with and admitted to cruel and abusive treatment of baby elephants at Elephants of Eden but denied that the practice also occurs at KEP. Click to read for your self.

There are many businesses and organizations in the world that use animals in captivity to bring in money and raise awareness. It is pretty damn cool to be that close to an elephant or pet a cheetah but is my life going to be any less full if I just see these animals from a distance instead? Is keeping animals in captivity the right method to bring about awareness and conservation? Would people care as much about endangered species and land conservation if they didn’t get to see the animals in person and develop an empathetic connection?

These are multilayered, difficult questions and I really don’t have a clear answer. However, after all this research, what I do know is that if an elephant park or sanctuary offers elephant rides, it is best to steer clear. These parks are keeping their “resident herds” well stocked, so to speak, which means that when a baby like Thandi is born at the park, they are “training” her early to be willing to allow people to walk and/ or ride her. True sanctuaries, like the ones in Northern Thailand, are rescuing elephants from establishments like these and offering a place for them to retire and have a better life not further abuse and hard labor.

sculpture at top of signal hill that reads "your respect is my strength"

The Golden Rule

June 7, 2016January 4, 2017 by Amy

The drivers in Cape Town are some of the most courteous I have ever encountered. In our daily trek over the mountain pass of Ou Kaapseweg, from Simons Town to the southern suburbs, I have witnessed several small gestures of kindness from the local drivers. For example, similar to the mannered protocol of a ski lift line, when traffic is backed up and someone is trying to merge into the flow, drivers here take turns at the intersection. A practice I have wished for while cursing other drivers when merging into a packed highway in Denver. There is a busy right-hand turn we make every morning on the way to the girls’ school (here, that means turning across oncoming traffic) and if we were in the States, I know we would sit for a long time waiting for a break between cars to gun it across the intersection. However, here, oncoming drivers will slow down to create that break and allow you make your turn without stress. The first time it happened, Jacob was mistrustful of the driver and so hesitated but the driver patiently continued to pause his forward movement and flashed his lights to communicate for Jacob to make his turn.

Many of the major roadways around town are two lanes. Here, a slower driver will move over to the shoulder to allow faster cars to pass (this driving norm also causes me to grit my teeth and hold my breath because there is a huge number of people who walk and hitch hike on the shoulders of the road). Admittedly this shoulder-driving behavior can be observed while driving on the rural highways around Texas so I can’t give all the credit to the South Africans. However, the use of hazard lights and headlights to say “thank you” to the people behind or ahead respectively sets the citizens of Cape Town apart. In the States, it is true that use of goodwill while driving is occasionally met with a wave of a hand to express gratitude but in our era of road rage, in my experience, this is the exception rather than the rule. After discussing our Cape Town traffic observations with a parent from the girls’ school, Jacob was informed that this behavior is more about “car karma” a sort of pay it forward mentality. Whatever the intention, these small acts of kindness have made our commute a little more tolerable (as well as the amazing sunrise every morning).

The theme of kindness and courtesy has been alive throughout our travels. Before we left the States, Jacob and I conversed with a gentleman at a party who gave us the sage advice that simple acts of courtesy will go far with Peruvians, especially with the taxi drivers. He was not wrong about Peruvians and you may be thinking to yourself that common courtesy goes along way with most people. In fact, in the U.S. children are taught the Golden Rule: treat others the way you would like to be treated. However, I have seen in others and experienced in myself the way stress can barricade access to social judgment and highlight the worst in people instead of the best. Self-centered tunnel vision has caused my blood pressure to rise when things are not going the way I anticipated. When this happens, my lessons on the Golden Rule fly out the window and I end up treating my fellow human in a way I would not like to be treated.

One of the first people we met when we arrived to Namibia told us that it is considered rude to launch directly into requests and/or questions of a local person without first engaging in a little small talk or at least an inquiry into how that person is faring. In a simple five-minute conversation with the man on the street corner from whom you are asking directions or the person behind the counter at a gas station taking your money for a coke, a warm connection is made between two strangers. (warm fuzzies and cold prickles ring a bell for you kids of the ’70s?) It may not turn into a lifetime of friendship but it allows for each party to be seen and acknowledged as more than just a customer and attendant but rather a person to a person who share more similarities than differences. This social behavior is one that I and I am sure many others around the world already engage in regularly; however, since making these Namibian mores a conscious practice I have learned two things:

It allows me to slow down and realize that nothing is so urgent that I can’t spend a few moments engaged with a stranger in an exchange that will leave us both feeling good.
When a service person approaches me to ask what they can bring and/or help me with and I first inquire into how that person is doing, I get to watch my impact and see their demeanor immediately soften and a smile cross their face. Philosophically, I guess it’s really a selfish act and I’m ok with that.

Throughout our journey, I have tried to hold on to this idea of courteous travel and keep it in the front of my mind. Not surprisingly, I have noticed that it often puts my irrational, knee-jerk reactions to stress in check. More than a few times, it has helped me to step back and take a breath. Even in the face of bad service or the high-pressure street vendors this approach offers me a way to give feedback or be firm in my ‘no’ while also being respectful. Still, some might think that if I’m rude to the gas station attendant in Outjo, Namibia, flip off the driver who won’t let me into traffic or rant on some stranger’s post on Facebook it won’t matter, right? Why should I care? That person doesn’t know me and I’ll never see that driver or gas station attendant again. On the contrary, we should care about the way we treat our fellow humans and our actions definitely matter. It matters how we speak to each other, how we drive, how we express frustration or give feedback. If we have the intention to be respectful and kind in our interactions with each other, we will spread more kindness. If we “pay it forward” using disdain and anger, we will create more animosity in the world. Kindness shouldn’t be reserved for people in our own circles of family, friends or people who work in establishments within the radius of our homes. Respectful, kind and courteous behavior is more than just about manners written in the book by Emily Post. Kindness is a way to create the type of community I want to live in wherever I go, moment by moment at home and across the globe.

The golden way is to be friends with the world and to regard the whole human family as one ~ Muhatma Gandhi

View of buildings of Barceloneta from marina

Barcelona, the Blues and Bonding

February 19, 2016 by Amy

Amy walking by a stand of different colored chili peppers and spices — Mercat Sant Joesp

We have been wandering the streets and parks of Barcelona now for almost 4 weeks. For those of you who have been here, you know this city is not short on narrow, twisty, alluring streets that take you past old gothic churches and lead to beautiful, secret little plazas dwarfed on all sides by old buildings. I am amazed to see the ornate iron on the balconies going up at least 6-stories high knowing this place influenced so many architects and designers. As I look up at the balconies, decorated with potted plants or laundry hanging out to dry, I enjoy imagining the lives that are lived in those tiny spaces.

At eye level, reminding me that it is indeed 2016, graffiti decorates many of the rolling, steel doors that lock up a business for the day or sometimes just the hour. In fact, I really have no idea how these businesses sustain themselves. There is no way to take the same route twice through the Gothic or El Born districts. How do people remember which twisty street that small boutique was on? How do people keep track of the seemingly random closing times? Between vacations, holidays and siesta we had a hard time keeping up with each establishment’s schedule. Our friend advised us to always call before heading out to ensure they are open (something we keep forgetting to do!).

One thing I do understand and know for certain; I can feel the sense of community in this huge sprawling city and the sense of nostalgia that is creeping into my heart. Even in the chilly January weather, one can see Barcelonans and visitors sitting outside to enjoy the food, the scene and each other. Each restaurant or café has drawn the boundaries of their space on the plaza with heaters, tables and umbrellas. Sometimes it is difficult to tell one restaurant from the next, but who cares? It’s more about the ambience, and the ability to be a part of the community. The little butcher shops are loud with friendly employees chatting with the customers and customers chatting with each other. The organized chaos of the bakery is a sight to behold as you wait in line, sometimes out the door, to purchase the still warm baguettes or our favorite, chocolate croissants. I still don’t know how the staff or other patrons keep straight who is next in line but I have never felt slighted or ignored. You can hear the echo of children’s laughter bouncing off the buildings while they play on the playground (found in almost every plaza), a signal that the importance of kids in the community equation is not forgotten. At restaurants, people seem to linger over their meals engulfed in conversation. The wait staff leaves you alone until you signal your need for something. Perhaps it is because they are not solely concerned about tips and possess an understanding that the food is secondary.

Quinn standing in front of fountain — Fountain at Park Ciutadella

Párc de la Ciutadella is a large park that is located just at the edge of the El Born district and Barceloneta. It houses the zoo, several museums, fountains, a lake and many nature trails. The community feeling is palpable here, too. There are groups of people greeting each other with kisses on each cheek, chatting, playing music or just lounging in the grass. I don’t know why this seems so foreign to me as you can probably find this scene in many parks all around the world but for some reason it feels different here. It seems to come from the energy of creativity that I can feel as I watch the group of tap dancers in a raised pavilion trading rhythms with each other and the many different artists drawing crowds by their African drumming, juggling or unicycle riding. Maybe it is the group of young men doing tricks on their slack lines who take notice Mackenzie’s interest and convince her to hop on and try that makes community feel different and more approachable here.

Many of the artists in the parks are just practicing their gifts while others are trying to earn money. My favorite community-building entrepreneurs are the bubble-makers. These folks have made giant bubble wands out of two sticks connected by several loops of thick string. They dip the loops into their tub of soapy water and then gracefully pull it through the air letting the breeze make big beautiful bubbles that draw every child within a 2-acre radius to them. The hat of the bubble-maker sits nonchalantly on the dirt next to them awaiting the loose change of the on-looking parents, who are smiling at their children and sharing the joy of this scene with each other.

These wandering observations get my mind to thinking about the people we love back in Colorado. Like those conversations I overhear in the plazas as we pass through, I can hear myself engaged in loud conversations with my girlfriends over wine and tapas. The wish to be shopping with my mom and sister or sharing the amazement of Gaudi’s architecture with my Dad floats through my mind with each day’s discoveries. My youngest, Quinn, has been tearful the last couple of days. She says she is missing her family at home. Mackenzie is less expressive of her homesickness, but I know she misses her friends and family too.

The holidays could be the culprit of the blues; my kids have always been surrounded by lots of family at Christmastime. December 23^rd marked the third-month anniversary of our departure; perhaps it is the “three-month blues”. My therapist persona speaks to me and reassures me that these cravings for home are a normal part of being away. If it weren’t, there wouldn’t be so many songs written on the subject. Emotion rises and falls, this is its natural pattern. I haven’t read every travel article out there yet but those I have say nothing about this part. Maybe I’m weird. Maybe other traveling families do not experience these same emotions.

Are we are all getting sick of spending everyday together with no one else to provide different stimulation? However, even as I contemplate that question I have the laughter of Mackenzie and Jacob reverberating in my ears from their recent stop-in-front-of-each-other-while-walking game. Their bond is deepening beyond measure. I know Jacob is starved for this kind of connection after graduate school and work took up much of his time for the last 6 years. Travel articles may not talk much about the occasional feelings of isolation but they do talk about the family bonding, or “travel-bonding.” The constant togetherness with little or no break has given us time to build on the friendship part of the parent-child and sister relationships. Planning itineraries, solving problems, sharing in amazements as a family has created a self-confidence in our daughters that is truly breathtaking to watch. They move through the metro, putting their tickets in the machine, leading us to the right station with heads high, shoulders back and eyes bright. Jacob and I share the knowing that we created this space for us all and that brings us closer too.

The world is not all butterflies and roses nor is it all wasps and weeds.

We can hold both the light and the dark. I can teach my kids to hold both too. Hold both the desire to see Omi and Popa or Grandma and Grandpa AND the desire to walk through the amazing Sagrada Familia or the Catacombs of Paris. The lesson of living with ambivalence is priceless and strengthens our psyche. Right now, as I write this I am acknowledging the longing, holding it, comforting it and when my girls feel it too, I get to physically comfort that and then give our family a call; to reestablish those connections that fuel us and strengthen us. Then we get to feel the excitement of our upcoming trip to Paris. Make a plan of what we will see, where we will stay, people we will meet and what we will eat. Maybe my longing is not so much to be home, but to have the people at home with us, sharing these experiences too.

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