The Real Housewives of Palm Desert

Okay, I’ve been given a good talking to from my sister Susan in that last comment. Specifically, buck up, stop whining about the trip being almost over, and keep writing. So here is another blog post from the scrubby desert of California. I will be okay and I am absolutely looking forward to seeing my family, most of whom I only see about every two years. It ain’t over yet.

We’re in Palm Desert, about an hour and a half from Los Angeles. This represents a level of luxury we have not been accustomed to over the last year (with a few minor exceptions here and there). All in all, a good way to return to North America for sure. Several swimming pools, hot tubs, a movie theatre, games room for the kids, tennis courts and a basketball court (you’d have to play at midnight, it’s way too hot to move that much), and, of course, a stunning golf course that is good to simply look at – no need to actually play on it. I’m not sure I would want to live in a place like this, however. Almost as soon as we exited the airport, I felt bombarded by billboards advertising weight loss programs, plastic surgery clinics, and cosmetic institutes. Makes a girl feel a wee bit insecure.

I realize, in contrast, how low maintenance I really am. Or maybe I became that way over this past year – but no, I think I always have been low maintenance more or less. All I need, I recently boasted to Ted, is a decent mattress and hot running water at least every other day and I’m golden. No problems. I can really go anywhere and I’m proud of that. It was actually in Samoa I had this revelation. We didn't have hot water every day but it was fine. He was reading someone’s discarded Car and Driver magazine and, without looking up, said “Hmm, yeah, okay, I guess”. And then I just waltzed away and did my own thing. You see? I don’t even need my husband to listen to me when I’m speaking. Now THAT is seriously low maintenance.

Back to Palm Desert. We had a good visit with my friend Julia (originally from Saskatoon like me), her husband Richard, and their two boys Sebastien and Justin. Julia lives in Orange County but she is most definitely not one of the real housewives. She is as down to earth and grounded as a person can be. For example, she has no fake body parts unlike many of the women I see around the pool here :) We had lunch at their place, then drove to nearby Laguna Beach and the boys got along great. Sebastien and Justin loaned their boogie boards to our guys and they all had fun in the big surf. We may have to move to be near a warm ocean someday – our boys have come to love oceans, beaches and hurling themselves into the waves.

Julia, Richard, Sebastien & Justin:

Laguna Beach:

I have to share a funny story. I was lying by the pool with the Count. I like to say that, I’m reading The Count of Monte Cristo that I snagged at a book exchange table back in Australia. It’s a monster at over 900 pages. And that is the small print edition. My friend Kerry tells me her copy has 1400 pages. The Arms Akimbo book club is reading this in memory of our time in France and we’re going to discuss it at our neighbourhood pub in August. Can’t wait.

Anyway, this woman on the lounge next to me compliments me on the little sundress that I had worn into the pool area over my swimsuit. I am feeling like I really don’t want to engage in conversation with her because she has unnaturally white teeth, huge fake breasts, and what looks to me like a perfect spray-on tan. She asks me, where did I get it? Did I get it at the Outlet Mall? No, I got it at a beach in Thailand actually. Really? She seems mildly amused by this. They have shops right on the beach? Well, kind of, I explain. Actually a guy just walks up and down the beach with an armful of dresses and he lays them out on the sand and you pick one you like. Really? She says again. We’ve been talking for all of 30 seconds and she has exhausted her vocabulary already. She wants to know how much it cost me, as she has heard things are inexpensive there. Well, let’s see. The guy wanted 500 Baht but I think I paid 300 Baht, which I tell her is about ten dollars. Ten dollars! Really!! Oh I wish I could afford a trip to Thailand, she says, that dress is just so cute! Not to sound nasty but I’m thinking, hmmm, let’s do the math here. Add up those implants (thousands no doubt), factor in your teeth whitening dental bills (hundreds possibly), and your fitness membership and your expensive clothes and those superfluous rings on your fingers and what kind of car do you drive again? Probably not a Corolla, probably a BMW or something. A car is just a tool to get you from Point A to Point B. It’s not supposed to be a fashion accessory but that’s just the low maintenance inner me speaking again.

I guess I’m sounding nasty so I’ll just stop. Point being she could very easily afford a trip to Thailand – she could even afford to live there for an extended time with no income in all likelihood, simply by downgrading her lifestyle. But if she’s wants to visit Thailand only for the shopping, then I’m glad she thinks she can’t afford it.

On a whim, I tell her about the Little Brown Dress project. This is a blog I stumbled onto several years back about a woman who decided to make a statement against consumerism by wearing the same brown dress for one full year. Check it out – she wrote a great journal about this time in her life and I checked in regularly all through that year. I loved it. I tell her if she wore the same dress for one full year she would save a bundle of cash and could go just about anywhere she wanted. She of the unnatural rack just shakes her head and chuckles. Why don’t people believe this?

Okay, so what else have we been up to in Palm Desert? I'll let one of our kids tell you. Mitchell has a post up his sleeve about California that he has offered to write. Please. Go for it, my boy. The blog continues. Stay with us.

Back on North American soil

We're back on North American soil, as of a few hours ago. I just want to say, if I had to pick the best airline from the many airlines we've now flown, I would vote Air New Zealand as hands-down the best. I already felt that way after our flights from Sydney to Auckland and then Auckland to Samoa. But get this - I was a bit emotional on the plane ride and doesn't a flight attendant show up at my seat, crouch down and offer me a flute of champagne on a tray (!) That is service.

Why upset, you ask? Isn't it obvious? It's over folks. We will still have a great time here at the Intrawest resort in Palm Desert - I will see my old high school friend Julia and meet her family - and I will see my Mom and most of my many siblings that are spread throughout Western Canada. We will have an entire month to traverse Canada and parts of the U.S. on the way back to Ottawa, seeing our own country, as we should. But just speaking for myself, I am really drawn to the far-away places, the overseas travel. And I don't know when I will get to do that again. I was a bit concerned that I kept pressing Lenny Kravitz' "Fly Away" repeatedly on my iPod during the course of this recent plane ride. If I'm feeling I need to fly away already, what will I feel like a few months from now?

A quick update on Stephanie, the German girl. On Monday, the German embassy was at her hospital room. I think the hotel owner took her bags from Young Henry, fished out her passport, and got the embassy involved. I guess once the embassy has her full name, it's a simple matter to track down next of kin. We also ran into the med student staying at the hotel just as we were leaving for the airport. He said he dropped in to visit her and to read her chart and he feels she's getting better and should be back in Germany within 5 days. Thank God!

Farewell Samoa

Today is our last day in Samoa. We fly to Los Angeles tonight on an overnight flight. Heavy sigh. Beautiful place, beautiful people. The best part was sharing several outings with Klaus, the Danish owner of the hotel we’re at, and his family. They know all the best spots to go and having a glimpse into their exotic (so it seems to me) life has been fun. We spent all day yesterday, Father’s Day, at a beach and they treated us to a great BBQ. At one point, it started to rain but since little fales (huts) dot every beach, we were able to grab the food and dash inside. Very cosy. They also took us to another waterfall – this one tame enough that kids can jump into it. And so they did, over and over.

Some drama around the hotel these days. A young German girl and her English traveling companion have been staying in a hut on the property. The young English guy (Henry, I’ve taken to calling him Young Henry) is quite a character – I would liken him to an 18 year old version of Keith Richards. He tells us he was kicked out of boarding school when he was 16 and has been traveling ever since. Stephanie, the young German girl, has been trying valiantly to keep up with his general recklessness and heavy partying ways. Young Henry brags to us about how he can put away a litre of vodka a night. Yes, we say to him, but why would you want to? Apparently they did the “how much vodka can you drink” thing for 6 days straight.

A couple of days ago, Stephanie appeared particularly hung over at breakfast. We later found out she was taken to hospital and she is still there today (Monday) due to severe gastritis related to over-use of alcohol. I'm not 100% certain I have this diagnosis right - it's all second and third-hand information. There is some problem now with her pancreas and a doctor who happens to be staying here saw her in hospital and says she will need surgery. They are trying to arrange to get her transported out of Samoa, either to New Zealand or back to Germany. I keep asking, has anyone called her parents? They need to know. No-one seems to know this contact information and Young Henry, though concerned about Stephanie, seems unconcerned about making this parental connection. Time to get the German embassy involved. She is awake for only a few minutes at a time and is hooked up to IVs as she has not been able to keep even water down. Of course, Klaus has been running around trying to help out in this situation. Maybe the life of an inn-keeper on a tropical South Pacific island is not always as glamorous as it looks. I, for one, will just be relieved if we can hear definitively before we leave that Stephanie’s family has been made aware of her situation.

Some last photos of Samoa:

Now if we could only get him to try it in cursive:

Fun to climb these gigantic tree roots:

It's just one potential screensaver after another:

Having our BBQ inside the cosy beach fale:

Mitchell, the Tarzan boy, getting ready to jump into the next waterfall level:

Mitch & Jackson preparing for a jump. Klaus is in there urging them to go for it:

We'll miss the Samoan Outrigger Hotel. Just this once I may actually get online to TripAdvisor and leave a review. Even though we've had lots of positive hotel/hostel experiences, I've just never bothered before:

Mitch working on his trip journal by the pool. He is up to 40 typed pages and that is single-spaced. Wow!

We took in a traditional Samoan show one evening (they're doing the Haka warrior dance):

Hey Shambo, are you looking for this? (Warning: if you never saw the Shambo/ chicken episode of Survivor Samoa this will make absolutely no sense):

Samoa for Lowa

Beach used for Survivor Samoa:
We doing Samoa for lowa
‘Cause the mothah and the faddah
say the money ain’t no mowa

Talofa! We’ve only been in Samoa for a week but already we’re rapping like the locals. In Auckland, we had been walking down the main street when a city bus went by with a large ad plastered on its side. It said “Samoa for Lowa”, advertising some vacation package deal. So Mitchell started repeating “Samoa for lowa” in his best gangsta style and this little rap kind of morphed out by the end of that walk. Anyway, it makes us laugh especially when he follows it with a fist bump to the little bro and downward peace sign to finish it off with flair. It’s kind of sad as well because it’s actually true. Not only are we running out of time but our self-funded leave money really is no more . . . I mean, no mowa.

I don’t want to write about how melancholy I’ve been lately, contemplating the end of this amazing year. I’ll try to stay upbeat for now and focus on Samoa. To me, the trip essentially ends after Samoa because I can’t really think of the US and Canada as anything other than home turf. I think Ted and Jackson are really looking forward to the return home, but Mitchell at least shares some of my pain. He often tells me he doesn’t want to go home, he wants to keep traveling. He definitely has the wanderlust bug. My bad. Or good, depending whose opinion you ask.

Back to Samoa. (Bear with me, this is going to be a lengthy post. Remember this is my virtual scrapbook and I want to record everything so I can re-read it when I am still depressed this time next year). Western Samoa is yet another stunning corner of the world, with lush green rainforests, waterfalls, volcanic mountains, black sand beaches and lava fields, not to mention the now taken-for-granted turquoise ocean just to complete the colour scheme. It reminds me of that classic quote by St. Augustine: “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page”. I'm loving the Samoa page.

Random gorgeous scenery:


Random cute Samoan kid:

We’re staying at a place called the Samoan Outrigger in Apia, the capital city on the main island of Upolo. Western Samoa is made up of two large islands and a few tiny ones scattered nearby. The other main island is Savaii. We rented a car for a few days and did a circuit on the coast roads around both islands. It’s hard to get inland but worth the effort – there is one cross-island road on Upolo and this drive rewarded us with more beautiful scenery including waterfall after waterfall and green mountains shrouded with low-lying clouds. We had hoped to see the famous blow-hole display, where water shoots straight up into the air up through a lava tube, but you have to time it just right and be there at high tide. Still could happen.

Apia harbour:
Shopping for fresh fruit on a rainy morning:

Buses in Apia are always crammed full:

The owner of our hotel is a 40-something Danish guy named Klaus. He’s a very interesting guy and we’ve been hanging out a bit with him, his Samoan wife Lianna and their two young kids. Klaus was a banker in Denmark and, as you might imagine, really loved that life (sarcasm intended). About 15 or 20 years ago, he went on a diving trip with a buddy for 4 months all over the South Pacific. He tells us they just hopped around from island to island in search of good diving. Apparently, he had a blast (surprise, surprise). Anyway, he went back to his banking life after that trip and could not settle back down (uh-oh, you see where this is heading don’t you?). Long story short, he asked for another leave, which he was granted, but ended up resigning from Samoa. Eventually, he met his future Samoan wife, opened the Outrigger while also working as a diving instructor on the side, and the rest is history. To me, he is an example of the right type of person to run a business like the one he has. He genuinely loves hosting people and showing them around.

One day he took all of us to a tucked-away waterhole called the Piula Cave Pool. This is the clearest, coldest water to be found in Samoa. Very refreshing on these hot, muggy days. You can swim into a small cave, which happens to be underneath a church, and if you’re very brave (or an Aussie), you will dive down in the pitch black water with a flashlight, find a tunnel that passes to another cave, hold your breath and go for it, emerging victorious in a different cave. Either that, or your dead bloated body will surface in one or the other caves eventually. Just kidding. I wish I could tell you we did this dive but we did not have a flashlight so it really didn’t seem wise. It also reminded me of a certain chapter in the novel The Beach, where the main character (I forget his name) almost dies doing something very similar in Thailand.

Piula Cave Pool:

Klaus and his kids:

Love this photo:

Jackson in mid-leap:
We spent one afternoon visiting the former home of Robert Louis Stevenson. The author of Treasure Island (inspired by Samoa), Kidnapped, and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, lived in Samoa for 4 or 5 years just before his death at the age of 44. He moved here because he thought the climate would alleviate symptoms of his tuberculosis.

Portrait of the famous author in his dining room:

After catching a ferry to Savaii, we headed to the north end to a place where you can swim with turtles. This was a definite highlight for Jackson. He has developed a real thing for turtles over this year. Back in France, there was a family in St. Papoul who had a couple of pet tortoises and these tortoises fascinated him. To work on his writing, I had told him we could write a little book together on any topic he chose. He chose turtles and tortoises, and spent a lot of time finding facts about them on the Internet, summarizing one or two facts per page, doing illustrations, etc. So to be able to swim with large sea turtles up close and feed them fresh papaya (which they seem to love) was a real treat. Next time you see Jackson, you can ask him what are the key differences between turtles and tortoises - that is, if you have 10-15 minutes to spare.

Ferry between Upolo and Savaii:

The ferry was really swaying that day and we all felt slightly green around the gills:

No Gravol with me so all I can offer is a hug:

Sea turtle enclosure:

Getting up close and personal:

We also took in another foreign sporting event – this has become a bit of a theme for the boys as well. It started with the New York Yankees and spread to Barcelona FC in Spain and the Yomiuri Giants in Tokyo. Now we can add the Manu Samoa Rugby team to the list. Last Saturday, we watched them narrowly defeat the Tonga team as part of the Pacific Nations Cup. This Saturday, Samoa plays Japan so we may be there but who to root for? Here’s one surprising observation from the game: at the risk of making a sweeping generalization, the Samoans are a very happy people and they laughed all through the game. Every error committed, every lost scoring opportunity provokes these huge belly laughs. They also cheer wildly no matter who scores. Kind of confusing at first.

We visited a local church on Sunday morning. I could not believe how welcoming the Samoan people were. Of course, we stuck out like sore thumbs. They made a big deal introducing us from the pulpit, telling us they rarely had foreign visitors. We especially enjoyed the singing – Samoans can really sing and the service went on for 3 hours! I also loved the taxi driver we had that day. When I first hopped into the cab, I launched into my description of where we wanted to go, not knowing any precise street names. He held up his hand and said “Yes, yes, I know da place. But first, miss, I need to say some ting to you. (Pause). (Wide smile). Welcome to my ride.” I loved that. Welcome to my riiiide. Complete with a piece of shag carpet on the dashboard and all kinds of doo-dads hanging from his rear view mirror. I told him I was going to use that line back home next time I give a friend a lift somewhere.

Last but not least, a personal highlight for me (being a die-hard Survivor fan), was visiting the actual site where Survivor Samoa was filmed. This is on private land so, with Klaus’ insider directions to the precise location, we drove to the secluded spot on the south end of the island and paid the owner 10 Tala to let us see it. We spent several hours enjoying the beach in complete privacy – not another soul anywhere. Very cool. Not quite as isolated as they portray it on TV, though. There is a little village (Matautu) a short walk away. Theoretically, the contestants could have snuck away and bought all the fish and fruit they wanted from this village less than ½ a kilometer away.

The owner of the Survivor locale - he got his 10 Tala and now he's outta here:

We bought a coconut from a man in this village who we then (having purchased the right) proceeded to pepper with questions about the show. He told us that yes, he met the contestants but had been told by the producers to please stay away (I’m sure the enterprising locals would have tried to sell the contestants stuff every chance they got :). He also showed us where one particular challenge was filmed, and told us the cameras were only there two times per week. Klaus also told us he had had lunch with one of the producers and he scoffed at the way Samoa was portrayed as some wild land full of savages. Ah, Hollywood.

Our coconut-selling friend hamming it up with Flat Stanley:

The name of the actual Survivor locale is Return to Paradise Beach, I kid you not. It did seem like paradise and yeah, I would definitely return to it.


Area of coastline most affected by recent 2009 tsunami:

This small island was once a leper colony:

Re-building beach fales after the tsunami:
Eating cold pizza in a hammock under a beach fale - does life get any better than this?:

Sea turtle & Survivor beach videos:

Travel Day 326: Kiwi Tour - Part III

Our motoring excursion around the north island of New Zealand has taken us over 1200km from Auckland and back traveling clockwise to the east coast, through the middle, and on and up the west coast. After Rotorua, we drove though the central lake town of Lake Taupo and on to Napier. Our daytime drives were at a leisurely pace, never exceeding four or five hours – something I enjoy very much.

Napier is the east coast town that is known for its faithful and well-preserved Art Deco architecture. In the early 1930’s Napier was hit by a major earthquake that devastated the town. The buildings that didn’t fall by result of the tremors burned to the ground in the ensuing fires. Over two hundred people died. Despite being in the middle of the world depression, the town was rebuilt. It was all rebuilt in the same time period in the years that followed. The streets were widened and the buildings erected had a similar look of the era. It’s been well preserved in the few blocks of the core from that time. We enjoyed a stroll around the area. It was particularly quiet even for a Saturday afternoon because it is the winter season.

Art Deco building and main street in Napier:

We stayed at another backpacker hostel. It’s very cold at night right now. It’s the kind of place that you meet fellow travelers from all around the globe sitting in the warmth of the common lounge. The employee hosts here were German and so were some of the guests.

Next we traveled inland through Palmerston North, through the very picturesque Hawke's Bay Winery region, and on to the west coast town of Wanganui.

Entrance to Mission Estate Winery, near Napier-Hastings, lined with plane trees. We thought we were in France for a second - old plane trees lined the Canal du Midi in much the same way:

The town of Wanganui on the west coast seemed to strike the right chord with us. We decided almost right away to stay two nights. The Tamara Backpackers’ Lodge where we stayed had the right feel. A big bright room, a nice kitchen to prepare meals in, and a dining room and lounge. The host employee was Canadian.

Beautiful old Edwardian building where we stayed in Wanganui - great, high-ceilinged rooms and a big, well-equipped kitchen so we could make our own meals:

Dinner at our guesthouse:

Wanganui is known for its artists and artisans, and teaching of arts. In particular, it is known for glass and glass blowing. We took in a local artists studio and gallery in the downtown area called the Chronicle Glass Studio.

Picturesque restored main street of Wanganui:

Observing the students at work at the Chronicle Glass Art studio in Wanganui:

In addition, we drove the river road north along the Wanganui River some 200 km in a circuit that brought us back to town. The road is a winding road along the river path that at times is high and other times low along the valley. It is the quintessential beautiful New Zealand scenery. The hills and the roads were cast with the many farm animals. It had rained in the previous days and night resulting in some rock and mudslides along the road. We encountered several that seemed to have only freshly occurred.

Lots of animal sightings along the River Road (did you know there are 35 sheep to every person - during lambing season - in NZ?):

One of several rock slides we encountered:

Wanganui has its own little controversy as we discovered. The name is a traditional Maori name. The Maori spelling would have an h after the w. This changes the pronunciation as well. One local New Zealander woman who was operating the observatory lift on the hill overlooking town got indignant when we asked whether or not the pronunciation was ‘wanganuee’ or as the more indigenous Maori would pronounce it ‘fanganuee’. Anyway, to me it seems that the latter would be more correct.

Scenery along the gorgeous Wanganui River Road:

Next we ventured up the beautiful west coast for New Plymouth and beyond to Waitomo. The surf was rolling in high at New Plymouth. A sole surfer in his wet suit plied the waves and looked to be quite experienced.

Surfer in the Tasman Sea near New Plymouth:

We rolled into Waitomo around 4:00pm and checked into a place called Juno Hall, another hostel. This place was well equipped with the kitchen and had a homey, alpine lodge feel to the lounge complete with wood burning stove. It was sorely needed on this night, one of the coldest of this winter so far. The employee host here was also a Canadian from BC - in between commitments.

By 4:30 we made it to the Waitomo caves. The caves are home to a glowworm, arachanocampa luminosa, similar to those that can be found in other places in the world, but unique to New Zealand. The caves are the result of underground river flows. The local river still flows through the caverns. We toured the caves, in part, by foot and then deep into a blackened hole of a cave in a small fishing type boat. In the eerie silence one gets a pretty good look at, and an amazing show from the lit tail of the hundreds of glowworms that dot the ceiling. They only move when they turn into flies and then have a life span of several months. From their tails they drop a thread like web that catches their pray, mosquitoes mostly, that follow the breezes that go with the river flow.

No photography was allowed inside the caves but we pulled this one off Google images to show what the interior looked like:Our last night in Auckland was a quiet one of dinner in and some TV at a lodge near the airport. The next morning we left Auckland at 7:00 AM for Apia, Samoa.

TE