Seriously. Yesterday I saw my first one, flying overhead, and I was excited- the Egyptian god of wisdom, after all! Later that evening I saw two more- still cool. Now there's a flock of them picking around the donkey's pen next to my cabin, and I'm getting suspicious. They're up to something.
Life has changed. Last winter in Alaska I considered myself lucky if the temperature was up to -10 degrees. This past wednesday, it was 43 degrees Celsius. For those of you without calculators to hand, that's 109 fahrenheit. In my professional opinion, Yeesh!
Drakenstein Lion Park is working out well so far. The owner, Paul, embraces the fact that he who would try and force a lion to do anything will end up as the head of a fascist-govt-style anti-lion militia, or as a lion's chew toy. Thus, everything here is done the lion's favorite way- bribes. And if a lion becomes uneasy in his trap cage while we're cleaning his enclosure, he's immediately released, so that they don't come to dread going in. The enclosures are large and shady, and lions never live alone unless they have personally poo-pooed the alternatives.
There are 29 lions, 1 caracal, a donkey lawn-mower, a mess of goat composters, plus one sheep who isn't sure whether he's a goat or a dog, and two chatty crows named Stoeffels and Pete. Like the macaws in Ecuador, the crows are fluent in curse words (mostly in Afrikaans), but they prefer the more demure "Bye!" and "More, Stoeffels!" (good morning, Stoeffels). If you could only teach them the appropriate times for each phrase, these guys could put the Walmart greeters out of a job. The lions come from all manner of abusive backgrounds- circuses, zoos, illegal pet situations, and especially the canned hunting industry. One lioness. Ziyanda, is one of only 300 white lions in the world. Not albino; her eyes are blue, rather than pink- it's just a different, and extremely rare, coloration. Certain assholes of the world will pay a million dollars or more to shoot one of these. So she'll be staying here.
Everyone on staff here speaks Afrikaans at home, which is most closely related to Flemish. They're good about speaking English when I'm around, though, being more than fluent. South Africa has about 11 official languages, and English is the most common one. They tell me I use english rather differently even than most americans, though, which is interesting. Most importantly, the people here get my sense of humor. That's all I ask from a place.
My biggest hurdle here has been the sun, which I completely foresaw, and thought I had prepared for. I didn't take into account the reaction my skin has had to the sunblock I brought... either allergy or the sunblock is getting too old. S'ok. I have a game plan. Since I have the weekend off, I'll be buying new sunblock and bulking up my supply of aloe, then hoping for the best. My genes weren't designed for this: Anglo-saxon-gaelic-norse. That's a complicated way of saying Pasty. Add a year in Alaska, and I could give Elmer's glue a run for its money.
Correction. That was true five days ago. Since then I've taken on more of a maraschino cherry hue. It would be quite fetching, on a lobster.
On a curious note, I don't seem to need sleep here. The winds almost always pick up at night, and for some reason it keeps me awake, although the lions roaring don't bother me. I'm used to lions from Ecuador, but I haven't gotten used to the winds yet. Don't mistake this for a complaint, though- as long as I lie still and quiet at night and tell myself stories, I find my energy levels during the day are undiminished.
My digital camera, Cesar, is still in the custody of my friend Helen in England, but I have disposable cameras with me that I am putting to use, and I promise photos once they're developed and scanned, probably in May...?
I'm glad I'm here, but I miss you guys anyway. That's a given. Take care, be good, and avoid the clap. And email me or somesuch. Oh! And watch out for ibises, I just get a shifty vibe from them!
Life has changed. Last winter in Alaska I considered myself lucky if the temperature was up to -10 degrees. This past wednesday, it was 43 degrees Celsius. For those of you without calculators to hand, that's 109 fahrenheit. In my professional opinion, Yeesh!
Drakenstein Lion Park is working out well so far. The owner, Paul, embraces the fact that he who would try and force a lion to do anything will end up as the head of a fascist-govt-style anti-lion militia, or as a lion's chew toy. Thus, everything here is done the lion's favorite way- bribes. And if a lion becomes uneasy in his trap cage while we're cleaning his enclosure, he's immediately released, so that they don't come to dread going in. The enclosures are large and shady, and lions never live alone unless they have personally poo-pooed the alternatives.
There are 29 lions, 1 caracal, a donkey lawn-mower, a mess of goat composters, plus one sheep who isn't sure whether he's a goat or a dog, and two chatty crows named Stoeffels and Pete. Like the macaws in Ecuador, the crows are fluent in curse words (mostly in Afrikaans), but they prefer the more demure "Bye!" and "More, Stoeffels!" (good morning, Stoeffels). If you could only teach them the appropriate times for each phrase, these guys could put the Walmart greeters out of a job. The lions come from all manner of abusive backgrounds- circuses, zoos, illegal pet situations, and especially the canned hunting industry. One lioness. Ziyanda, is one of only 300 white lions in the world. Not albino; her eyes are blue, rather than pink- it's just a different, and extremely rare, coloration. Certain assholes of the world will pay a million dollars or more to shoot one of these. So she'll be staying here.
Everyone on staff here speaks Afrikaans at home, which is most closely related to Flemish. They're good about speaking English when I'm around, though, being more than fluent. South Africa has about 11 official languages, and English is the most common one. They tell me I use english rather differently even than most americans, though, which is interesting. Most importantly, the people here get my sense of humor. That's all I ask from a place.
My biggest hurdle here has been the sun, which I completely foresaw, and thought I had prepared for. I didn't take into account the reaction my skin has had to the sunblock I brought... either allergy or the sunblock is getting too old. S'ok. I have a game plan. Since I have the weekend off, I'll be buying new sunblock and bulking up my supply of aloe, then hoping for the best. My genes weren't designed for this: Anglo-saxon-gaelic-norse. That's a complicated way of saying Pasty. Add a year in Alaska, and I could give Elmer's glue a run for its money.
Correction. That was true five days ago. Since then I've taken on more of a maraschino cherry hue. It would be quite fetching, on a lobster.
On a curious note, I don't seem to need sleep here. The winds almost always pick up at night, and for some reason it keeps me awake, although the lions roaring don't bother me. I'm used to lions from Ecuador, but I haven't gotten used to the winds yet. Don't mistake this for a complaint, though- as long as I lie still and quiet at night and tell myself stories, I find my energy levels during the day are undiminished.
My digital camera, Cesar, is still in the custody of my friend Helen in England, but I have disposable cameras with me that I am putting to use, and I promise photos once they're developed and scanned, probably in May...?
I'm glad I'm here, but I miss you guys anyway. That's a given. Take care, be good, and avoid the clap. And email me or somesuch. Oh! And watch out for ibises, I just get a shifty vibe from them!
I'm enjoying your adventures vicariously. Hope you sunburn gets better quickly. Did your luggage ever arrive? Looking forward to your next post.... :)
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