miracle(s)

The Maldives: Mythical and magical (and a miracle). It really is a miracle that we made it here to the Maldives. Our van broke down about two hours from the the airport on our way to catch our international flight out of Entebbe. And after Benson declared, "we cannot reach" (prepositions are considered unnecessary), he turned the car around and drive to the nearest town to find mechanics. An hour and a half (and literally pipe-hitting) later, we were on the road again yet this time weary of any successful departure. We had not checked in. We had bags to check. And this was an international flight requiring early airport arrival-- all obstacles in the making. As expected, things were far from smooth.

First, out driver didn't know where the departure section of the airport was, so he inched in as we pointed and urged. Then, when we arrived where signs had indicated, there were barricades and an officer stopping us, saying, "Ambassadors only". He finally let us through and we began our hurried run, but not after telling Benson to wait in case we missed our flight and needed to get a ride to a hotel. Sure enough, after making it through the ill-marked (or rather, unmarked) airport, we found our way upstairs and, after being told "your flight is closed", Jonathan ran downstairs again to find Benson to tell him. He was gone. Meanwhile, I stayed upstairs to figure out our next options with the agent. It was 4:50. Our flight started boarding at 4:40 and we had yet to get boarding passes, check our bags, go through customs and go through security. The woman helping us was on the phone. "Fred, there are two to the Maldives... Ok... Two to three weeks." Her conversation was short and we, standing helpless to her words and command, could only hear half of the conversation. Two to three weeks? Fred! Help us out!

After much typing and many calls and us begging to make accepting, Fred called back. She got off the phone, us waiting in her mercy. "Go quickly to the entrance to meet Fred. He can help you." What?! Miracle 1. "Thank you," I yelled, running out the door, already 50 steps behind Jonathan. "Don't thank me yet," she yelled back. Fred hooked us up. We don't know why or how but somehow we got our passports checked, boarding passes, bags checked (despite our requests to carry on for fear of them not making it), and got through customs and security.

As we stood at the gate we saw our two lone bags being whisked out to the plane. They're on! Miracle 2. So we're here, not back in Africa, not dead on arrival (the cynical side of me thought, with turbulence, that our plane would crash and perhaps we weren't meant to be on that flight), and not only were we not killed but we didn't kill each other in the process. Miracle 3. "Calm under pressure," we high-fived. It was inevitable in a trip of this length, to the non-easy destinations we chose, that there would be challenges we would encounter. And we did, but not until the end of Africa. And we weathered it fine!

Traveling abroad is like having a roommate: you might be best friends and get along perfectly but then when you live together you discover you're on different schedules, have different degrees (or definitions) of cleanliness, and find yourselves at each others' throats constantly (or if you're passive aggressive, you find yourself boiling and wanting to be at their throat). Similarly, traveling exposes different speeds and different degrees or definitions of "planned". And like the tropical storm outside, we have escaped and weathered it really well. We have very similar interests and speeds and are both flexible enough to go along with what the other wants or fine with saying, "no you go", and parting ways. In Africa and in Massachusetts, Jonathan and I did everything together, prompting him to ask, "did you miss me?" when, for the first time in three weeks, when he surfed and I stand-up paddle boarded (SUPed), we were apart.

Our days in Africa after the safari were less exciting, but not less beautiful. We stopped on our way north for lunch at Volcanoes Lodge, a property with only three rooms in the hills that edge the plateau which makes up the park. It was stunning. An old coffee factory, it had a trendy, stylish designer's touch, and because they had no guests at the time, they permitted us to lounge for hours, which we did on their veranda-- me drinking cold South African wine-- and eat the best steak we have had. We were sad to leave but were escorted out with salutations, "You are welcome to come again." Yes please.! We were off to the Rwenzori mountains to do yet another hike. We hated our accommodations (though anything in comparison to our lunch spot was less than exciting) and the "nature walk" the next day, which we were given very little details on prior to embarking, turned out to be 5-7 hours of hiking 8 miles and 5,000 feet. Talk about testing a relationship. Jonathan doesn't like to hike and, though at the beginning of the hike when I said "thanks for doing this" he replied "I'm glad if it makes you happy", by the middle he had changed his words to expletives. Rut roh. Not a happy hiker and he had reason to be. On our descent from Karisimbi, Rwanda's tallest peak at almost 15,000 feet, which we had summited during our time in Volcans National Park, wreaked havoc on his knees, and even stairs since were painful. So another "nature walk" of this calibre was less than desirable for him. It turns out the hike was less than desirable for me, too. The peak was shrouded in so any views of Queen Elizabeth and the towns at the base of the large Rwenzori chain was obscured. So all that effort and fuss was not even made up for by a stellar view. Fortunately, our lodge the following night more than provided that. Perched on a ridge at the edge of a small lake, Kyaninga Lodge steps it's way up the spine in thatched punctuations through the trees. Each bungalow, and there are only eight, is among the tree tops, causing us to forgo our scheduled and booked chimp trekking the following day for just a day of relaxing in such a lovely spot. While having our breakfast on the porch the next morning we were treated to our own monkey viewing; Corbis monkeys jumped and screeched in the tree just 150 meters from our porch. And because resting is not a word J and I are familiar with, we are our way down to the lake for a quick dip before lunch.

The lodge was absolutely amazing, as Sandra had recommended, and we were disappointed that our itinerary only included one night there (despite us confirming and paying for an itinerary with two nights... don't get us started). Fortunately we had another highly recommended lodge for our next night, one which Sandra and Sharlene weighed the merits of equally when they were providing advice. Ndali lodge also sits atop a spine, with lakes on both sides, and has more of a "homey", "garden" feel. We loved that there was little to no electricity, necessitating kerosene lights in the evening, and loved the cozy "shabby chic" African decor, and the veranda where breakfast was served. Unfortunately our impression was marred upon arrival by the jumping and squealing of happy children (do we sound like devils for saying that?)! While a happy child is a happy sight and sound USUALLY, it was not exactly relaxing (though their British accents singing, "Ring around the roses" was charming... the first time).

And that leads us here: the Maldives, a mythical and magical place. It is somewhat unsettling to think of this phenomenal island country, made up of 200,000 islands and spreading 400 miles square, as being only 7 feet at its maximum elevation. Maybe this is the best terrain for J's knees...

The tsunami in 2003 ravaged the island we are on, Kandooma, leading them to rebuild it entirely. It's shuddering to think of the movie we watched on our first flight out to Boston. To imagine the chaos, the damage, the fear and the tears of the island, it's structure, and it's inhabitants happened here.

It is truly magical as you fly over this almost under-water chain. Google satellite images will show you what an atoll is far better than I can describe, but recall your days of biology. Remember how the cells looked under a microscope where there were clusters of cells that would cling together to make a larger circle? But then there were many of these clusters? That's what it looks like when you fly into Male. There is a defined "edge" encircling the atoll (though the edge is made up of multiple island exteriors). And then there are little islands that appear as not-quites, reaching just shy of the waters' breaking level and thus remaining submerged. These islands are hot spots of turquoise from above, surrounded by dark, deep ocean. So as one looks from the shore, instead of a transitional darkening, you see striations of deep blue and vibrant turquoise as you scan the horizon.

These hot spots are reefs and denizens of aquatic life, a scuba diver's playground. Having just been certified in July in order to take advantage of these waters, my first real dive (outside from the frigid 40ft waters of Monterey) is tomorrow... Wish me luck!