Spring Break 2019 in Tbilisi, Georgia

CLICK HERE for the photos with captions

Spring Break in Georgia, 2019

By

Randall D. Ball

            Late Friday night, Khalil took us to the airport for another of those early-morning (3:00 AM) flights, this time to Doha for a ten-hour(!) layover where the highlight was breakfast and lunch at the same restaurant.  At least the Doha airport is ranked fourth in the world, so not a bad place for a long stay (much better than Jeddah!).  Then we took an evening flight to Tbilisi, Georgia; our total flight time was almost half that of the time spent in the Doha airport.  A taciturn driver from the hotel in Tbilisi met us at the airport and transferred us to the hotel Saturday night.

            Sunday was a day to relax.  Anastasia and I walked around the neighborhood sometime after our late breakfast (we all slept in after not getting much sleep on the short flights the previous night).  She and I were scoping out potential eateries, mostly, but we also walked around a few small parks in the area too.  Then we all had a late lunch at a nearby local restaurant, enjoying some very popular, traditional dumplings called khinkhali, plus a Georgian pizza and some grilled pork.  Grilled pork would become a staple of our meals.  The food in Georgia was very good; we never had a bad meal.  Even the hotel breakfast was good and varied, with eggs (typically, scrambled, hard-boiled, and fried were all offered), potatoes (mashed, salad or dumplings), sausages, cold cuts, cheese, pastries, beets (yes, beets for breakfast—salad too), veggies, fresh bread, and jam. 

            Monday, our tour actually started.  It was snowing in Tbilisi, much to the surprise of our guide for the day, George (George from Georgia), who changed the schedule a bit for us to accommodate the inclement weather.  Instead of the Tbilisi city tour scheduled, we would postpone that for the next day, opting instead for the wine tour in the Kakheti region of eastern Georgia, where the weather forecast was more pleasant that day.  The drive did take us into the mountains, so the girls not only saw snow, but they saw it falling (a first for them).  After brief stops at two side-by-side mountain monasteries, the Shuamta Monasteries—the “new” one was 400 years old, we visited the Tunnel Winery Khareba’s, where wine is stored in cave tunnels six miles inside a mountain, about 26,000 bottles, according to the winery tour guide.  We had a brief tour of the winery (only about half a mile of the cave tunnels, if that) and tasted a few samples before heading to the wonderfully-quaint village of Signaghi—the “city of love.”  We ate a huge lunch (also our dinner, simultaneously) there: cooked beans in clay pots, grilled pork and chicken, lamb stew, mushrooms—we were stuffed.  Afterwards, we toured the Monastery of St. Nino at Bodbe, with its pretty terraces and gardens.  It’s run by nuns, and it shows.  It’s a beautiful location, with spectacular landscaping.  Then we headed back to Tbilisi with the sun setting against the rolling hills.  A picturesque ending to a very pleasant day.

            The next day was our city tour, beginning with the new (2004) Holy Trinity Church, an impressive, beautiful cathedral, the third-largest Orthodox cathedral in the world after ones in St. Petersburg and Moscow.  As we drove around town, our guide (not the same fellow as yesterday’s George, and we never quite caught his name, but it sounded a bit like “Broccoli”) pointed out various landmarks, such as the opera house and Tbilisi’s own “seven-star hotel,” the Biltmore.  At one point, he said, “On your left is U.S. Embassy.”  He pointed; it was a McDonalds.  It was also in town where I saw a car with a University of Georgia Bulldogs sticker on it.  Funny stuff.

            Then a drive up a hill took us to the open-air Museum of Ethnography, showcasing village life around Georgia with various houses from past eras.  The highlight for the girls was chasing little lizards there, but bigger animals—namely, stray dogs—were the biggest zoological attraction in Georgia.  The country does well tracking and caring for these strays, which are ubiquitous and mostly friendly, much to Talula’s delight in particular.

            We then drove through Old Town and up a mountain to Mtatsminda Park, a little theme park with various attractions (Ferris wheel, roller coaster, ghost castle, small wax museum, kiddie rides) and some stunning views of the city below.  Here, the animal contact became the girls’ favorite part:  a petting zoo, with rabbits, cats, turtles, pigs, ostriches, horses, cows, goats, a lizard, and a snake.  Talula of course jumped at the chance to hold the corn snake;  meanwhile, Anastasia spent half her time suspiciously eyeing the wandering turkey in case it attacked.

            We had lunch (corn bread, cheese, veggies, chicken in garlic sauce) on the same mountain top before returning to Old Town, where we took a cable car (something else that frightened Anastasia) up to Narikala Fortress.  From there, we made our way down the hill, stopping at the sulfur baths district (a rickety, old, iron, winding outdoors staircase to the waterfall was something else to scare poor Anastasia—today was like Fear Factor for her), crossing the Bridge of Peace over the Mtkvari River, and walking through Rike Park on our way back to the car and then the hotel.

            The following day, we drove to Mtskheta to walk about another hilltop location, Jvari Monastery, with its beautiful views (and strategic military placement in Medieval times).  Then a longer drive took us to Uplistsikhe Cave Town, where the girls really enjoyed climbing around and exploring.  Again, the views were fantastic.  Then we drove to Gori to tour the Stalin Museum, his birth house, and his train wagon.  Propaganda out of the way, we had lunch: corn bread with beans in clay pots and more grilled pork.  From there we returned to Mtskheta (the actual town below in the valley, rather than the earlier hilltop spot) to visit Svetitskhoveli, a cathedral where the robe of Jesus Christ is allegedly kept.  According to legend, a Georgia Jew from Mtskheta was in Jerusalem when Christ was crucified, and he bought the robe from a Roman soldier.  He then gave it to his sister, who became so overwhelmed she died on the spot, still clutching the robe.  They couldn’t get it out of her death grasp, so she was buried at the church with the robe still in her hands. 

            We walked briefly around some markets in the little town and tried some ice cream wine, which wasn’t bad.  Then it was back to the hotel.  Shortly afterward, Anastasia was hungry again (she is a bottomless pit these days), so I took her out for pork shawarma.

            Thursday was a day of surprises.  We headed westward again, passing Mtskheta and heading into the Caucasus Mountains.  As we stopped for a view of the Jinvali water reservoir, we had our first surprise:  the unmistakable sound of a hissing tire.  While our driver “Broccoli” took care of the flat, the girls pet yet another stray dog.  Then we continued up the mountain to the Medieval

Ananuri Fortress on the Aragvi River, which included a pretty tricky climb up castle walls to the tower.  Going down was even harder.  Then we headed further up the mountains; the change from a little drizzle to snow was pretty quick and dramatic.  At 7200 feet above sea level, nearing our destination of Kazbegi, with snow drifts on the side of the road up to fifteen feet high, our next surprise awaited:  the road was closed.  Our guide expressed concern about going onward anyway; as he told us, he was once stranded up there for three days.  So we turned around and headed down to Gudauri Ski Resort, where the snow was still falling hard and the girls took about thirty minutes for snow angels, snowball fights, and general play in knee-deep snow, much more snow than they had ever seen.  That much snow was something of a surprise; we had expected some, maybe along the lines of what we saw Monday, but this was a lot.  And it kept coming down.

            When we told the driver we were ready to go, he seemed relieved to be headed back down the mountain before conditions worsened.  It was past time for lunch by then (we tended to eat twice a day on this trip:  a late, 9:00 AM breakfast followed by a mid-afternoon or later “lunch”), and our driver suggested the “Little Taj,” an actual Indian restaurant in the isolated mountains.  He knew we were coming from Pakistan, and many of his clients were Indians (an unusual number of tourists come from India, in addition to the expected ones from Russia, Turkey, and Iran—the military road up to Kazbegi was an international one, ultimately leading to the Russian border just a few miles from where we were, but I saw license plates from Georgia, Russia, Armenia, Belarus, Ukraine, and Azerbaijan).  We declined the offer of Indian food, however—we can get curry and biryani anytime, so we headed further down to a local Georgian restaurant in Pasanauri, best known for its homemade khinkhali (dumplings), which were truly delicious.  Also tasty were the sauteed mushrooms with cheese and the pan-fried pork with onions and potatoes, a truly good final meal in Georgia (except for Anastasia, of course, who would eat more shawarma later that evening).  We were back at our hotel—surprise!—early, at 4:30 PM, rather than the anticipated 9:00 PM.  The only thing we really missed was offroading in Kazbegi to Gergeti Trinity Church on Mount Kazbeg (which tops out at 16,512 feet), but it was so snowy and foggy we wouldn’t have seen anything even if the road had been opened.  But everyone had a good time regardless.

            Friday after breakfast at the hotel, we left for the airport.  The lasting image I will have of the Tbilisi airport was what we saw while waiting at the gate:  two truckloads of cattle went by, between the planes and the jet bridges, on their way somewhere.  I joked that it was standard economy class on Air Arabia, one of the discount airlines that flies through there.  Our layover in Doha was considerably shorter, and before we knew it, we were landing one last time at the Lahore Airport, where Khalil was waiting for us at 1:40 AM with a big smile and a warm greeting.  It was a good trip, but it was also good to be home, even if that home is just about to change.  The next travelogue will originate from what will be our new home:  Jeju Island, South Korea.

So where y'all want to move next?

I do love teaching overseas. But I would like to share a few stats about our job search this year for all of those people (numerous people- don't feel bad!) who have innocently asked 'So where y'all want to move next?'

• On 29 August, we became active with Search Associates, an organization who in their own words 'assist over 3,000 candidates secure positions abroad, making us by far the premier international recruitment organization.'
• We applied to our first school on September 28th. (We officially gave up our jobs in late October and thus became unemployed for the next school year.)
• One hundred twenty-six days later we received the job offer we plan to accept. 
• During that time, we applied to 50 schools in 33 countries (Argentina, Bahamas, Brazil, Chile, China, Colombia, Croatia, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Egypt, El Salvador, Honduras, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Japan, Jordan, Lebanon, Mexico, Morocco, Myanmar, Oman, Panama, Peru, Philippines, Senegal, Singapore, South Korea, Sri Lanka, Tanzania, Thailand, Trinidad and Tobago, Tunisia, and Vietnam).
• Of those, we received some form of feedback from at most half. Often something along the lines 'Despite being a strong candidate, ...' 
• Many schools are overwhelmed by applications, with as many as a couple hundred applications per position at the more prestigious schools. 
• We engaged in email/conversations with about 10 schools total, extensively interviewed with 4 (2-6 interviews/school) and received offers from two.
• We averaged 4-6 interviews per week in January 2019. Some interviews were conducted as a couple, but many were done individually. All were completed via Skype and Google Hangouts with varying levels of internet strength.
• Due to the schools' locations around the world, we interviewed mainly before school (starting as early as 5:30 am) and after school (until as late as 8:30 pm) to avoid missing work.
• After all of this, I can say we are going to a school that fixed some of our main push-factors, but that there will still be challenges. Of course, no school is perfect.

These facts do not hint at the frustrations, heartbreaks, self-doubt, anxiety, or sleep lost. I have not tried to calculate the hours spent searching for schools offering positions that both of us would be able to teach, applying for those jobs, writing letters of introduction, checking email for notifications/responses from schools, preparing for the interviews or time spent deliberating options.

Job-hunting in the international school circuit is not for the faint of heart. Thank God it's over.

2018 Egypt for Christmas

click this link to view all the images by Christine, Anastasia and Talula

An Egyptian Christmas

By

Randall D. Ball

            Our Christmas holiday began, as it often does, on the “Freedom Flight”—one of those first flights out as soon as school is over.  This time, Saturday, 22 December, we flew through Jeddah on Saudi Airlines to Cairo, Egypt.  Jeddah was not a great place for an extended layover, however; it’s a bad terminal:  overcrowded, filthy, small.  And we would spend five hours there on the way back as well.  Unfortunately, we missed our connection and had to spend an extra three hours at that airport.  Upon our late arrival in Cairo, our cab driver had a tough time trying to find our “hotel,” which was just a small apartment in a residential neighborhood in the Maadi District of the city.  What should’ve taken 45 minutes took about 70.

            Sunday morning, we were up and searching the hood for food and caffeine.  Just around the corner from our digs (digs, get it?  Cairo, archaeology, digs?), we found a little stand selling juice, Coke, and chips—OR we’ll go ahead and call it breakfast.  Our tour guide for the day (with the easy-to-remember name Mohammed) also had difficulty finding us, but once he did, we were off to Giza to the Pyramids and the Sphinx.  Anastasia the budding archaeologist was keen to see the Pyramids, while Talula the cat lady was excited to gaze upon the Sphinx, which is smaller than one may imagine, but Talula’s primary complaint:  “I want to see a real one.”  Good luck with that.

            After a nice lunch (the usual:  mixed grill, mezze, bread) at a rooftop restaurant with a view of the Pyramids, we then visited a papyrus “factory” or “museum” (a shop) before heading for Memphis.  No Graceland at this one, though.  We saw the Pyramids of Dahshur and from a distance the Bent Pyramid—bent because it’s all wonky.  It’s an experiment gone awry, with an angle that didn’t quite work and had to be adjusted, giving it the bent nature of its namesake.  Also, Anastasia discovered a new tomb—it turned out to be a sewer access point, however.  Our tour ended for the day at a comfortable hotel out by the airport.

            The following day, our second guide in two days met us at the hotel and took us to the Egyptian Museum.  The girls were fascinated by the mummy exhibits, especially the one of a child and a queen with her baboon.  Mummified Baboons:  band name?  We then ventured into Coptic Cairo to visit a few churches, including the Church of St. Sergius (built over a cave where the holy family spent a few months on their visit to Egypt over 200 years ago).  We also saw the Ben Ezra Synagogue and the Hanging Church, hanging because it’s built over an old Roman watergate.

            Another lunch of mixed grill and mezze, and then we visited Khan el Khalili Bazaar, a colorful and historic area of old Cairo with all sorts of shops where the vendors try to part you with your hard-earned cash.  Some of the common lines you hear: 

            “Hello, my friend...”

            “Where are you from?”

            “No charge to look...free to come in, just browse...”

            “Only one dollar...or five pounds” (odd since five Egyptian pounds is about 28 cents).

            But my favorite lines:  “Are you Rambo?” one vendor asked me.  Clever—get a laugh, put the person off guard, etc.  The other line, which I overheard one vendor call out to a tourist:  “How can I take your money today?”  Funny stuff.

            We had a fancy dinner back at the hotel, at their Italian restaurant, a good way to spend Christmas Eve.  We had some seafood and pasta while a strolling musician played the guitar.

            We were up early for a short flight south to Upper Egypt (upper because it’s at a higher elevation—thus Lower Egypt is north of Upper Egypt).  We landed in Aswan, where we met our third tour guide in as many days, Kero, who would be with us for the next several days, unfortunately.  Problems with Kero:

1.       The first thing we noticed about him was his dependence on his notes.  He read from all his information on the first day as we rode in the van.

2.      Which leads us to that information:  He talked way too much.  At each tourist site or point of interest, he could go on and on about a series of names and historical events, overloading us even after we would tell him, “Enough.”

3.      He surprised us when we got to the cruise ship.  The cruise wouldn’t depart for another 48 hours; we suddenly had a lot of time on our hands.

4.      He would assume things that you shouldn’t:  The best example would be at the Valley of the Kings, where he just assumed we didn’t wish to pay the extra $15.00 camera fee and we ended up not getting photographs inside the tombs.

5.      Did I mention he was a walking Wikipedia of information at each site?  Seriously, the dude could not stop talking.

But we had some laughable moments too (at his expense).  In Aswan, he pointed out a gas station:  “There’s a gas station on the left.”  Christine and I just glanced at each other, both thinking, “Huh?”

Two days later, in another town up the river:  “Over there is a bakery...for bread.”

Oh, that kind of bakery.

            “On the right is a cemetery.  It’s where they bury their dead.” 

            Oh, so that kind of cemetery.  Good to know.

            Two days later:  “There’s a gas station on the left...for the cars.  And the trucks.”

            So the rest of the trip, Christine and I would point out random places to each other or define things unnecessarily:

            “On the right is a pharmacy.”

            “Look at that book—the one with words that you read.”

            “I see a restaurant—where people go to eat food.”

            “There’s a shoe shop.  They sell shoes.”

            Back to that first day in Aswan:  We visited the Upper Dam, the old Aswan Dam, the Unfinished Obelisk, and a perfume “factory” (another shop).  We took a local felucca boat to Agilkia Island, where we spent about 90 minutes at the Temple of Philae.  We enjoyed 20 minutes of it; the remaining 70 minutes was Kero talking.  But it was an island, and it was Christmas Day.  So technically, we spent yet another Christmas on an island—our eighth in a row.  It almost counts.

            Our boat, the MS Voyager, was decent, though.  The crew were very friendly, and there was a sun deck (with a pool, but too cold), a buffet restaurant for all our meals, a bar/lounge area that was good for playing Uno with the girls.  So after our morning tour of Aswan and Agilkia Island on Christmas Day, we spent the next day just relaxing on the boat...the boat that didn’t move for the first 48 hours that we were on it.

            Thursday afternoon, however, the excitement had built up...and we were finally moving!  Once we started cruising the Nile, the view became more interesting as we passed farms and small villages, with the desert in the background as a clear contrast to the green around the Nile.  We had afternoon tea on the sun deck, like civilized people, and that evening, we visited Kom Ombo Temple, getting a unique night-time perspective of a temple.  We also saw a small museum dedicated to mummified crocodiles, which left an impression on the girls.

            Early the next morning, before breakfast or even coffee, we sailed to Edfu to see the Temple of Horus, taking a horse-and-buggy to get there and back from the ship.  Fortunately, we were back at the ship and enjoying our meal by 8:00 am.  That afternoon, we crossed Esna Dam, going through a lock and dropping at least seven meters.  Shortly afterward, our guide Kero did something right:  He arranged a meeting with the ship captain on the bridge, where Anastasia and Talula both got to honk the ship’s horn.  He didn’t offer to let me steer (although I do have my boating license), but he did invite us to tea.  The view from the bridge was excellent, and it did create a pleasant, lasting memory. 

            Also Friday afternoon, two guys in a small rowboat appeared, tied up to our cruise ship, and started selling carpets from their little boat.  If a person were interested, they’d launch the carpet straight up onto the top deck of the ship, five levels up.  I was hoping someone would buy because I wanted to see how they’d collect money, but no one did.

            Saturday morning after breakfast, docked in Luxor, we took a felucca across the Nile and then boarded a van for the Colossi of Memnon, the Valley of the Kings, an alabaster “factory” (yes, a shop), tasty lunch overlooking the Nile, Luxor Temple, and the huge, sprawling Karnak Temple.  Then we returned to our cruise ship for two hours to await our transfer to the airport.  It was a long day, but it wasn’t quite over.  Our flight from Luxor to Cairo was delayed about 45 minutes, and when we finally landed in Cairo 30 minutes after midnight, our ride to the hotel was nowhere to be seen.  After a series of chaotic phone calls, he arrived, and then our hotel was changed.  Not sure if the hotel gave our room away to someone else or what, but the replacement hotel, even closer to the airport, clearly wasn’t ready for us.  The housekeeper was desperately trying to clean the room and make the beds, while we waited, exhausted zombies at this point, in the hallway.  He even forgot the towels and soap.  But by 2:00 am we were in...and we crashed.

            The next morning was a slow start, and we lingered over breakfast while trying to get coffee that wasn’t just hot water with a single bean’s worth of java.  Then we transferred from the airport hotel to one right downtown, near Tahrir Square and the Egyptian Museum in an older building at a fairly busy intersection.  The room advertised a city view (we overlooked that busy intersection), and the bathroom had a leak in the ceiling, so the bathroom floor was wet.  Christine and I just shrugged it off; we had seen worse.  We took an afternoon stroll that ultimately led to a falafel-shawarma place, where we gorged on shawarma and grilled chicken.  It was nice to be on our own after a week of tour guides, to just be spontaneous. 

            After a lazy Monday morning, New Year’s Eve, we finally walked to Tahrir Square and then across the Nile River to Nadi al-Qahjra Gardens and a pedestrian corniche, where we ate chicken outside by the river while men with snakes walked around trying to get money for photographs.  When we returned to our little hotel, the front desk clerk asked us why we didn’t report the bathroom leak.  His housekeeper had informed him.  We said we thought it was normal, and he was horrified.  “I’ll have workers here in 30 minutes,” he promised.   Apparently, we’re just a little too accustomed to staying in crappy hotels.

            Tuesday morning, while I was ordering breakfast at our hotel, the same front desk clerk asked me if it had stopped raining last night.  He responded to my confused look by saying, “You know, in the bathroom.”  I laughed and nodded.  “Yes, it stopped raining.”

            We had another lazy morning.  Between the rough night (New Year’s Eve celebrations outside on the street lasted way into the night while we tried to sleep) and us just being worn out, it was reason enough.  Anastasia and I went out for lunch at a historic, 110-year-old, cafe nearby (Cafe Riche), where two of the waiters were probably as old as that building itself.  Then we went for a walk through the busy city streets while Talula and Christine relaxed back at the hotel.  Later, we all walked a few blocks and crossed some crazy Cairo streets to dine at The Birdcage, a Thai restaurant at the Intercontinental Hotel right on the Nile (the girls also had ice cream in the downstairs lobby).  Stepping out of the hotel, we were treated to a beautiful sunset on the river toward Giza.

            Wednesday was our last day in Cairo.  The previous night, Anastasia and I had slipped into a bakery (that’s a place where they bake bread; source: Kero the Wiki-guide) downstairs and picked up some pastries to complement our breakfast.  The two of us also spent time wandering the streets—she enjoyed soaking up the atmosphere of the busy city streets at night.  After breakfast, we walked Christine to the Egyptian Museum so she could explore sans guide for a few hours.  The girls and I took our Uno card game to Cafe Riche, where we had Turkish coffee, hot tea, and Pepsi (I’ll let you figure who had what).  Early afternoon, we met Christine back at the Intercontinental Hotel, where we ate at Sabaya Lebanese restaurant, right next to The Birdcage.  This time, we didn’t see the guy we had seen on the previous two days, the one who would claim a street was closed just so he could get you into his shop.  There are a lot of such nefarious attempts to lure tourists in.  Even asking for directions usually leads to “Come into my shop” or “Just let me give you my business card” (which, conveniently for them, is never on their person; it’s “just in their shop...only take a second”).  I started turning the tables on them:

            “Hello, my friend.  Welcome back,” goes the common line, even if they’ve never seen you before.  “Where are you from you have a lovely family you look Egyptian I give you good deal please come look at my souvenirs I give good price do you want _____?”

            So I responded, “No, I take you on tour of Cairo.”  The guy blinks.  “You give me money, and I take you on tour.  I give you good price.  I make a good deal just for you.”

            The tout laughs and we’re done.  It’s a bit like when someone in Pakistan wants my photograph.  I say, “500 Rupees” (about five dollars).  It throws them off and essentially rejects them but with a sense of humor.  That’s one good tip, whether in the classroom, on the road, or just in life:  Use that funny bone.  Have some fun.  Keep laughing.

2018 North Pakistan

A Quick Trip into the Lower Himalayas

By Randall D. Ball

SEE PHOTOS HERE by Christine Meunier

Early Monday morning, the day after Easter, we joined a small tour group (our family of four, fellow teachers at LAS Sara and Rose, our guide Arshad, a security guard Hossnain, and a driver Haroon) for a trip up north into the Himalayas.  Our first day was mostly driving:  four hours to Islamabad via motorway, breakfast, then another two and a half hours up the more winding Kashmir Road to Nathiagali.  We relaxed that afternoon, enjoying the mountain view from our hotel room (Hotel Elites, which was nice enough but not quite up to its name) and only going out briefly for dinner (pizza and ice cream about a five-minute drive down the mountain at a little place called Sweet Tooth, where I ran into three students, of course—no escaping them!).

                

Tuesday was a day in Nathiagali.  After breakfast at the hotel, we spent the morning walking up a little mountain road to St. Mathew’s Church, no longer in operation, just a tourist site now.  Once we found the watchman, who kindly let us in once he hear foreigners were there to see it, we were allowed inside.  Built in 1914 by the British, the church stands tall along a mountain ridge surrounded by  cedars and pines...and a barbed wire fence.  After a good Pakistani lunch (redundant, I know), we then hiked up the steep trail toward Mukshpuri.  At the trailhead, there is a fork—both trails lead to the same spot, but one is a more gradual (and thus longer but easier) climb.  I could have sworn the guide told us we were taking the easier climb, but from the start, it looked like the steeper version.  About half way up, Anastasia was done, and I gladly offered to stay behind with her while the others continued upwards, although they didn’t make it to the top either.  Anastasia has this fairly-recent fear of heights, unfortunately, which was severely tested on this trip.  She also spent a lot of time worrying:  that we wouldn’t make it down the trail before dark and they’d close the gate and we’d have to sleep in the mountains, that an earthquake might split the mountain in two while we were up there, that a rock might slide down and squish us, and so forth.  She has quite the imagination—I’ll give her that.  Talula, meanwhile, was loving the snow—and our guide Arshad.  She talked his ear off and spent a lot of time hanging out with him, seldom leaving his side.  He was very good with her, though, and I know she loved the attention.  Dinner that night was back at Sweet Tooth, but we only felt like ice cream.  I teased Anastasia that we didn’t earn all of our ice cream and would just have to share one.

                

Wednesday was another long drive day, through winding roads with the speed-demon driver Haroon.  We drove through Abbottabad (yes, that Abbottabad),  Mansehra, Balakot (the Kunhar River swiftly churns through the middle of town, and there are some fun-looking bridges in the vicinity, including an adventurous suspension bridge or two), and finally up some serious switch-backs to Kiwai, a little village where some restaurants have set up tables at the base of a series of waterfalls.  The main reason for Kiwai’s existence, however, is that this is where jeep excursions often begin.  We had to leave our van behind and take jeeps eight kilometers up the mountain to Shogran, our mountaintop resort, where we stayed at the Cedarwood Chair Lift Resort.  Just as the previous hotel didn’t quite live up to its name, this one also lacked something in its name:  the chair lift.  We could see part of what once was a chair lift, but it looked as if they built only part of it several years ago and then just let it sit.  Funding problem, perhaps...or an unexpected issue with land rights?  The rooms were nothing spectacular—and the bathrooms were falling apart and leaking away, but the view was truly awesome.  We were on a little green plateau at about 8000 feet above sea level, surrounded by much taller snow-capped mountain peaks.  No matter which direction you looked, you’d see these huge mountains jutting into the sky—we were in the Himalayas.  (Just barely, but we were in them).

                

The following day, we returned to the jeeps, but this time, the track was much rougher as we slowly bumped and were jostled and tossed about as we made our way up Siri Paye.  The jeeps could only take us part of the way.  Then we were dropped off, exchanged our shoes for hiking boots (and walking sticks), and started trekking up the mountain “road” with its mud, snow, ice, and horse poop (you can also ride up and down if you’re not into walking).  We spent the day up in the mountains, with the girls having snowball fights and playing (and Anastasia often forgetting her phobia).  We saw Siri Lake, a picturesque pond really (if it weren’t for the trash that we’ve come to expect in the third world), but never made it as far as Payee Lake.  Talula also rode a horse briefly—she couldn’t decide which she liked more—snow or horses?  (Or Arshad). 

                

Friday, it felt as if we were going in reverse, but in double time.  We took the jeeps back down the mountain, re-joined our van in Kiwai, and made our way back down to the Kaghan Valley and through all those village towns to Abbottabad, where we then took the motorway back to Lahore.  Eleven hours later, we were home, with two more days of spring break to recuperate and relax before those final weeks of school before summer break.

7 Islands Holiday: UAE and the Philippines

CLICK HERE for the Google album with an embarrassing number of photos that only people who really love us could appreciate

UAE and Philippines, Christmas Break, 2017

By Randall D. Ball

            Our annual Christmas holidays on an island hit a new record with seven islands this year:  from Abu Dhabi and Yas Island and Saadiyat Island in the United Arab Emirates to Manila, Cebu, Mactan and Bohol Islands in the Philippines.  The journey started with our usual “Freedom Flight” out of Lahore right after school closed for the winter break.  We flew to Dubai and then drove down to the Dhabi, our old stomping grounds and the birthplace of Anastasia and Talula.  We stayed over on Yas Island across from the Formula One race circuit track, and that night we enjoyed some “Mexican” for dinner at one of the hotel restaurants.

Sunday morning, we went to the Louvre on Saadiyat Island—the art was interesting enough but the building’s architecture was what was truly stunning.  From its spherical structure to its web-like design to the meeting of land and water, it’s an outstanding monument.  We splurged a bit with lunch there, right on the water.  Then we went into the city, into proper Abu Dhabi, driving along the old Corniche to Heritage Village (the girls pet a lot of cats there, and would pet cats throughout our trip, all the time missing their own kittens back home, August and Katrina).  There were plenty of changes along the Abu Dhabi waterfront—several new skyscrapers, certainly.  We stopped at Spinneys (an old grocery store favorite) for picnic items that we brought back to the hotel and ate outside by the playground, thus achieving the trifecta of al fresco dining (breakfast was buffet at the hotel, but they had seating outside).

Monday morning, Christmas Day, we hit nearby Yas Mall to see the movie Coco, which was fun and colorful and entertaining.  Then we returned to Abu Dhabi and our old neighborhood of Khalidiya and our second mall of the day (how Emirati!), where we met our old nanny Noy and had a little lunch followed by a walk to the old apartment building and then to Khalidiya Park.  Anastasia led us most of the way from the mall to our old apartment from memory, but she couldn’t remember much else.  Talula didn’t remember any of it.

Tuesday, after a leisurely morning at the hotel, we drove back to Dubai for our evening flight to Manila.  We landed in the Philippines Wednesday morning and checked into our hotel in Manila (the girls liked it because it rhymes with “vanilla”).  After a brief morning nap and lunch at the hotel, we took it easy by the rooftop pool...and then had dinner at the hotel.  We promised ourselves we’d actually leave the hotel the next day.

Sure enough, Thursday morning, we had breakfast at a nearby French cafe (the coffee and croissants were very tasty, and we briefly met (in passing) the owner, a Frenchman, of course, on our way out).  Then we walked to Ayala Triangle Gardens (a privately-owned garden which is no longer in the shape of a triangle because of further development, unfortunately), where the girls pet and played with cats for quite some time and then we had lunch at a little cafe alongside the gardens.  On our walk back to the hotel, Anastasia and I played “Count the Jeepneys.”  On our twenty-minute walk, we counted 68!  Back at the hotel, it was more time at the pool followed by a nice dinner at the rooftop restaurant adjacent to the pool.

            

Friday, after the same breakfast as yesterday, we walked past Ayala Triangle Gardens to the Greenbelt, a nice tropical garden-and-pond area surrounded by a mall.  We wandered and meandered around for a bit, but there weren’t any cats to pet so the girls were ready to return to the Triangle Gardens that are more like Rhombus Gardens now.  We had a very nice lunch at a better restaurant than the previous day, and then we were back at the hotel for about an hour before catching our ride to the port for a sunset dinner cruise on Manila Bay.  The cruise began, however, well after sunset, so it was really a night-time cruise, but instead of a sunset (which we saw from land anyway), we did get to see some fireworks over the marina.  The dinner was simple but good, and they tried to keep it fairly traditional with a little rice, salad, fruit, and a small helping each of chicken, beef, fried fish, and pork (with pineapple).

            

Saturday, we mixed it up for breakfast by eating doughnuts at the 7 Eleven.  Then we caught a cab (the girls were growing tired of walking) to old downtown Manila and San Augustin Church, oldest church in Manila, founded in 1571, which included a museum and some nice gardens.  We had lunch back in Makati (where our hotel was):  Wendy’s for the girls and crepes for Christine and me, followed by more pool time.  Clearly, we were setting a routine:  sightseeing in the mornings and pool time in the afternoons.

            

That evening, our final one in Manila and the day before New Year’s Eve, we had a memorable dinner at the hotel’s rooftop restaurant.  First, both girls kept returning to the poolside to sit on the pool chairs, with Anastasia flirting with a couple of older boys.  “At least they’re gay,” Christine said.  Yes, Anastasia, keep on flirting with the gay ones.  Meanwhile, Talula broke down in tears when she was told they weren’t serving fried calamari that night.  Wait staff conferred with the chef, who somehow made it happen.  Christine and Anastasia had grilled prawns and I had grilled liempo (pork belly) again.  Anastasia also enjoyed looking over the city, and Talula danced—at least in her seat—to some decent live music.  We even saw some fireworks, which were set off from a nearby building below us.  As Christine said, “I’ve never seen fireworks from above before.”  At the conclusion of the evening, Talula said it was the best restaurant ever.  Success.

            

Sunday morning, we caught an early flight to Cebu City and had a pretty quiet, subdued New Year’s Eve at the hotel (although we did walk over to the Ayala Mall across the street in the late afternoon—Ayala is a big name in the Philippines—there’s some history AND some money there).  That night, Christine and I were awakened by the hotel’s New Year’s Eve festivities, a live band and fireworks to ring in 2018.  Fortunately, by 12:30 it all died down.  Our room overlooked the pool about ten stories below, where the big party was.  The girls slept through it all, somehow.

            

Monday, New Year’s Day, most everything was closed, so we had a long breakfast at the hotel followed by some “play” back in the room involving the girls pretending to be various forms of marine life.  We then sprung for the buffet lunch, including all forms of salads, as long as it’s seafood, meats (I had some pig ears), more fish, pasta, and desserts, the highlight for the girls being the chocolate fondue.  They loved dipping fruit and marshmallows into the flowing “chocolate fountain.”  The afternoon involved plenty of pool time for the girls and drinks by the pool.

            

Tuesday, we took a taxi downtown, where we walked around Fort San Pedro, where the Spanish first occupied the Philippines.  Anastasia and Talula, especially the latter, pet some more cats.  Crossing the Plaza Independencia, we then saw Magellan’s Cross.  The original, planted by Magellan in 1521 right before he was killed on the next island over, is still there, but it’s now encased in tindaloo wood for protection.  From there, we entered Saint Nino Basilica, where we stood in line with all the locals to see the famed doll of baby Jesus inside.  A cab ride to Ayala Mall, across from our hotel, and we had lunch at the Red Lizard, a Mexican restaurant with a wrestling theme in the style of Nacho Libre. 

            

That night back at the hotel, Talula and I had some apparently bad poached grouper in a banana leaf for dinner.  We both got sick, which altered the next day’s plans:  Christine and Anastasia took a day tour to Bohol Island (a two-hour ferry ride over, a tour of the famous Chocolate Hills, a lunch river cruise, a visit with some of the smallest monkeys in the world, the tarsier monkeys, and back to Cebu late).  Talula and I, meanwhile, rested in the morning before finally venturing out to the mall briefly.  We also spent the late afternoon at the pool, when we were feeling better.  Christine and Anastasia got in late, past 9:00 PM (which counts as late for us these days).

            

Thursday morning was a lazy one after an early breakfast, but then we took a taxi downtown to visit two old houses turned into museums:  the Yap-Sandiego Ancestral House (which had a few cats for the girls to OOOOH and AHHHH over) and, around the corner, the even better Casa Gorordo Museum, which provided insight into the history and architecture of the area, especially the Chinese and Spanish influence.  We had a nice lunch at the museum as well.  Also nearby was the Heritage of Cebu Monument, a fascinating series of very tall, connected statues and scenes telling a few tales of Cebu, all as a huge centerpiece around a historic, small square.  The late afternoon was—you guessed it—more pool time.

            

The next day, we had a full-day tour to Kawasan Falls about three hours south of Cebu City near the village of Badian.  The south road took us through busy and often congested coastal cities and then through some mountains to the southwest coast, into a very tropical rainforest with numerous waterfalls.  Along the way, we also passed some cock fighting.  Local color.  Kawasan Falls is a popular spot, as we saw by the sheer number of tourists, mostly Filipino.  A thirty-minute hike along a small river took us to the first, lower falls, but we stopped for lunch about halfway at a pleasant, rustic outdoor (but with a roof) cafe as the rain poured.  The food was simple but good, including rice, vegetable chop suey, and fried calamari, but the highlight was this little boy who clearly belonged to our waitress.  He was probably three years old and helped his mother clear tables, but what he did next—he stood at the top step of the cafe, looking out into the rain, and urinated straight down the main steps to the cafe.  At least he was facing outward.

            

As the rain cleared, we continued our hike.  We didn’t spent time at the lower falls—way too crowded.  But a further, slightly more vigorous, and absolutely more scenic walk to the second falls was worthwhile.  The hike itself was cool, with several unusual, narrow bridges of wood and/or bamboo, and the upper falls weren’t nearly as crowded.  Christine and Talula rented life jackets and swam in the water at the base of the falls.  They even swam behind and through a smaller set of falls.  Some folks were even diving into the water from the top of the waterfalls.  After about three hours, we were back at the parking lot (after a quick dessert stop for some fried banana with sugar), where our driver for the day was waiting to take us back to Cebu City.  Friday night traffic in town was very congested; our final 10-15 kilometers took an hour.

            

That night, I heard sirens—they sounded like fire engine sirens—nearby.  I heard them throughout the night, and they even affected my dreams.  I dreamt that the day after we left, our hotel burned down.

            

In the morning, I heard more sirens and finally looked out the window.  Smoke was pouring from a location just around the corner from our L-shaped hotel, toward the front of the building.  It was Ayala Mall, just across the street, and it was on fire.  The fire raged all day long, so we saw quite a bit of smoke.  Fortunately, most of it was blowing away from us, so we spent much of the day at the pool.  We were modern-day Neros, lounging by the pool while the mall burned.

            

We had some decent poolside lounge chairs, at least, although I was sitting next to—and within earshot—of two vapid Australians having a silly debate over the length of their layover in Manila.  Their flight departed Cebu at 8:30 that night and landed in Manila at 9:45 (no time difference either), and then their connecting flight was at 1:45 in the morning.  They finally settled their debate, agreeing they had just over five hours’ layover in Manila.  Ooops!

            

Soon enough, those girls were replaced by the Selfie Twins, two young Filipino guys who kept posing all over the deck and taking ridiculous selfies.  They also had a rousing, annoyingly boisterous game of Rock-Paper-Scissors right in front of us.

            

Other than that, the occasional smoke from the ongoing fire, and a massive onslaught of an extended Korean family (or five) who occupied the entire pool for an hour, it was a fine way to spend an afternoon.  Christine even got a massage right before dinner (Latino night at the hotel buffet).

            

Sunday was another leisurely morning before we took a taxi ten kilometres—but an hour’s drive (traffic is bad, and our destination, Mactan Island, is the most densely-populated island in the Philippines) to a pretty fancy resort.  As soon as we arrived and took a quick walk around, Talula started getting excited about all the pools and lagoons and things to do. “This is the best place ever!” she declared in a state of awe and joyous anticipation. 

            

So Sunday afternoon we explored the many surrounding pools and swimming lagoons—both salt water and fresh, with water slides, cliff diving, and man-made waterfalls and caves.  Talula even tried archery while Anastasia ran the obstacle course at a “Junior Boot Camp” (think of a children’s version of the Crucible at Parris Island).

            

We also had unlimited free homemade ice cream and milkshakes (the peanut butter chocolate variety was a hit all around).

            

Our evening concluded with a stop at Alien Abduction, a second-floor combination bar/ice cream parlor (yes, you read that right) overlooking the main lagoons with an alien theme, trance music, fun lighting, and even “alien heads” in class containers.  Trippy.

            

Monday, we were up early for breakfast, which also enabled us to get a jump start on others for activities such as:  tandem bike riding, kayaking (the girls even had their own little kayaks for this), more pool time and water slides and cliff diving, and some fun at the game room, where we played table tennis, foosball, and air hockey.

            

We had a picnic lunch on the beach, and then it was time for the girls to have fun at a craft station, first by making dream catchers and then by having their hair braided.  Then they drove little electric Tesla cars around, even earning their own “driver’s license” in spite of their poor driving, crashing into each other, running up on curbs, and even trying to run down innocent pedestrians.  After more archery, boot camp, tandem bike riding, air hockey, and a horse-drawn carriage ride, it was time for dinner, at Palermo, a pasta and tapas place with a European vibe. 

            

After dinner, we caught a Hawaiian luau (we missed the whole roasted pig but not the after-dinner show), with fire dancers and Hula girls and a limbo contest.  Anastasia was picked by one of the dancers to be one of the audience participants and was clearly ecstatic.

            

All this was just one day.

            

Tuesday was more of the same and then some:  Talula woke us up early again, so early breakfast.  The girls went kayaking again, followed by swimming at the “volcano pool” (Had a fountain in the middle shaped like a volcano).  Then it was time for divide and conquer: I took Anastasia tandem bike riding followed by air hockey and billiards while Christine took Talula to archery and rock climbing.  Both girls also drove the electric cars around some more, and we had more free ice cream, and the girls went crab hunting at the beach which led to some organized crab races—just one of many events the resort provided throughout the day, every day.

At one point, Anastasia was showing off her “catch of the day”:  “Look, I have a Herbert crab!”

“A hermit crab?”

“That’s what I said! A Herbert crab!

That evening, we hit the Alien Abduction Club for dessert BEFORE dinner, at Fiji, a good Japanese restaurant on the beach at the resort.  Afterwards, Anastasia was eager to return to Alien Abduction to see the live music, which started at 8:30.  Talula was fast asleep by then, so Christine stayed behind while I took Anastasia clubbing.  Anastasia was imagining kids her age dancing and having a good old time, but when we got there, it was just us,  the band (an old guy on a synthesizer and a younger woman reading lyrics in a sing-whisper), and two waitresses, who were dressed in short and shiny “space-age costumes” with some funny alien-like headgear.  It’s hard to explain this club.

Wednesday, we might have slowed down a bit: Talula still woke us up early, and we had another early breakfast.  There was more tandem bike riding and rock climbing and swimming and beach time, but we were clearly slowing down a bit (except when it came to all that free ice cream). 

            

While the girls played at the beach, looking for “Herbert” crabs and building sand castles (actually, I think they were trying to build a sand resort like the one we were at), Christine and I sat at an isolated little table overlooking the little beach.  There was a little tiki bar nearby, so I went over to get us drinks while we read. 

While I waited for the bartender, one girl seated at the bar (not Australian this time but North American) looked over at the nearby Fiji Restaurant and loudly remarked to her friend, “You know there’s an island called Fiji?"

Her friend shook her head.  “Never heard of it.”

           “I think it’s right next to the ‘MAL-divs.’”  Sigh.  How do they find me?

We also walked all around the resort, checking out birds and fish by the mangroves and gearing up for our sad goodbye. Dinner was back at Fiji, followed by dessert at Alien Abduction.

We had Thursday morning at the resort still (Christine and the girls had their palms read, and we had more bike riding and game room time), but the overall attitude was that our holiday was over, all but the flights back to Lahore, where colder weather and smog awaited.  But soon enough winter will be over, and before too long, we’ll have to decide which island or islands to hit next Christmas.