On Jan. 1, Y2K, I was still two continents short.
For all the traveling we do around here, I had never in my life set foot in South America or Antarctica. Oh, sure, Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia and, of course, North America had been checked off for a long time. Then, somewhat unexpectedly, I was assigned to write about the Amazon. Solomon got Antarctica.
So I’m still missing one continent. But for Antarctica, I’m willing to wait. If necessary, I can wait till it grows palm trees.
As some readers may recall, the Travel Section last year turned its spotlight on the seven natural wonders of the world, one for each of the seven continents. Before I could add continent No. 6 to my list, I spent a week in and around the Serengeti Plain, Africa’s natural wonder.
It wasn’t my first time tracking game, but the Serengeti proved a lot different from Botswana, Zimbabwe and South Africa. There, I flew from place to place in bush planes. This time, our safari group endured half-day trips in a Toyota van over extremely rough Tanzanian roads. Fortunately, we always ended up in magnificent lodges with gorgeous views, decent food and big rooms. That helped ease our aching backs.
We saw thousands of animals of many kinds, but the big cats intrigue me most of all. Something about grace combined with cunning and brute strength. Serengeti lions in their quest for fresh antelope meat walked so close to our vehicle that we could almost reach out and scratch them behind the ears (a bad idea–that photo up there is a product of special effects). The lions ignored us completely, never having developed a craving for big, stinky steel boxes with rubber tires.
Inside the van, human behavior was nearly as fascinating as the animal kind. One man looked at almost everything through his video camera viewfinder and admitted he suffered from Discovery Channel-envy. A woman from Holland demanded cheetahs so persistently (hey, they were in the brochure!) that our guide finally broke national park rules by driving off-road to the cheetahs’ favorite grove of acacia trees. The woman nodded in gratitude and then slept through the leopards, giraffes, zebras and wart hogs.
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South America for the first time brought all kinds of surprises. I love visiting new places, because they always defy expectations, usually in a good way, but not every time. En route to the Amazon, I stopped in Rio de Janeiro and encountered three days of rain. Sugar Loaf Mountain disappeared behind a cloudbank. Fog totally obscured the mountaintop statue of Christ the Redeemer. The tall and tan and young and lovely people wore ponchos.
Manaus, gateway to the Amazon, turned out to be a bustling, dirty, noisy industrial port city devoid of hanging vines, monkeys and jabbering toucans. Hundreds of tourists like me were hustled from the airport to the Hotel Tropical, a below-the-Equator version of that resort in “The Shining.” Endless corridors rang with mysterious echoes. Employees greeted us with mechanical smiles as they handed out the keys. I’m sure the Tropical has its charms, but few of us would spend more than one night before shipping out to our various Amazon resorts.
The Pousada dos Guanavenas jungle lodge had all the amenities of a three-star hotel and came with its own parrot, as well as a caged capybara–a large rodent that looks like a cross between a prairie dog and a buffalo. A tarantula had taken up residence in the resort’s satellite dish. “The dish looks like a giant spider web,” one guest noticed. “The tarantula’s probably thinking, ‘Boy, I’m good.'”
From darkest Africa to deepest Amazon, it all seemed so accessible. In Tanzania, a lot of the animals approach without fear, while the engine hums. Newcomers to the Amazon expect they’ll have to rough it and instead take pre-programmed tours in canopied boats. All the benefits of home, so long as the diesel generators keep running. Discovery Channel-envy really sets in when visitors realize their lodge won’t be a thatched hut in a primitive village and that they won’t be hacking their way through dense jungle while surrounded by colorful tropical birds.
It’s the kind of surprise that engenders disappointment–and a secret sense of relief.
But even so, I had made it to South America, at last, and maybe in the future I would have the time and resources to see the Amazon the way anthropologists, conservationists, ornithologists, botanists and native Amazonians do. Of course, the Serengeti Plain also deserves more time and energy than most travelers can give it. After sunset, safe in our lodges, the whole day of mild adventure seemed inauthentic. But maybe that’s one of the messages our natural wonders are passing along. Humanity is irrelevant to their existence and always will be. Historically, people have done more harm than good; natural wonders can get along just fine without us.
I had a comfortable if wide-ranging year: Los Angeles, the Channel Islands, Joshua Tree National Park, Seattle, Vancouver, Germany, Tanzania, Holland, Colorado, Brazil, Peru, England, France and Italy. In other words, most of the time, I roamed my usual continents–North America and Europe–plus that initial peek at South America.
Also for the first time, I was able to see a little bit of Germany outside of Berlin. In Hanover, just a few days before the opening of Expo 2000, I slogged through puddles past half-finished World’s Fair exhibits so I could attend the first of two press briefings. Reporters and camera crews jammed a large auditorium, facing a stage manned by Expo officials. The officials spoke only German. Later, I found someone who did speak English and she explained that this briefing was for the national press only. Obviously, Germany had a great many correspondents assigned to the fair and exposition beat.
Next day, United Nations-style translating gizmos were set in place, and I could understand what everyone said. A lot of the talk centered on the fact that the U.S. would not be putting up an Expo 2000 pavilion. So totally isolationist! And in that auditorium full of world press, I learned that I was the only American reporter on hand, except for a German-based journalist for Stars & Stripes.
After the briefing, we were asked to join guides according to our language preference. Mine held up a sign that said “English.” Others would be guiding in French, Italian, Japanese, etc.
Our little English-speaking group included me, the Stars & Stripes reporter, one woman from England and six Slovenians who had no other choice. We hurried through the rain to the few pavilions that were somewhere near completion, dodging delivery trucks and stepping over pipes and power cords. Less than a week to the opening, Expo 2000 looked as if it never would be finished on time. I would have to leave before I could see the end result, and officials insisted that World’s Fairs always are works in progress, even after they open.
And that’s the way it is with most travel. Those natural wonders are forever growing, deepening, widening or shrinking–processes that might take eons. No one ever gets to see a final product. I can accept that. All trips must end with the feeling that the traveler missed a major component or two. Maybe a couple of continents. Maybe a U.S. pavilion. Always something.
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Meet the staff
Robert Cross (Bob to you) continues to show up at U.S. national parks (Channel Islands, Joshua Tree and Black Canyon of the Gunnison last year) in an effort to complete an ongoing series. Only 22 more parks to go, and he will have covered all 55! Between walks through the piney woods, Cross took to the sidewalks last year and most of 1999 to write about 13 Great Cities of North America. However, he has yet to see Antarctica. His e-mail address is [email protected].