In Patagonia, we’d arranged a day trip to Perito Moreno. Saying “Perito Merino” made us admire its singsong of syllables. Seeing Perito Moreno made us shiver at the power of its cool beauty.
Wednesday night, April 15
I’m still in a bit of a shock over what happened today. Maybe as I age (remember, I’m only a year old) and get used to life in the wilderness (after all, I was born in Germany), I’ll roll with it more easily.
“Where is that?”
“Why are you going there?”
“Why would you go to the Middle East now?”
This is what Spice and I were asked when we told people we were going to Oman. Our short answer was “For the smell of it.”
When we first saw Joshua Tree National Park and its eponymous Joshua trees, the autumnal landscape had the burnished glow of copper. We, like many people, were entranced by these wildly individualistic trees, their Seussian arms uplifted as if saying, “pay attention to me; I have a story for you.” After finding out more about them, the message they conveyed to us was, “come see us blooming in springtime.”
People say dogs are man’s best friends.
Unintentionally, Magellan and I made some new best friends in Bhutan.
Everyone we know who’s been to Bhutan talks about the huge number of stray dogs, especially in Thimphu, the country’s capital.
“They’re not really a bother during the day,” our friend Marsha told us, “but they bark all night long. If you can, stay in a hotel that’s not in the centre of town.”
Just how many stray dogs are barking in Thimphu?
All 5,000 of them. In a city with fewer than 100,000 people. And there are 10 times that many strays countrywide!
In Thimphu, they call them “solar dogs.”