Its a time for warm weather to replace the cold, flowers to replace dead grass, animals to emerge from hibernation, players to fill baseball diamonds…
Spring brings hope…and SPRING BREAK!
Yes, every year, thousands of families and students descend upon beaches everywhere hoping to escape winter’s icy fingers and return home, to the envy of friends and those not so fortunate, to show off their tan lines!
Over the years, I have been blessed to have had the opportunity to take my children on some pretty awesome vacations, some, during their Spring Breaks. Last year was no exception. This time, my youngest son and I decided to head to the far southern reaches of the Caribbean…
Aruba.
While we didn’t take advantage of staying on popular Palm or Eagle Beaches, we had rented a car, which in turn, offered us the opportunity to make our way all over the island. After a long day of travel, we were excited to have arrived, excited to make our way to hotel and excited to get our vacation started.
Our hotel, situated across from the Hadicurari Beach, where sailboarders glide across the shallow Caribbean waters, was clean and offered us what a traditional hotel room couldn’t…a kitchen. We were excited to stock our fridge with some snacks, ice down our beer, get settled in our hotel room and cross the road to put our feet in the sand. But…finding more rocks than sand, we attempted to manipulate a path to deeper waters. One step in…
Ouch!
A crab got me.
Okay…maybe this wasn’t the hotel for us.
Yet…that evening, as we sat on our patio and opened up a couple of Balashi Beers, we realized that despite the less than optimum beachfront real estate, the sunsets here were spectacular. This is what the hotels and homes in this area are known for!
With a car at our disposal, we could enjoy different beachfront properties each day and then retire to this little slice of paradise to enjoy our own personal happy hour!
On our first day, that first sip of Balashi, along with the spectacular views, gave us hope for the days to come.
My husband is that kind of guy…always sees the bright spot!
While my husband could have been upset that I only allotted a condensed visit to Murano during our day, he was elated that he would have any time there at all. My birthday, my decision…he had agreed to this plan! So…glass half full!
Revisiting Murano was not high on my list. Twice before, I had called upon the island, most recently, the week before. Both times, I had been part of a tour and was taken immediately to one of the glass blowing demonstrations in one of the workshops on the Grand Canal of Murano. With limited time, because of the presentation, my impression of Murano was not optimum. Not having time to do much exploration, the only thing I could associate with it was a dark, cramped (and hot) workspace, filled with other tourists, holding up their iPhone (me included), trying to document a master glassblower manipulate molten glass into a small pony. Then, being ushered into the crowded giftshop so that I could buy a replica of that breakable steed.
Arriving from Burano, we disembarked onto the Murano Faro dock and had a wonderful view of the tall, elegant lighthouse that was built in 1934. Walking down Calle Bressagio, we passed the Oratorio Ex ospizio Briati, a chapel which was the former Carmelite convent and followed the street until we reached the canal along Fondamenta Manin, where we browsed the many souvenir shops that line the waterway.
Murano Faro
Oratorio Ex ospizio Briati
A building across the canal caught my eye and I quickly ushered my husband across the bridge….the Church of Saint Peter Martyr. This ancient church was originally built in 1348 with a Dominican convent and was dedicated to Saint John the Baptist. After a fire in 1474, it was rebuilt to its current state and was one of the two main parish churches on the island of Murano that I planned to visit.
Church of Saint Peter Martyr
Church of Saint Peter Martyr
The church contains some important works by Tintoretto (Baptism of Christ), Giovanni Bellini (Assumption with Saints and Barbarigo Altarpiece), Giovane (San Nicolo, Santa Lucia, San Carlo Borromeo), Paolo Veronese (Saint Jerome in the Desert), Giovanni Agostino da Lodi (Barcaioli Altarpiece) and Guisseppe Porta (Deposition from the Cross). In the right wing is the Ballarin Chapel, built in 1506 and named after the famous glassmaker from Murano. It is a humble church, but warm and welcoming.
Ballarin Chapel
Continuing our explorations, strangely enough, we found ourselves at the Guarnieri Glass Factory. It wasn’t one of the factories that I had visited previously, but it also wasn’t something that I had really desired to experience again. As we approached the arched entrance, decorated with beautiful glass roses, a gentleman greeted us warmly. The factory was about to close, but he agreed to ask the master craftsman if he would do one more demonstration for us. Although this man seemed reluctant, no doubt ready to retreat to his air conditioned home for a nice dinner, he agreed after another couple approached.
Guarnieri Glass Factory
Sweating profusely in the intense heat, he shaped a beautiful stallion, much more elegant that the ones I had witnessed being sculpted at the other demonstrations. For his final act, a glass bubble was blown and popped, signaling his departure!
I must admit, while it was not something I had wished to do again, it was quite nice to be one of only two couples in attendance and I later learned that this is one of the best places to seek out this experience. The outstanding thing about it, however, was that before leaving, I ended up with a beautiful necklace from the gift shop! A splendid birthday gift!
Murano boasted an impressive landscape along its hidden streets and central canals…stunning Italian architecture, cobblestone streets and occasional handblown glass exhibits randomly placed in courtyards throughout. While we never did make it to the other church that I so desired to see, Duomo Basilica dei Santi Maria e Donato, we enjoyed the impressive scenery that we encountered.
It was getting late in the afternoon at this point and the sun’s slanted rays led to an ambiance that I had never experienced in Murano having visited earlier in the day. Entranced with the deepening of the colors along the canals, I actually hated to leave. Indubitably a much different Murano, one I would choose to return to again.
As we boarded the water taxi for our return to Venice, we found the ride to be much more enjoyable with the heat of the day diminishing. In fact, a cool breeze made our ride quite refreshing especially since we were able to snag a spot on the outside deck. Cruising between the islands, the sunlight glittered on the waters as we passed Cimitero di San Michele, the 10th century cemetery christened after the resident Church of Saint Michael. Entering the canals of Venice, we passed elegant bridges spanning its width, and spied architecture, palpable in late afternoon sunshine, while tourists strolled the banks searching for their dinner destination.
These tourists would be us later, celebrating my birthday and the glass would definitely be full…of my favorite Italian beer!
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Church of Saint Peter Martyr
Address: Fondamenta dei Vetrai, 30141 Venezia VE, Italy
Hours: Unknown
Admission: free
Guarnieri Vetreria Artistica
Address: Fondamenta Serenella, 11, 30141 Venezia VE, Italy
Hours: Monday to Friday, 0900-1800, Saturday, 0900-1645, Sunday, Closed
On an island, just across the Grand Canal, stands a bright white Palladian church, Chiesa di San Giorgio Maggiore.
Many times after visiting St. Mark’s square, I have stood on the banks of the waterway and stared at the church…it seemed untouchable.
Really not understanding the water taxi system, which seemed to be the way to reach this island, I was never comfortable trying to figure out how to get there, possibly making a mistake and ending up somewhere I didn’t plan. I always thought…next time. And next time never came…until I was visiting Venice with my husband one weekend.
Since two brains are better than one, together we deciphered the water taxi schedule and jumped on the one which we thought would get us there. It was a spontaneous decision and yes, it worked out…we made it across to the island!
As we pulled up to the dock, it suddenly dawned on me that we didn’t even know if the church was open to visitors…but at least we had made it there and figured that we could at least walk to the end of the island to see the lighthouse if it wasn’t.
First, we stood in the large plaza before the church and took in the basilica’s beautiful marble façade and the views of the city across the Venetian waters. Standing on the island, which was once called Insula Memmia (after the Memmo family who owned it) the church that once occupied the island, was consecrated to St. George. The San Giorgio Monastery was established in 982, when the entire island was donated for the monastery and it was built next to the church. In 1576, construction of the current church was begun.
Luckily, we found the church open for tourists and we began our explorations of the 16th century basilica.
Constructed by architect Andrea Palladio, the church’s spacious interior contains the usual things you might find in a basilica…chapels, tombs, altar, dome…but it is the artwork that takes center stage…both old and new.
Main Chorus
Within the church’s three floors, paintings by Tintoretto were displayed including The Last Supper, The Entombment of Christ and The Fall of Manna as well as a significant masterpiece by Sebastiano Ricci, Madonna Enthroned With Saints. There were some modern pieces by Swiss artist Not Vital, Tintoretto (2020-2 silver boxes) found on the Main Altar, Pope Francesco (2020-2 silver boxes) found in the Main Chorus and the most impressive piece, House to Watch the Sunset (2021), found in the Transept, which is a large pyramid of stairs. This piece was created for the occasion of the 17th International Architecture Biennale.
House to Watch the Sunset by Not Vital
Pope Francesco Silver Boxes by Not Vital in Main Chorus (far bottom right)
Following the signs to the campanile, we paid our entrance fee and made our way to the top of the tower via the rapid ascent elevator. One of the finest examples of Venetian Gothic architecture, the bell tower was built in the 14th century by Pietro Lombardo and completed by Pietro Bellotto. From this vantage point, we had some of the most breathtaking views of the Venetian lagoon, the city and some of the nearby islands. We were also able to look down upon the cloisters of the monastery as well as gaze upward at the tower’s carillons. While the campanile of San Giorgio Maggiore is a little shorter than the Campanile di San Marco, one reason to make the trip to the island and make your way to the top, is that you don’t have to navigate its height via stairs, as you would at San Marco. I also think that the views from this perspective are more beautiful!
CampanileViews from the CampanileBells in the bell tower
Exiting the church, we walked toward the harbor for an up close and personal look at the Lighthouse of San Giorgio Maggiore. While it is not one of the largest lighthouses I have ever seen, it is quite impressive with its clean masonry.
Lighthouse of San Giorgio Maggiore
Finally, we headed back to the vaporetto dock and waited for the next boat. As it was the middle of August, it was extremely hot. The small enclosure, which offers protection from the cold and the rain, is not the best place to wait while the hot summer sun is bearing down. Dashing out back to the plaza in front of the church, we took more pictures and enjoyed the cool breeze coming off of the water until Vaporetto 2 was in sight.
Water taxi dockChurch of San Giorgio Maggiore
Back to San Marco plaza, we headed, now feeling secure about our boat ride and how to navigate the Vaporetto system. This bit of confidence would serve us well for the rest of our trip as we navigated the city. Another check on the Venetian bucket list…I no longer have to only wistfully stare at the beautiful church across the canal…I visited it!
There are many churches in the Venetian Islands, but this one is worth the trip!
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Address: Isola di S. Giorgio Maggiore, 30133, Venezia VE, Italy
Hours: April to October, 0900-1800, daily. November to March, 0830 to 1800.
Admission: Church entrance, free. €6 for tower access
Getting There: Vaporetto (water taxi) 2 or N. You will need two one-way tickets or a 24 hour pass to visit the island. If your visit is about an hour, your 75 minute ticket may still be valid for the return.
After enjoying our live music, we decided to leave the windows open to enjoy the fresh night air while we slept.
In the early hours of the morning, my husband was awakened by a sound. The way he described it was “otherworldly”, moving through the town and palace and causing the dogs to all begin barking and howling. It was as if something flew over and through the area.
I was awakened by the sound of him moving through the room and hastily shutting the windows and closing the curtains. As he realized that I was awake, visibly shaken he asked me if I had heard the sound. In a deep sleep, I had not, but I realized that he was most unnerved and wondered what exactly he had heard. Later, after thinking about the parts of the country that are remote and desolate and its history steeped in stories about vampires, giants and witches, I thought that maybe he had indeed experienced something out of this world.
A few hours later, my husband was up, packing his clothes and making a quick breakfast. As much as he had enjoyed the city of Split, he seemed determined to head down to the ferry as quickly as we could. He really was quite shaken!
After a quick walk, we determined which pier our ferry was departing from and grabbed a seat and waited for our boarding time.
Boarding commenced and we found a seat on the small ferry, readying ourselves for the hour and fifteen minute ride. Before we knew it, we had spotted the shoreline of Hvar and were disembarking on the main pier of Hvar Town.
Ferry from Split to Hvar.First glimpses of Hvar.
Since the check-in time for our Airbnb was much later in the afternoon, we decided to check our bags into a storage facility, grab some lunch and then check out some of the sights in the area. After a quick stop at the Tourist Information office, I had a map and a list of all the pertinent things in Hvar Town.
Hvar main square.
After walking around the town a bit, we decided to tackle Fortica Spajnola (the Spanish Fortress or City Fortress), the citadel that towers over the town on the adjacent mountaintop, we headed up the many steps leading up to the fortress’s path. A little tired and now, very hot, we plodded on knowing that the end result would be stunning views of the town below and gaining some insight into the town’s history.
Fortica Spajnola in the distance.
Twenty five minutes later and a little winded, we made it to the entrance and after paying our entrance fee, we began our explorations of this historic structure.
Fortica SpajnolaFortica Spajnola
The building of the City Fortress was started in 1278 during the era of the Venetian empire. In 1551, a new fortress was built to replace the original to offer protection to the population that had retreated to the island during the Turkish Invasion in 1571. An explosion caused much destruction in 1579 and modifications and repairs were made at the beginning of the 17th century by building the Baroque defensive bastions. Army barracks were completed in 1775 and 1776. Today, as the island remains safe from invaders, the fortress stands preserved above the town as a reminder of its turbulent past.
Fortica Spajnola
Fortica Spajnola
Fortica Spajnola
Fortica Spajnola
Fortica Spajnola
Making our way through the maze of passageways, we discovered not only a collection of amphora and other exhibits from antiquity and the Middle Ages, but atop, stunning panoramic views of Hvar Town and the surrounding Pakleni islands. Thankfully, by this time a cool ocean breeze had refreshed us enough to enjoy the setting and we sat at the café to enjoy a cold drink.
Fortica SpajnolaFortica SpajnolaFortica Spajnola
Checking the time, we made our way down towards town first stopping at the small ruined chapel of Kostel Panny Marie na Kruvenicic (Church of the Virgin Mary in Kruvenica). Although the door was locked, we were able to walk around the building and take some nice photographs. Continuing on, we made our way down the mountainside, back to the stairs of the city, casually inspecting alleyways, architecture and shops along our path.
Kostel Panny Marie na Kruvenicic (Church of the Virgin Mary in KruvenicaKostel Panny Marie na Kruvenicic (Church of the Virgin Mary in Kruvenica
Reclaiming our luggage, we headed towards the Loggia, the 13th century remains of the governor’s palace that now houses the five-star Palace Elisabeth Hotel. Taking a seat, we waited for instructions from our Airbnb host. Although the property was supposed to be ready for occupancy at 4:00 p.m., we began to get a bit nervous when there was no contact from our host. After continuously texting, we eventually received a message, that he was taking care of a few last minute things in the apartment…frustrating when check-out is 11:00 a.m. and things should have been ready for our arrival five hours later. Close to 5:00 p.m., we were met by our host, learning that he had much on his plate with his wife pregnant and due any day, and escorted to what would be our headquarters for until we would depart for Dubrovnik a couple of days later. A nice place, situated above the popular Lola Bar, we once again had VIP seating for the live music below later in the evening.
Loggia
Loggia
That evening, we headed out to the waterfront, drinks in hand, to watch the sunset and the mega yachts sail into the harbor and contemplate what our next day would bring.
Hvar RivaHvar RivaNighttime in Hvar
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Spanish Fortress (Fortica Spajnola)
Address: Ul. Biskupa Jurja Dubokovica 80, 21450, Hvar, Croatia
Hours: 0900-2000
Admission: Adults, 40 HRK, Children (7-16 years), 20 HRK, Children (under 7 years), free
Getting There: Walk from the main square to the north, passing the main city gate or Porta di Datalla (Gate of Dates) to ascend the stairs or take a taxi.
Kostel Panny Marie na Kruvenicic (Church of the Virgin Mary in Kruvenica)
Address: Ul. Higijeničkog Društva 9, 21450, Hvar, Croatia
Hours: 0900-2000
Admission: free
Getting There: Walk from the main square to the north, passing the main city gate or Porta di Datalla (Gate of Dates) to ascend the stairs or take a taxi.
After an eventful day visiting the Saloum Delta in Senegal, we were still yearning to explore more than we had ever experienced in this beautiful African country.
Our friend and tour guide Mass gave us another option…one he had described to me in the past. A place that he said he wanted to take me to show me the contrasting beauty that existed in the northwest coast of the country.
It would be a long day…longer than the day spent visiting the Saloum Delta, but we were ready to tackle it for the adventures that lay in store.
Grand Mosque enroute to Lompoul
Sights along the way to the Lompoul DesertSights along the way to the Lompoul Desert
Three and a half hours after our early departure, we woke from our napping to realize that we had turned onto a small, hilly road, leading to the Ecolodge de Lompoul. This lodge is situated in in the Lompoul Desert, a small desert with distinctive orange sands piled into high, extraordinarily shaped dunes. Located about 145 kilometers south of Saint-Louis, the country’s former capital, the area is stunningly beautiful and offers accommodations in the form of tented lodges. As we pulled into the Ecolodge’s perimeter, we noticed the row of tents to the left and the main tent containing the restaurant on the right side.
Road to Lompoul Ecolodge
Lompoul Desert
The main thing we saw, however, was the magnificent sand dunes that stretched out beyond the tents, all the way to the Atlantic Ocean!
While the lodge offers quad bikes to rent and ride throughout the desert (which would have been fun), we had opted to do a more traditional activity…riding camels!
Lompoul Desert EcolodgeCamel in Lompoul Desert
We jumped onto our camels and headed out into the barren landscape. It was hot but a faint breeze, from the nearby ocean, cooled the air as we plodded on through the desert. It was quite beautiful and serene. While we wished that we would have had time to ride all the way to the water, it was still quite some distance. Instead, we concentrated on the shifting sands and even spotted a dung beetle!
Lompoul Desert
Lompoul Desert
Lompoul DesertLompoul DesertEcolodge
With our ride over, we headed back to the camp to have a cool drink before hitting the road again. One thing we wanted to do before we left, however, was check out the accommodations. Peeking into the first tent, we discovered a pretty nice setup. There were beds on the left, protected with mosquito netting and the floor covered with a nice carpet. A couple of chairs and a table filled the remaining space. Behind the table, to the right, there was a dividing cloth and behind it, a basin and primitive shower and a toilet. While the tents have running water, they do not have electricity. They were extremely clean and we were impressed! Had we known the setup, we might have decided to come here the day before and spend the night!
Lompoul DesertEcolodge
Finally, we were on our way again, this time enroute to Saint-Louis or Ndar, as it is known to the locals. Saint-Louis was the capital of the French colony of Senegal from 1673 until 1902. From 1920 until 1957, it served as the capital of the neighboring colony of Mauritania.
Sights between Lompoul and Saint LouisSights between Lompoul and Saint LouisSights between Lompoul and Saint Louis
Driving into the city, we marveled at the colonial architecture and as we crossed the iron Faidherbe Bridge, which links the island of the city of Saint-Louis to the African mainland and we were excited to realize that we were getting ready to see life in the city. But first, lunch!
Faidherbe Bridge
Lunch at Flamingo Restaurant was delicious and our appetites were filled with not only the grilled gambas, but with the outstanding view of the muddy Senegal River rushing under the Faidherbe bridge and the faint landscape of Mauritania in the distance. With our lunch complete, we walked outside and jumped into a horse drawn cart for the real treat! A tour of the island!
Gambas at Flamingo Restaurant
Flamingo Restaurant
Riding through the streets, I remembered thinking of how much it reminded me of my trip to Cuba. Buildings were largely in disrepair, but I could still the beauty that once was.
Saint LouisSaint LouisSaint Louis
Once an important economic center, it still has some important industries including fishing and tourism, mainly due to its status as a UNESCO world Heritage site. While sugar production plays an important part of their commerce, we could see how fishing is what is the most dominant.
As we crossed from the island of Saint-Louis onto the Langue de Barbarie Peninsula, this was where the role fishing plays in the community was most apparent. The village of Guet N’Dar was bustling with activity and colorful boats lined the river banks. Multihued clothing and fishing nets, attached to lines strung between buildings, fluttered in the sea breeze, while strings of bobbers littered the grounds. Near the end of the peninsula, trucks were lined readied for loading of the day’s catch.
Langue de Barbarie Peninsula
Langue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie Peninsula
Elsewhere, goats languished in the sun while older residents sought out shade from the afternoon’s heat. The children played in the streets, sometimes oblivious to our presence and at others captivated, running alongside our cart, yelling ”Toubab” (white people)!
Langue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie PeninsulaLangue de Barbarie Peninsula
As I sat on my perch, riding through the streets, I could not help but be mesmerized by its simplistic beauty but I also felt as though we were intruding on these people’s daily lives. True, they rely on tourism, yet you could feel their watchful eyes, wondering why we were truly there.
Eventually, we returned to Saint-Louis where we stopped for a moment to admire L’eglise Saint-Louis-en-I’lle, the 18th century Catholic Church which bears the distinction of being the oldest church in West Africa. The first foundation stone was laid on February 11, 1827 and was brought to fruition by Anne-Marie Javouhey, founder of the Order of Sisters of St. Joseph of Cluny and Captain Roger Baron. The stone was blessed by the apostolic prefect Girardon father and opened to it faithful on November 4, 1828.
L’eglise Saint-Louis-en-I’llePresidential Palace
With so much to see and experience in Saint-Louis, I could have stayed for days soaking it all in, but alas, there was a long drive back to Dakar to think of.
Bidding our adieus, we took our tired, sweaty and camel-smelling bodies to the waiting van for our return trip. Indeed it was an amazing adventure, one that I will build upon on a future trip! A night in a desert tent will definitely be something in my future when I return, but as of this day, I will think back fondly of our trip to the north of Senegal to the vast desert, the former capital and its people.
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That much time in Senegal nowadays is a rarity for me and I was excited for the possibilities it held. Until…we found out that my company had changed our hotel at the last minute due to a problem with our regular one. The one we were being moved to was in the middle of nowhere! Nothing to do but hang at the overly crowded pool and stare out of my dusty window at the highway.
Thank goodness, I have a good friend who operates his own tour company, The Motherland Experience! After contacting Mass Kane, my friend Amy and I quizzed him for some different tour ideas since we both have done quite a lot within the country.
We perused a few different options that he presented and finally decided on the Saloum Delta. Located on the southwestern coast of Senegal, this is the area where the Saloum river meets the Atlantic Ocean. What interested us most was that we were told that if we made it there on time, we might be able to participate in the drum mass at the Catholic church. Now that was something I was wanting to see…and hear!
Leaving early in the morning, we began the long drive, past the resort town of Saly toward Fatick. In Mbour, we stopped quickly so that we could get a glimpse of the Grand Mosquee de Gandigal-Est. Though we could not get closer than the front gates, past the tall palms that line the front walkway we could see that it was a stunning piece of architecture with its twin minarets reaching skyward. A little further, we drove down a narrow dirt road to check out the Catholic Church’s steeple towering over the trees. Attracting a great deal of attention, a group of young girls came over to say hello. Wanting to practice their English, they giggled and asked me my name and insisted we all take a picture together!
Grand Mosquee de Gandigal-EstGrand Mosquee de Gandigal-EstCatholic Church and local school girls
Continuing on our way, we reached Fatick, where witnessing large crowds walking through the muddy streets and congregating in a large field, we learned that the community was hosting a festival. While I am sure that it would have been interesting to take part, we had a destination in mind, so after stopping to watch a few minutes of a wrestling match in the field, we headed out.
Festival in Fatick
A short time later, we pulled over again.
Now, there are baobab trees everywhere in western Africa and I have seen some gigantic ones during my times there, but the tree located here? It was one of the largest baobab trees I had ever seen. Mass wanted us to see this magnificent beauty so we all jumped out and began to take pictures. On one side of the tree, we noticed a hole…the entrance to the inside of the tree! Many of the baobab trees are hollow and as they are considered sacred, they are often used for burials of the village elders, but we were invited to climb inside as it was empty. Well, I am not one to pass up a challenge, so I readied myself, hike up a leg and attempted to follow the directions of the Senegalese men offering to help me inside. It is was not the most elegant of entrances and I actually got stuck for a moment, but finally after wiggling a bit, I made it in!
Very dark and damp, it seemed more like a cave and realizing that I was feeling drops of what felt like water, I looked up. Well, what do you normally find in caves? Bats! Hundreds of bats were circling above me and were attached to the inside of the tree. And that water? Well, you know…not water.
Getting out of there as fast as I could, I prayed that I didn’t contract any airborne illnesses from the bats and headed over to the nearby stalls to check out some of the local crafts for sale.
Finally, we were on our way once again and after a few short miles, we arrived at the Somone Lagoon. Herding us down to the boats, Mass greeted the boatman and we were on our way through the Saloum Delta.
The delta is the perfect place to see a variety of wildlife and birds among the mangrove trees. We glided through the calm waters admiring nearby houses and wharfs. As the boat eventually slowed, we pulled up to a small beach onto Morloth Island. On the shore was a small hotel with woven hammocks swinging in the breeze under a grass hut. This looked like a place I could hang out for a couple of days!
Morloth Island
Morloth Island
Morloth IslandMorloth Island
Quickly guided to the rear of the structure, we were loaded onto a horse-drawn cart with a few other visitors. Heading out, we bumped along the dirt road until we reached a small, quaint village.
Morloth Island
The narrow road, lined by high walls, protected the cinderblock structures behind them and after a short ride, we were pulling into the main part of the village. A white, weathered gazebo stood in the center, obviously the place for village gatherings and we spotted a minaret towering above the village mosque. Children walked together in groups and many local artisans attempted to attract our attention to sell us their wares. A little ways up the road, we were shown the marriage trees. These trees had grown adjacent to each other and intertwined. With their tall roots extending from their bases, it was a great spot for photos.
Morloth Islandvillage
Morloth IslandvillageMorloth IslandvillageMorloth IslandvillageMorloth IslandMarriage Trees
A short walk led us to the Catholic church, Missionaire Du Sacre Coeur. This is the scene of the famous drum mass that we had heard of, but sadly, we learned that we were too late. The Sunday services were complete and with it the sounds of the local instruments. Disappointed, we stepped through the doors of the church, admired the stark simplicity of the interior with its pointed arches, heavy wooden pews and small stained glass windows which encircled the worship space. Designed for a smaller congregation, it was intimate and even more of a disappointment that we did not get to participate in the Sunday services.
Missionaire Du Sacre CoeurMissionaire Du Sacre Coeur
Setting out to make the return trip, we first stopped at a large, covered pavilion; the craft market. Unlike any craft market I had ever experienced, these ladies were intent on each vendor getting a crack at selling their wares. While, I like to peruse all commodities in a normal market for the best selection, we were each greeted by a village woman and ushered over to a chair. The woman then proceeded to show me what she had. Only. I wasn’t allowed to look at what was being offered to anyone beside me or anywhere else in the pavilion. Since I have been to Africa so often and have so many mementos, it would take something extremely unique to have me open my wallet…and on this day, I saw nothing of the sort. Leaving with my merchant a bit unhappy, I decided to concentrate on the the musicians who filled the afternoon with song. Though we didn’t get to partake in the drum mass, here we listened to the beats of the local soul and watched one woman bust out her moves! She definitely had the rhythm!
Craft market
Hopping back onto our cart, we were driven back to our starting point so that we could take our boat back across the delta. Here, we would have a delicious lunch to ready us for the long drive back to Dakar.
Our view during lunch
Although a long day, the trip to the Saloum delta was filled with the colorful sights and sounds of western Africa, along the way and at our destination. Definitely an experience I won’t ever forget!
African sights along the way.
Sights along the way.
Sights along the way.Sights along the way.
Sights along the way.
Sights along the way.
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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 is just something about being surrounded by water, feeling the ocean breeze flowing through your hair and the sand between your toes!
Having visited many islands in my life and Florida on many occasions, Sanibel Island had somehow escaped me, although I had spent much time in the southern part of the state. I had always heard that it was the Shelling Capitol of the World and I was curious to see what this meant. Would the shells be so plentiful that they would pave a path along the beaches?
After leaving Key West and driving to the mainland, my husband and I decided that we needed to head to the western part of the state and check it out for ourselves. Finding our way to the Sanibel Inn, we checked in and took a quick walk to the beach. The weather wasn’t cooperating at the moment, so our stay was short, but just long enough to see how many shells were embedded in the sand at the top of the beach near the hotel’s path. Grabbing a few, I took them back to the room and gave them a quick washing. Seeing what I had motivated me to wake up early the next morning for an early scavenging.
As dim daylight filtered through the drawn curtains, my alarm went off. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed and heading to the window, I was a bit dismayed to find that while there was daylight, there was no sunlight. In fact, the sky was dark and a light drizzle was falling.
Well, it might not be tanning weather, but I had brought a hat and a raincoat.
Walking along the narrow beach, I collected shell after shell. Canvasing every square inch, I collected many similar ones with ideas for craft projects swimming around in my head. My bag was full when I headed back inside our hotel and the sun was finally starting to show its face. It was a good day…sand, shells and sun!
Before heading back to the beach for some swimming and tanning, we decided to take a quick drive to see what the twelve mile island had to offer.
Driving from one end to the other, we admired the beautiful homes that lined the shores in Captiva and then eventually found our way to the Sanibel Lighthouse at the eastern end of the island.
The Sanibel Island Lighthouse park encompasses the entire tip of the island. Attracting visitors for the wide array of activities is offers, we found the parking lots packed with vehicles for those visiting the beach, the fishing pier and of course, the lighthouse.
Having just been to the lighthouse in Key West, it was interesting to see the differences between the two. Though visitors are allowed around the historic lighthouse, none are allowed to climb the 127 steps to the top of the 98 foot structure, like we were in Key West.
Much like the Key West structure, the lighthouse was built in the 1800s by settlers of the island. First lit on August 20th, 1884 with kerosene oil, the lighthouse keeper, Dudley Richardson, the keeper from 1884 until 1892, had to get to the top of the lighthouse by walking up an external spiral staircase. Various other keepers followed Richardson and lived on the premises in the structures you can still see today.
In 1949, the job was discontinued and the lighthouse became automated. The lighthouse continued its duty until 1972 when the Coast Guard proposed that it be decommissioned. The mariners in the area and the residents, however, opposed and halted the idea. In 1982, the buildings on the premises were offered to Sanibel residents to live in for free in exchange for its maintenance. In 2004, the Coast Guard gave the lighthouse to the City of Sanibel and it was restored in 2013.
It was nice to walk around the premises, although the museum was not open, and we ventured out to the crowded beach area. We also took a walk on the pier and watched the fisherman and the boats that passed nearby.
Finally, we headed back to our little beach, which had become smaller with the incoming tide, and relaxed while watching the large number of birds that come to enjoy the clear waters.
And of course, I grabbed a few more shells!
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One of the most famous and most visited landmarks of Key West is the former home of writer Ernest Hemingway.
Hemingway and his second wife, journalist Pauline Pfeiffer, made Key West their home after leaving Paris and returning to the United States in 1928. Enchanted by the island at the southern end of the Florida Keys, they purchased a home on one of the largest private lots in the city and settled into to the laid back and permissive lifestyle that the remote U.S. city offered.
The home, which stood on one of the most elevated spots on the island, was well constructed to endure the ferocity of the Caribbean hurricane seasons. It was lovingly restored and filled with European antiques that Hemingway purchased on his frequent trips abroad.
As we waited in the oppressive heat for our tour to start and were admiring the home’s stunning Spanish Colonial exterior, a cat or two wove their way around our feet. Figuring they were strays that had made their way onto the property, we followed our tour guide into the home and listened as he regaled us with tales of Hemingway’s colorful life.
Making our way through the living spaces that the writer shared with his wife and noting his cherished keepsakes, we also noted a cat or two…or three. Now, seeing cats outside was one thing, but there was a cat sleeping near the floor-to-ceiling window, one stretched out on the dining room table and another lounging on the bathroom window sill. An avid fan of architecture, I am usually engrossed in the details of historic homes and their furnishings, however, instead of appreciating the beautiful yellow patterned tile in the bathroom and Hemingway’s hunting trophies, I was playing spot the cat!
The guide led us up to the top floor’s rooms including the bedroom and there…on the bed…another cat!
We moved out to the gallery, admiring the nearby Key West Light House, and finally learned the story of the Hemingway cats.
As the story goes, Hemingway was given Snow White, a white six-toed cat, as a gift by a sea captain…a very auspicious gift, as polydactyl cats are thought by sailors to bring good luck. The cats on the property, between fifty and sixty, are descendants of Snow White. The cats bear the names of celebrities such as Marilyn Monroe and Humphrey Bogart and live a fat and happy life within the home and on the premises.
Making our way down the back stairs and into the back garden, we spied more of Snowball’s descendants sprawled out in the shade taking afternoon siestas. As we headed back upstairs to take a look inside the carriage house where Hemingway’s office was located and where he penned “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” and “For Whom the Bell Tolls”, there was another cat, no doubt dreaming about the inspiration that once occurred here.
Finally, we made our way to the rear of the property to lay our eyes on the inviting swimming pool, the first of the Florida Keys, that was installed by Pauline Pfeiffer as a surprise for her husband. Not something that he would have spent his hard-earned money on, he angrily (and a bit melodramatically) threw a penny into the pool, indicating that she had spent his last hard cent, despite the fact that it was paid for with her money. Pauline kept the penny and had it embedded in the concrete near the pool. Though he was not initially impressed with the addition to his home, it grew on him and he eventually had a six foot wall erected around the property so that he could swim nude, privy to only his wife’s and cat’s eyes.
Stopping to inspect the penny, which is still present, we also ducked into the gift shop which displayed books and gifts for sale and yes…a cat…sleeping high on one of the shelves!
As we made our way to the exit gates, we took note of the small houses erected for the cats tucked between the lush growth of the property. We also stopped by the Cat Cemetery and discovered the graves, etched with the deceased cats famous names. We paid our respects to Kim Novak, Willard Scott, Collette Colbert, Liz Taylor and all of the others who came before them.
What I though the most interesting was there was a cat named Pauline Pfeiffer! I wonder if she liked swimming in the beautiful pool?
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Maybe because Cuba was denied to U.S. citizens for so long, it is a place that has held a place of honor at the top of many bucket lists when it was finally opened up again.
There were many times when I thought I would work it into my travel schedule. Sometimes something else came up…or the flights were full…or I just plain chickened out. The fact that there was no cellphone service and no connection to the mainland honestly frightened me, especially if I was going to travel there by myself or with my children.
But, each time that I didn’t take that risk, I wanted to kick myself later.
Seeing some free time on my schedule, earlier this year, I decided that I was definitely going to make this trip to Cuba happen!
Maybe.
I hoped.
Since I was going to be traveling standby, I had to watch the flights carefully and my accommodations had to be booked only when I absolutely knew that I was going to make it there.
At two in the morning, I still wasn’t sure if I was going to leave for Havana in the morning. I lay in bed struggling with the decision, my stomach in knots, wondering if I was doing the right thing. On a whim, I messaged a few Airbnb owners and explained my situation. I was going to catch an early flight to Atlanta, arriving around 7:30 a.m. At that point, I would watch the flight to Havana for an hour and then reach out to make my reservation. My biggest question was whether or not I would have enough time to hear back from them to confirm the reservation and for them to forward me the address of the accommodation. If I landed with no cell service and no address…well, you can see why I was stressed.
Almost immediately, one of the owner’s responded. He understood my circumstances and right away, sent me the address. He told me that he would await my reservation at the appointed time and that he could also arrange for a car and driver to pick me up at the airport.
One hurdle down. I could get an hour’s sleep.
After arriving at the airport, I watched the flight which was departing in four hours and after deciding that I would probably make it, I set up the reservation and secured the car and driver.
Hurdle two, down.
Settling down at the gate, I filled out the visa paperwork that was required and paid the visa fee. The agents had a lot to do with the visa processing of the other passengers and the boarding process and I stood by nervously praying that I had not made the Airbnb reservation unnecessarily. Finally, the agent motioned me over to the counter, giving me a seat assignment and my proof of insurance.
Hurdle three, down.
Walking down the jetway, I thought, “This is my last chance to bail. Am I making the right decision?”
My seat was in first class and much to the dismay of the gentleman next to me, he suddenly learned that I was infringing upon the extra space that he thought he was going to have. Graciously, however, he greeted me and informed me that he had cleaned my seat with his supply of Lysol wipes!
As we began to speak, I told him how nervous I was and learned that this was his 120th trip to Cuba! You know how they say that sometimes things happen for a reason? Well, I must have been placed next to this man for the sole purpose of making me feel good about my decision to travel to Havana on my own.
At one time, he worked as a contractor for my airline when the need arose for a liaison between the airline and the government for the onset of the initial service. Prior to that and currently, he worked and is working as a tour operator. After learning where I was staying, he made me feel extremely confident about my decision as he had booked clients at this particular property. He was surprised to hear how hesitant I was, despite having traveled around the world, sometimes solo, and assured me that I would be completely safe. After giving me a list of restaurant recommendations and special items of interest, he reached up into his baggage and pulled out a Cuban tour book. Opening it to the Old Havana section, he suggested that I spend the flight looking through it and photographing the sections that interested me.
The book was outstanding and by the time I spotted the lush, green landscape sprawling below, I was only feeling excited anticipation!
Exiting customs and immigration, I exchanged currency and then spotted a driver holding a sign with my name. As he led me into the parking lot, my breath caught a little in my chest. I had heard about the antique cars that populate the city, but this was my first glimpse of the many positioned in the lot and my driver led me to a beautiful, old turquoise Ford. It was thrilling to ride in such a beautiful antique and though I don’t speak much Spanish and he didn’t speak much English, we managed a few pleasantries and we embarked on the journey towards my hotel in Old Havana.
After an enlightening forty-five minute drive (yes, the airport is that far!), we turned onto a narrow street and pulled in front of the building that houses Havana Dream, the Airbnb that was going to be my home for the next three nights. I thanked my lucky stars that we had arranged a driver to meet me as the building was nondescript and probably would have been difficult for a regular cab driver to find.
Greeted warmly by my host and his manager, I was shown to my room, a very modern and well-appointed space with a small balcony overlooking the street and down to the National Capitol building. What a sight!
I had made it!
Now what?
Last hurdle. I needed to go out. After quizzing the house manager about the time of sunset and safety measures, I decided to take a rousing shower and dress casually enough for going out, yet smartly enough to stay out for dinner and the return before dark.
Descending the stairs, I cautiously opened the door and stepped out onto Obrapia Street.
Despite not having had decided to travel here a mere twelve hours earlier, I was finally here. My 76th country! I had mounted many hurdles to get here and it was time to see what lay in store for me.
Old Havana was out there waiting to be discovered!
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Note: ATM machines and credit cards do not work for American credit cards in Cuba. American cash and other currencies can be exchanged at the airport. Bring more currency than you expect to use. Though my Airbnb arranged for the transportation, I was responsible for the fare, 30CUC. My Airbnb also provided currency exchange when needed at local, published bank rates. Additionally, wifi cards could be purchased from my Airbnb which could be used while at my accommodations, however, because I was using an Iphone, once the card’s service was initiated, it was prudent to use all of the minutes allotted or risk losing it.
