Deep in the heart of San Juan’s Old Town, there are about a dozen churches scattered throughout. For church fanatics like me, it is a dream come true! Many are decently sized, but there is a compact one, a chapel, built on the city’s ancient stone walls.
One of the most photographed, the tiny Capilla del Santo Cristo de la Salud is located at the south end of Calle del Cristo. Constructed in 1753, the chapel is oft visited by locals and tourists alike and sits beside the Parque de Palomas, a gated park overlooking San Juan Harbor.
Many times, I have visited Old Town and walked past the chapel never to find it open. On this particular Sunday, however, luck was on my side as I learned it is only open on Sundays and particular holy days.
Legend has it that many years ago, there were horse races on Calle del Cristo. One of the riders, Baltazar Montanez, was galloping through the city at such a breakneck speed, he could not stop in time and tumbled over the city wall to his death. To commemorate his demise and prevent a similar occurrence, the chapel was built on the site.
Little did anyone realize how many visitors would descend upon the Chapel of the Holy Christ of Health to pray for cures and miracles. Tens of thousands come to the site, which contains a silver and gold leaf altar surrounded by oil paintings by Puerto Rican artist Jose Campeche and tiny silver milagros, which represent ailing parts of the body. But it is not just those of human form who come…there are hundreds of pigeons who descend upon its roof and front plaza!
The church is cared for by a group of local women, volunteers called “La Hermandad del Santo Cristo de la Salud” and you can care for the pigeons on your visit with birdseed available for purchase!
Truly one of the religious gems of the Old Town!
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Capilla del Santo Cristo de la Salud (Chapel of the Holy Christ of Health)
Covid 19 was something we didn’t see coming. It literally stopped us in our tracks.
Being in the travel industry, it prohibited me from doing my job as people were allowed to travel only for essential purposes only. While I could have remained employed, just getting to and from work proved to be problematic and it was easier to remain home.
After a year of lockdowns, however, things were starting to open up in the world and people were ready to put their toes in the water once again. Not able to travel across the pond, as Europe still wasn’t ready to welcome Americans, there were other locations that were eager to crack their doors…with a few restrictions.
As for me? I was ready to get back out there and return to work!
While many passengers weren’t even ready to sit for eight or nine hours in a metal tube with others whose inoculation status they were unsure of, they were willing to take shorter flights. Hence, the islands of the Caribbean became their go-to spot as evidenced by overbooked flights even with mandated tests to enter and depart.
Finding myself with a long layover in San Juan, I was a little unsure of what I would experience in the Puerto Rico capital during these first few months. Hearing stories of curfews and numerous restrictions, I packed my bathing suit, suntan lotion some just-in-case meal options and prayed that at least the beaches would remain open.
When I arrived, what I found at my bustling resort were pools and beaches filled to capacity with everyone happy and eager to enjoy the great outdoors and their first, in many cases, vacations in a pandemic world.
So, what would that mean when I left the resort and ventured into one of my very favorite places, Old San Juan?
Old San Juan, known for its cobblestoned streets, colorful Spanish colonial buildings and massive 16th century forts, bars and restaurants is also a busy cruise port which yields millions of dollars in revenue for the island along with millions of visitors. With no cruise ships docked at the piers and none of those passengers walking the streets, how was the old town faring?
As I watched the passing architecture from my Uber’s window, I wondered what it would be like making my way through the old town area…would shops, attractions and restaurants be open? My research had shown yes, to a degree, but just how many visitors would I encounter in the normally crowded city and how difficult would it be to wear a mask in the hot, humid climate, even outside, as was mandated?
As my driver dropped me off at Plaza Colon, the first thing I noticed was that many restaurants were not open and the ones that were, were closing fairly early. There would be none of the casual browsing in the countless shops as each only allowed three persons inside at a time, with lines slinking up the adjacent sidewalks. But the crowds one normally encounters, were not there.
Wandering the charming narrow streets, I fell into my normal routine of photographing the beauty that surrounded me. I rather enjoyed not having to wait for a group of tourists to pass so that I could get my photograph and when I finally decided to partake in Happy Hour, there were tables readily available.
I must admit, however, the mask was difficult. It was extremely hot, aggravated my asthma and I was not accustomed to wearing it for such long durations, especially in the outdoors.
Nevertheless, happy to be out and about, I made my way through the city, enjoying the architecture and city’s highlights.
Though I realized the impact of not having the number of visitors that the city was usually accustomed, it wasn’t too bad for me. If it weren’t for the masks, I could have been lost in my reacquaintance with the city, enjoying its sights and sounds. However, if I could have forgotten about the mask’s hinderance on my breathing, I think my overall experience would have been hiked up more than a notch. But there was definitely no forgetting…
I was sure to be reminded by some of Old San Juan’s landmarks.
Plaza de Armas
Yes, this was Puerto Rico…pandemic style!
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Many may remember Grimsvotn, the volcano that caused havoc in Iceland in 2011. Disrupting air travel, not only in Iceland, but throughout Europe for the better part of a week, due to the enormous amount of ash it spewed into the air, it suddenly went dormant a short time later.
After ten years, the problems it caused was still fresh in many people’s minds when Fagradalsfjall began rumbling. Located only twenty miles from the city center, it made world headlines and airlines wondered what havoc this new volcano might wreak within their airspace and beyond.
Realizing that I would be visiting Iceland, a friend and I decided that we would rent a car and hike the area to watch the birth of this new volcano. While waiting for our arrival covid tests, we struck up a conversation with our van driver. He asked if seeing Fagradalsfjall was in our plans…much like every visitor…but suggested that we call one of the other drivers to take us. It seems that two other groups that arrived before us had arranged for this driver, Kat, to drive them out to the site in a large multi-passenger van. Since we were not much into the idea of all of the hassles of renting a car, we decided to check with her also when we arrived at the hotel.
A quick call to both Kat and the person in charge of the other two groups, confirmed my friend’s and my seats, along with a couple of others from our own group. After a short nap and the receipts of our negative tests by text, we were gathered in the lobby ready for our adventure.
The drive was not extremely long but not quite as picturesque as I remembered other parts of Iceland. As we turned into the parking lot, I wondered what the hike would be like, spying the many visitors making their way up the inclined rocky path. The wind was kicking as we exited the van and we quickly posed for a group shot…since so many of us didn’t know the others, we though it prudent to have a record of who was making their way into this vast unknown.
No, not really!
We just thought we would do a “before” and “after” shot!
Soon into our journey, it became apparent who was going to lead the pack and who would be finishing last. I already mentioned the steep inclined path…did I mention the wind? Yes, and it was worse as we made our way up the hillside. It was evident that I could not keep up with those who were a good twenty years younger (or more), but there were a couple that were behind us. After feeling like the leaders were always having to wait for us, we told them to keep moving and we would make our way in our own time. We were all anxious to make our destination, but it wasn’t a race.
About forty-five minutes into our hike, we finally got our first glimpse of Fagradalsfjall behind its lava field. It was making a commotion in the distance, but the best shot was achieved by our captain who caught it from this distance at its angriest!
Continuing around a hill, we spied another lava field on our right. Attempts at keeping the lava contained were obvious, but I would guess that would be a losing battle in the end.
Finally, we came to a large peak. This would be the final push to the best viewing area nearest to the volcano. Now, if we thought the winds were bad before, that was nothing compared to what was happening on this climb. I grew up in Louisiana, so I am no stranger to the hurricanes and tropical storms that descend upon my home state during their season. These winds definitely mirrored those of a strong tropical storm or even the beginnings of a category 1 hurricane. The gusts were so strong at times that we could only take a few steps at a time and then have to stand firmly in place, often squatting to avoid being pushed off of our feet. It was slow going, but eventually, the five of us who brought up the rear, made it to join the others who had been enjoying the show.
The best part…they had brought beer!
Fagradalsfjall was putting on a great display of emotion. For some reason, I related to the volcano as a “she” and I thought that she was in a fury, only to be calmed to a semi-agitated state. Lava spewed violently from her cone every twenty minutes or so and then flowed like a river down into the valley below us. Smoke and steam filled the air, at times obscuring the view.
We enjoyed our beer and rested our feet and I could only imagine how much more resplendent she would be during the darkened hours of night. Other friends had made the hike a few days before ours, however, after realizing the difficulty I had during the day, I was glad that we had tackled it the way we had. Only one thing could be worse than our climb up here…the climb back down! Of course, I was correct in my assumptions as I watched people knocked off of their feet on the path.
But what comes up must eventually come down and that would be the five of us, once again, bringing up the rear. We helped each other as much as we could, giving physical assistance and words of encouragement and finally, we all made it down that rocky gradient, with the only casualty being my hat, which was blown away to Greenland.
I knew there were some tough parts ahead, but most of it was downhill this time around and we took our time, even stopping to touch the cooled lava rock and pose for pictures.
Tired and bedraggled, we dealt with the final stretch of the journey back to our van and “what the mountain taketh away, the mountain giveth”…I found a nice 66degreeNorth hat to replace mine that was snatched so forcefully! Of course, I needed to wash it first!
You know that pictures we said we would take together when we all made it back? Yeah…that didn’t happen. There were those that were frozen from having the lack of adequate clothing, warming up on the bus and refusing to set foot outside.
Anyhow, we had come and we had conquered and seen Fagradalsfjall.
After a quick pitstop in town, for restrooms and more beer, we headed back around the rear of the volcano area. Kat had decided to take us to the Krysuvik Geothermal Springs. A steamy, bubbling place reminded us of our trips to the Blue Lagoon, however, these hot springs were not for bathing, nor did they smell all that great, unless you love the smell of rotten eggs. Still, we made our way on the wooden walkways to enjoy the beauty of Iceland one last time, relishing in the fact that it was now after nine o’clock and still not dark.
Many of my friends made their way to the natural wonder that is Fagradalsfjall after our journey, but many did not get to enjoy it as we did. I have heard that the lava flow obstructed that last peak which gave the closest and most fantastic views of the eruptions. Others still encountered weather worse than we did and had to turn back. While I thought it one of the toughest things I have ever physically attempted, I am so glad that we were able to do it when we did and with the people we did it with. Yes, we didn’t all stay together, but in the end, we all did it and saw Fagradalsfjall during its glory!
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Within a mile from Madrid’s Plaza Espana stand many notable architectural masterpieces.
These include the notable Royal Palace of Madrid, home to the Kings of Spain from Charles III to Alfonso XIII, a popular tourist venue in the Spanish capital.
If your interests, however, lie in the palaces where the lesser members of royalty reside(d), you can also find the Palace of the Duke of Infatado and the Liria Palace in the area.
The Liria Palace, located only a few blocks from my hotel, caught my attention as it was described not only as the residence of the Duke of Alba but also as an art museum.
Heading there in the late afternoon for its reopening at four o’clock, I paid my admission and joined three others to receive our audio guides and join our host. Dismayed to see a sign stating that photos were not allowed except of the exterior, I vowed to be as sneaky as I could to capture at least a few things on film.
Ticket Office
Although not being allowed to capture the beauty of this royal residence was disappointing enough, I soon discovered that although my audio guide was in my native tongue, the tour guide would only be speaking Spanish! Well, I haven’t been studying the language for the past year and a half for nothing!
Making our way to the front of the neoclassical palace and entering through the front double doors, we began to watch a short film on the palace’s history. Again…in Spanish, but my studies are paying off because I understood a great deal.
After the film’s completion, we followed our guide up the magnificent staircase to the second level and paused to listen to the narration describing each of the artistic pieces that graced the landings and nooks and crannies.
Following our guide, we then made our way from room to room on the ground and first floors, analyzing each’s unique features and artwork, gleaning what we could from the additional narratives that our guide contributed.
An art museum? Yes, but more of an extensive art collection set in an exquisite home. Hundreds of paintings filed the walls, highlighting intricate architectural features, and many personal photographs were displayed on desks and mantles. Of particular interest was the library, home to more than 18,000 prints, including the first edition of Don Quixote and the largest collection of handwritten manuscripts from Christopher Columbus.
The Liria palace was built in 1770 by architect Ventura Rodriguez and commissioned by James Fitz-James Stewart, the third Duke of Berwick and Duke of Liria. Over the years, the palace survived fire, losing part of its archives and the Spanish Civil War, where part of its façade was demolished. It was passed on to the House of Alba in the early 19th century and was the location where the last empress consort of the French, Eugenie de Montijo, spent her remaining days.
Today, the palace is the residence of Carlos Fitz-James Stewart, son of the 18th Duchess of Alba, and is open to the public to display its remarkable private collection of European art, including painting by Goya and Rembrandt, engravings by Durer and Van Dyck, marble and bronze sculptures from the Roman Empire to the neoclassical period as well as ceramics, armor, weapons, tapestries and empire style furniture.
While the palace is an interesting stop on Madrid’s list of countless attractions, I think it is one for those solely interested in art and the palace’s historical value. For me, the entrance fee was a bit steep, however, it was an attraction that I could squeeze in during the afternoon on my short visit. For those interested in hitting the city’s highlights, the Royal Palace is a short distance away and the city’s prestigious Museo Nacional del Prado may be the starting point for visitors whose interests lie in art. All in all, the tour was extremely informative and gave me a different insight to the residences of Spain’s royal families and for that, it was much appreciated.
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The Hollywood Walk of Fame in Los Angeles is one of the state’s top attractions.
The Walk of Fame in Madrid…a forgotten attempt at imitation.
While checking out places of interest near the Plaza de Espana in Madrid, something caught my eye! A few blocks from my hotel was the city’s own version of the iconic Hollywood attraction!
Opened in 2011, the Spanish Film Academy, wishing to pay tribute to Spanish actors, actresses and filmmakers, laid the groundwork for the installation of twenty-five stars (one for each year of the Academy’s lifetime). The site was chosen for its proximity to the “Golem” and “Renoir” cinemas and also the bookstore, “8 1/2” that specializes in cinematography, however, the site selection wasn’t without controversy. Many thought it would be better to place the “stars” on the Gran Via, a busy avenue more frequented by tourists. While the plan was to install a star per year after the initial induction, only one other was embedded in the sidewalk.
Excited to see Madrid’s cinematic tribute interpretation, I headed out to walk the few blocks to its location. Thinking that it would be easy to spot, I discovered that it was tucked away on a side street and I actually walked past it…twice.
Finally, I turned onto Calle de Martin de los Heros.
Oh, what a disappointment!
Instead of a Walk of Fame, I discovered a Walk of Shame!
Stars dedicated to Luis Buñuel (filmmaker), Pedro Almodovar (filmmaker, producer, screenwriter, former actor), Fernando Rey (actor), Penelope Cruz (actress), Javier Bardem (actor) and Antonio Banderas (actor) among others, lined one side of the street. The sidewalk was dirty, cracked and unkempt. Cigarettes were stuck into the edges of the squares and even one star, that of Luis Garcia Berlanga (director), was crossed with barrier tape. Even poor Javier Bardem’s star was missing one of its appendages!
Although I am positive that certain actors and actress are proud that their country of origin has honored them, I am sure that they are more proud of their five-pointed, terrazzo and gold stars on Hollywood Boulevard.
My advice?
No pierdas tu tiempo (don’t waste your time)!
Go visit the stars of Penelope Cruz, Javier Bardem and Antonio Banderas in California!
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Paseo de la Fama de Madrid
Address: C. de Martin de los Heros, 13, 28008, Madrid, Spain
Hours: 24 hours, daily
Admission: free
Getting There: Metro, Plaza de Espana, lines 3 and 10. Bus, 001, 1, 133 and 74. Train, C1, C10, C3A, C7.
Over the course of more than a decade, I have spent considerable time in Dakar, Senegal. A vibrant city with much history and friendly people, there is no shortage of places to visit and things to do.
One of the most sought-after destinations for most visitors is Goree Island and that was the first place on my agenda when I arrived more than 11 years ago.
A short walk from our hotel was the ferry port and a twenty-five minute choppy boat ride had us approaching a colorful island nestled in the Atlantic waters off of the coast of Senegal. It was quite the adventure! Over the years, I made many trips to Ile de Goree, but some time had passed since my last. Walks around the island always revealed the Portuguese, Dutch, English and French influences. I always found photographic opportunities at every turn and I had been toying with the idea of a return.
As I overheard two of my co-workers, on their first trip to Senegal, questioning whether or not to venture out to the island on their own, I decided that maybe it was time to reacquaint myself with the beautiful island and I offered to take them there.
Noting the ferry schedule, we decided to leave our hotel (now much farther from the city center) about an hour prior to our selected ferry. Little did I realize how much more congested the city’s streets and roadways had become. Sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, we inched forward along the coast, ultimately realizing that we would not make it in time. Our two taxis finally arrived at the port only to discover that COVID and security restrictions had personnel limiting those who could enter and demanding identification. While I had my driver’s license with me, I discovered that two others had not brought any identification…at all. This certainly put a kink in our plans!
A gentleman, who had been hovering nearby, suddenly stepped in and introduced himself as a tour guide. He went on the explain that those wishing to visit Goree with a tour guide leading the way, could enter without identification.
Smelling a rat, I questioned him further, wanting to know the cost of his services.
“You pay me at the end of the tour what you think I am worth.”
Although he had the official tour guide badge, I have been in this situation before and it never ends well. But what other option did we have at this point? Jump into two more taxis and go back the way we had come, enduring more than another hour’s worth of traffic?
Reluctantly, I made an agreement with him. We paid him the cost of the ferry tickets and the cost of the admittance to the island along with the tour guide tax (paid to the island) and took a few seats in the nearby restaurant to wait out the time until the next ferry departure.
At two-thirty on the dot, our boat pulled away from the dock and we enjoyed the salty breeze on our journey, punctuated with pleasant conversations with some of the local women. Though these conversations seemed innocent enough, it wasn’t until we arrived that I remembered their purpose.
“Enjoy your visit. My name is Fatou. I have a stand in the market. Come see me and buy something.”
Making our way with our guide along the dock and to the crescent beach area, we waited patiently for him to settle the necessities for our tour.
Finally, we were on our way.
Everything was still quite familiar to me with a few remodeled buildings and a new market area. We listened as our guide gave us a detailed history of the island, including its role in the slave trade from the 15th to the 19th centuries, and we followed him in the direction of the House of Slaves.
The House of Slaves, is the most famous landmark on the island, built by the Afro-French Métis family from 1780-1784, and is one of the oldest structures on the island. This is the location where more than 33,000 slaves, torn from their families, were held and then shipped to the western world to work, wage free, never to return.
We made our way through each of the small rooms of the house, taking in our guide’s haunting stories, aware of the atrocities that took place where we now stood. But, until you stand at the Door of No Return at the rear of the structure, you don’t realize what each of these people must have encountered until gazing out at the water beyond the portal. That ocean was their uncertainty. Their new future. One that they could not have envisioned.
Leaving the House of Slaves, we wandered the streets, with our guide, making our way to a small shop where the art of sand painting was demonstrated. Years ago, I remembered seeing this on the hilltop area of the island, however, this store was a little nicer and allowed the artist to exhibit multiple paintings, all for sale.
After a couple of purchases, we once again entered the streets, heading to the Catholic Church of St. Charles Eglise. With my distinct fascination of religious structures, I found it odd that I had never been here before or even knew of its existence.
Remember Fatou? Well, you don’t think she or the other women were going to let us forget our promises to visit their shops. These women began to follow us, asking us to make purchases from them. Although I have more than enough African art, fabric and crafts, it is hard to continually say no when they begin to follow you, interrupting your tour.
And if that wasn’t enough, after our guide led us to the area near the fort (now a museum), relieving himself on a wall as we looked on, he then demanded his payment.
All five of us put up 10,000 CFA each, a total of almost $50.00. Unbelievably, he was not happy about that amount and demanded more, which we refused to hand over. And this was in addition to what we paid for admission to the island, the museum and for the guide tax, which he had assured me a portion would be given to him! A frustrating situation, all due to two people not having identification.
After his hasty departure (in order to make the next ferry), we made our way through the back alleys, eventually losing a couple of our group to the demanding ladies in the market. Gathering our group once again, we made our way to the highest point on the island with its winding walkway lined with giant paintings. This has always been one of my favorite parts of my visits as it is like an art gallery in nature.
On the island’s highest peak, La Castel, we found ourselves in the presence of two large cannons, remnants of the French occupation during World War II. The Vichy cannons were the largest ever made of this type and their turrets now function as homes with artwork and handicrafts for sale near their entrances and clotheslines strung with the occupants’ freshly laundered clothing swaying in the wind. Also topping this pinnacle is the WWII Commemorative Monument which is in the shape of a white sail.
Spending a few minutes in this area, we looked out on the waters that surrounded the island, remembering that the grand cliffs leading down to the ocean were the ones that Gregory Peck scaled to attack Nazi troops in the 1961 movie “The Guns of Navarone”.
Noticing the late hour, we headed down the steep walkway toward the bay and ferry dock for the next boat to Dakar, carefully evading Fatou and the others. Although we would have loved to purchase more to help their businesses, time and funds were running short.
Making our way to the front of the ferry, I suddenly realized how tired I was. It’s a lot to take on the responsibility of a group and to ensure that all goes well and that we everyone achieves what they want from their visit!
So, to wrap up this adventure, if someone asks me for recommendations on visiting Goree Island, I would give them three important pieces of advice.
Hire a reputable guide.
Make sure everyone carries identification. Pack your patience.
Well…that and a camera!
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Dakar-Ile de Goree Ferry
Ferry Schedule: Sunday, 1200-2300, Monday-Thursday, 0645-2300, Friday, 1200-2300, Saturday, 1315-2300. Ferries run every one or two hours.
Fares: Special ferry boat, 1,750,000, Resident, 2,700 CFA, Non-resident, 5,200 CFA
There was a time when I used to spend multiple days in Senegal.
Having so much time to explore, we saw a great deal of not only the city of Dakar but of the neighboring areas.
One morning, after having been up for most of the night, enjoying a few (or maybe more) cocktails, we convened in the lobby of our hotel for a day’s adventure. Though my eyes may have been a little red and my head throbbing somewhat, I made it downstairs in time to greet our tour guide for the day.
It had always been my desire to go on an African safari. I longed to roam an African nation in an open top vehicle on the search for the Big Five while shooting frame after frame with my telephoto lens. So, when my friend suggested we go to the Bandia Reserve for a “mini safari” experience, I was eager to join her, however, hearing the words, “reserve”, I must admit, I didn’t have many expectations. What I envisioned was more like a zoo.
But as our tour guide, Mass, arrived and herded us into his van, his excitement for the place he was taking us was a bit contagious. After a quick nap in the rear seat, I woke to spectacular sights during the long drive…colorful villages, Senegalese women balancing things on their heads, gaudy buses emblazoned with kooky paint jobs, men driving horse-drawn carts, huge baobab trees.
Though I was still a bit skeptical, the way Mass had described this place…3500 hectacres of grand nature…had me curious as to what we would find.
As we drove around the park, I was amazed. Although I knew this was extremely different from what I would find in say, Tanzania, Kenya or South Africa, I was impressed, especially when we came upon a large group of giraffes lounging in the road, blocking our way.
Fast forward to 2017, for my 50th birthday and 25th wedding anniversary, my husband and I finally went on safari in Tanzania. While vast acres of wilderness spread out before us in the Serengeti, Ngorogoro Crater and Tarangire National Park, my memories of the Bandia Reserve were not so different, except that we didn’t have as much expanse to drive around and that we never found the elusive rhinos that reside in Bandia.
Coming back to Dakar after being off for a year due to Covid, I was excited to see, once again, the city that holds such a dear place in my heart. I was even more excited to learn that a good friend would be flying with me and we, both avid photographers, made plans to go to revisit the Bandia Reserve.
I had made arrangements for Mass to drive us to Bandia Reserve and two other members of our work group decided to join us. After a long night of no sleep, (this time due to work…no cocktails!), we all dozed during the long drive, reminiscent of my first expedition. However, I was awake long enough to enjoy the colorful sights!
As we pulled into the park and exited our vehicle, the first thing I noticed was a gigantic baobab tree (sacred to the Senegalese) and a few monkeys scampering around its base. Mesmerized by these small apes and their antics, we were unaware that our vehicle was ready to be loaded and we had to be collected by Mass as our safari driver was ready to take us through the park.
Heading out on the bumpy, dirt roads, we passed through the part of the park that houses the giant tortoises and the hyenas. The hyenas have a place of “honor” behind a tall, secure chain link gate and are the only carnivores within the park. As you can imagine, since the park is secured by towering barricades at its borders, the other residents would be sitting ducks for these fierce, doglike creatures during their comestible pursuits.
Continuing into the wild, it wasn’t long before we had our first encounter. A group of giraffes were enjoying the shade of a robust baobab tree and the nearby thicket. One stood warily as we approached, seemingly ready to defend its turf if we ventured too close while others merely ignored our presence. A short drive away, we encountered a group of three young males eager to show their prowess by fighting each other by using their necks.
As we made our way down each of the dusty roads, we encountered, ostriches, giant eland, oryx, antelope, waterbuck, western Buffon’s cob, greater kudu, nyalas, impalas, gazelles, warthogs, buffalo, more monkeys, more giraffe and many species of bird.
Not long after an encounter with a pair of zebras, we were driving along and noticed another jeep parked down a narrow lane. Our driver quickly turned and approached slowly. What had eluded us on my first visit was sitting lazily under the tree in front of us…the park’s two rhinos! Resting in the shade, these magnificent creatures, used to being gawked at by visitors, merely looked over at us through heavily lidded eyes with much disinterest. Finally, one stood and took a few steps toward our vehicle, giving us more photographic opportunities and the impression that maybe we had worn out our welcome.
Backing slowly, we retreated the way we had come in search of more adventure in Bandia.
A short time later, after countless sighting of smaller animals and more giraffe, we came to another giant baobab tree and a sign, Tombeau de Griots (the Tomb of the Griots). This tree is one of the last baobab trees that house griot remains. The griots are considered masters of knowledge and keepers of historical records across generations. They include singers, poets, instrumentalists, musicians and storytellers who maintain a tradition of oral history in parts of West Africa. Because the baobabs are considered sacred and represent longevity and knowledge, they were chosen to be the appropriate place to store the remains of the griots.
I had remembered this place from my first visit and as I jumped out of the jeep and peered into the opening at the base of the baobab tree, I once again saw the skulls of the griots. They are protected by a metal screen so that the bones cannot be disturbed. Although these remains have been allowed to stay inside of this particular baobab tree due to it being on private property, since 1962, the burial of griots in baobabs has been banned due to the health risks of the decomposition of bodies.
After a couple of photos with my travel mates, we jumped back into our safari jeep and headed back to the front of the reserve. Inside the restaurant, we took a look at the crocodiles in the lake and skirted the monkeys looking for a handout from the diners.
Restaurants, shops and public areas at the Bandia Reserve.
It had already been a long day, but Mass decided that it was not over. Though we toyed with the idea of dining at the reserve, our guide promised us that he had a much better place. A short drive took us to the beachfront in Saly for some fresh seafood and picturesque views.
Once again, Senegal did not disappoint. Nature at its finest…on all fronts!
If you are visiting Dakar, make sure to book a trip to the Bandia Reserve, one of Senegal’s highlights. Also, right across the street is the Lion Ranch…your opportunity to see the big cats of Senegal. Definitely on my to-do list!
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Admission: Payments can be made in FCFA, Euros or by credit card. Adults, 12,000 FCFA or 18.50€, Children under 12 years, 7,000 FCFA or 10.50€. Use outside vehicle (personal, taxi, car), 10,000 FCFA or 15€, Safari truck rental with up to 11 seats, 40,000 FCFA or 61€, Safari truck rental up to 24 seats, 60,000 FCFA or 91€, Guide (compulsory)per vehicle, 6.500 FCFA or 10€.
Getting There: Coming from Dakar by motorway, take the Sindia/Popeguine exit number 14 to Sindia in 2 km, then take a right on the National Road (N1) Dakar-Mbour for 3,3 km, turn left at the signposts, continue the track in laterite for 800m. Coming from Saly, you will have 15 km to travel and 18 km from Mbour.
Wow, two weeks have come and gone very quickly! On my last morning, I was up quite early so after getting dressed, I headed over to the bakery around the corner to get breakfast. As I turned to return to my apartment, I caught a glimpse of Volcan de Agua. With nary a cloud in the sky, it stood out against the blue and was one of the clearest views I had had since I arrived. After breakfast, I took one last walk down to the Plaza Mayor and snapped a few photographs along the way. It was simply stunning!
It was finally time to grab my bags and wait for my ride back to Guatemala City. Handing over the keys to Esperanza, I felt a twinge of sadness. My trip was finally over. Last night, on my ride back to Antigua, one of the guys from my tour, who had shared transportation back with me, asked what my favorite thing was about being here in Guatemala this time. I think most people would talk about the adventures that they had but my response was this, “I simply loved having adequate time to investigate every little nook and cranny of the city, taking leisurely walks, greeting the locals and feeling like an actual part of another culture. Because of the nature of my job, I see other parts of the world in short bursts. This time, time was on my side and it was an amazing gift”.
What I learned: My husband is a saint for helping me to realize one of my dreams.
Photo of the day: Volcan de Agua
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This morning was an important one and I guess that why I was up at 3:30 am.
It was COVID test day!
It really bothers me that another country will allow me to enter with my vaccine card, yet the country where I received my vaccine requires me to have a COVID test to enter and my vaccine card carries no weight. So, on my trip, I have to spend time and money to get this test in order to return home within 72 hours of departure. With clinics not open on Sundays and only half days on Saturdays, you really have to plan accordingly.
My Airbnb host had told me of a clinic nearby that was charging $50, but thankfully, I asked around and found another about three blocks away that charged $35. They were extremely helpful with my questions during the week and greeted me warmly when they arrived.
Yes, I was the first person in line, thanks to my early awakening!
Watching the early deliveries while waiting for the clinic to open.
Heading back to my apartment after my test, I had breakfast and killed some time before heading back to get my negative result!
It was early and the day was looking to be a beautiful one, so I decided to walk to the Colegio Campania de Jesus (which was closed again) and ended up at the Museo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes Generales in the Plaza Mayor. It’s a small museum that introduces the colonial life during the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries through paintings, furniture and historical artifacts. There is also an important collection of weapons which gives the museum its title.
Colegio Compania de JesusColegio Compania de JesusView of Volcan Agua from Plaza MayorPlaza Mayor Museo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes Generales Weapons Exhibit at Museo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes GeneralesMuseo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes GeneralesMuseo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes GeneralesView from Upper Level of Museo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes GeneralesMuseo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes GeneralesMuseo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes GeneralesMuseo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes GeneralesWalkway in front of Museo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes Generales
Across the plaza, I headed to the Museo Los Libros, but found it to be closed. I was very disappointed as I had heard that it has a beautiful interior and an interesting collection of books.
Museo Los Libros
Returning to my apartment (after a few shopping stops), I began the arduous process of packing. How do you fit your numerous purchases into your bags that had already come full? Well, that was a work in progress all day!
After lunch, I headed back out, bound for the southernmost part of town. It was a long walk, but I wanted to see El Calvario church. I had learned of this church and their procession during Semana Santa during my last visit. I don’t think we witnessed their procession, but I remember seeing the church’s location on the map and thinking what a long way they had to travel. Along the street leading to El Calvario, I noticed many small chapels that were numbered with Roman numerals. They were locked, but noticing that they led to the church, I assumed (correctly) that they were Stations of the Cross, with the final one on the church grounds.
Stations of the Cross on the way to El Calvario
El Calvario’s exterior was a bright yellow, very different from others in the city and its grounds were well maintained. Entering the church, I found it to be rather minimalistic with a barrel vault and dual-colored stained-glass windows. I didn’t stay long as I was reprimanded for taking photos. What I did learn later was that the church’s walls were once graced with paintings by 18th century colonial artist Tomás de Merlo, which were taken a few years ago by thieves. These paintings which depicted the Passion of the Christ were valued at approximately $300,000 each and were prized possessions of the church. Sadly, they have not been recovered.
El Calvario ChurchEl Calvario ChurchEl Calvario Church
One of the highlights of a visit to the church is the Esquisúchil tree in the garden which was planted in 1657 by Holy Saint Hermano Pedro de San Jose de Betancourt, Central America’s only saint. This tree, with its aromatic flowers is believed to have curative powers.
Statue of Holy Saint Hermano Pedro de San Jose de Betancourt and the Esquisúchil tree The Gardens of El Calvario Church
Soon on my way, I passed the ruins of the old El Calvario church and then the church of San Jose de Viejo, which is still in operation and has the appearance of many of the ruined churches.
Ruins of Old El Calvario ChurchThe Church of San Jose de ViejoThe Church of San Jose de Viejo
Finally, I took a less direct route home, enjoyed the different scenery, eventually stopping at a Venezuelan restaurant for a quick dinner of pastelitos and tequenos! Yum! That was perfect for an early night!
Sights Around the AntiguaSights Around the Antigua
Sights Around the Antigua
Sights Around the Antigua
Ermita de Santa Lucia
Ermita de Santa Lucia
Tikal in the morning!!!
What I learned: Bring an extra suitcase to Guatemala for your purchases.
Photo of the day: No parking
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Museo de Caballeros at the Palacio Santiago de Capitanes Generales
My last day at Academia Espanol de Antiguena…and I was kind of sad. Ever since I had started studying Spanish last year, I had dreamt of coming to Antigua when Covid restrictions were lifted. I had finally done what I had set out to do and fulfilled my goal.
Am I fluent now? Absolutely not.
Does my accent and use of the language make the locals cringe? Probably so.
But as the morning went on, I learned that I do understand a great deal. One of the things I enjoyed most was when Patricia and I had conversations about our lives. Similar in age, length of marriages and sexes of our children (yay boys!), there was much that we had in common outside of the fact that we live in separate countries. When Patricia talked about her life, I understood most of what she said, but it was frustrating that I couldn’t communicate everything I wanted to tell her. I’m just not there yet.
Earlier in the week, I had asked Patricia if she knew of a place that I could donate some clothes. I had brought along some clothing items that I no longer wore at home. While I wore them here, I had no plans to bring them back to Virginia. She had named a few places for me, but I was hoping she would volunteer to give the items to people she knew who might need them. And that’s what she did!
The day before, I had worn a very colorful shirt with a nice pattern. When I walked into our classroom, she complemented me and said how much she liked the design. I was on the fence about leaving that particular shirt, however, when I found out she liked it so much, I decided that it had to go in the bag! When I handed her the bag of clothing and she noticed that shirt on the top, her eyes lit up and I told her that she should keep that shirt for herself! In fact, if Patricia likes that whole bag of clothing for herself, then I hope she keeps it and enjoys it.
Every day during class, I brought an insulated, Yeti-type cup to class, filled with my bebida del dia, Coca Cola Sin Azucar, because you know…I needed my caffeine to help my brain translate. One day, she asked me about the cup and if it kept drinks both cold and hot. She told me the word for that type of cup and mentioned that they don’t sell anything like that here. On my last day, I found out that it was “Teachers Day” in Guatemala when Patricia brought in a little goodie bag given to her by the Director with some hand sanitizer and a small bottle of liqueur. Even though it might be strange by our standards to give someone a cup that you were just drinking out of, I decided that she might like it. I told her that it would need some washing but if she would like to have it, it was my gift to her for Teachers Day. I have never seen someone’s eyes light up the way hers did and she quickly took it to empty the ice and wash it out, thanking me a million times. It really touched me and although I would’ve liked to have kept my cup to have something to drink from for the next couple of days, I realized how little many of the people here have. I can walk into Walmart on Tuesday and buy another one for seven dollars, they cannot.
While we were talking, she also mentioned how little the children here have in regard to schooling. Covid has really put a damper on the children’s education. School is not free and even when they can attend, things like books are not provided. Desks are simply wood planks placed on concrete cinder blocks. Parents have to work very hard in order to buy things that we take for granted like pencils, pens and notebooks. Now that children are having to do school online, many are not receiving instruction at all, since most families don’t have computers, phones or tablets. She told me of one teacher who, in her opinion is a true hero. She watched as children brought an egg or a vegetable as payment to him and sat in his doorway as he instructed them. When asked why he did it, he said that it was his duty.
I really wish that my children could hear these stories and realize how much they take for granted. They all have cellular phones, they have notebooks from school that only a portion of was used, they had textbooks provided for them and they have all had the privilege to attend college.
As the bells were ringing in the noon hour at Iglesia de Merced, our classes officially came to an end. I gave Patricia my email address and asked her to stay in contact with me. I told her that I hoped to return next spring and asked that if I brought supplies for the school children in her town, could she distribute them for me? I truly hope to do this and provide some assistance to those who really need it. We know that in the United States, Covid has affected our lives greatly, but it really has taken a toll on so many others worldwide.
Bidding Julio, the Director, a farewell as I walked out the door, I made my way home for the last time…across the street.
After lunch, I decided to take a walk and start some of the shopping that I needed to do. It was a lovely day and I enjoyed browsing in some of the stores I had never ventured into near the ruins of Colegio Compania de Jesus. After a few blocks, I found myself in the Plaza Mayor. Walking under the portico, I stopped to inspect some embroidered blouses in a store. I suddenly realized that a hallway led to an artisan’s market that I did not know existed. Searching for different nativity sets (which I collect), is always first and foremost when I am abroad. Although I had a beautiful one that I purchased here before, I was searching for something a little different made of a bleached wood. I had just about given up hope of finding what I wanted when I stopped in a store and asked about nativity sets. The young woman reached behind some other statues and started to pull out a nine-piece set that was exactly what I was looking for!
Ruins of Colegio Compania de Jesus
The owner, Roberto, and I struck up a conversation and although the price was a little high, we made a deal. There were some beautiful items in his shop and if anyone is ever in the central plaza, you should take a look at Mayanwood #20 in El Mercadito Artisans market! He’s a pleasure to talk to!
Roberto, Stall #20El Mercadito Artisanias
The much sought-after nativity set, as seen in La Aurora Airport for almost twice the price!
Finally, I made my way back to my other favorite store, Nim Po’t, with my shopping list in hand. It took two baskets to get everything I needed and I left wondering how the heck I was going to get it all in my suitcase!
It was time to celebrate my successes in Spanish school tonight! I headed toward the Cathedral and found a nice restaurant with a quaint courtyard, Las Atorchas (The Torches). Honestly, I don’t know if you can get a bad meal here. Everywhere I go, I enjoy the most amazing food, including tonight, a chicken curry with Guatemalan flare. It was absolutely delightful!
Cerveza in hand, I toasted myself for making it this far and wished myself luck with my future studies.
My Spanish-speaking amigos and amigas had better be ready to help me practice!
What I learned: Always go with your gut. If I hadn’t changed schools I wouldn’t have had the lovely experiences that I had this week.
Photo of the day: The Fountain of the Plaza Mayor
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Rates: $ 110 one-week classes, 4 hours, 5 days from 0800-1200. $ 135 one-week classes, 5 hours, 5 days from 0800-1300. $ 165 one-week classes, 6 hours, 5 days from 0800-1200 and 1400-1600 or 1600-1800. $ 175 one week for both (not each), if you and a friend shared a teacher 4 hours, 5 days. $90 one-week classes, 4 hours, 5 days, 1300-1700.
El Mercadito Artisans Market
Address: 5a Avenida Norte, Antigua, Guatemala. Adjacent to Plaza Mayor, next to Wendy’s.
