A Little Work; A Little Rain....

So the four of us went to one of the oldest and poshest Swiss private banks for a meeting. In the parking garage, a man in what looks like a morning suit, signs us in and presses the  elevator button; presumably because so many of their clients can't do it for themselves... (They are big on this: they do it again upstairs to get rid of you after the meeting).

First guy we meet seemed humorless but smart, and he and T batted back and forth while I tried not to look impatient; an endeavor in which I was not entirely successful (according to Thomas). Whatever. I find these pitches like men- if they like you they like you; if they don't; do I care?  There are a lot of fish in the sea.
Anyway he didn't seem that excited by us; but 

says there is another guy who wants to meet us. We are surprised; and the humorless guy admits, so is he. When the next guy comes in, he is warm and says a client of his has strongly suggested he look into our fund (this client is actually one of Thomas' best friends lol..Peter V!!). Then he pulls out this old interview from an obscure hedge fund publication that Thomas and I had done in perhaps the teensiest bit of an irreverent way. He says he loves it: So refreshing! So honest! 

He says he has clients that would be perfect for us; then gives us a very jaunty and very Un Swiss wave, and leaves us alone in the conference room. We are happy, and best of all we are free for the afternoon! In our giddiness, three out of four of us steal pens: very high quality pens that have been put on the conference table for our use during the meeting. I grabbed mine during the dark moments of the first meeting; with the logic that since this pitch was going nowhere, I at least wanted a free pen..(oh don't judge! they are exquisite!)
Realistically however, we can't all take a pen; I mean one can go missing, but four? (Thomas had come back from the bathroom and started to reach for one too: so make that four out of four).
Can you imagine the receptionist coming in after we had had been escorted to the elevator, and seeing that we had stolen 90% of the pens? what's next? the television? the chairs?
 Who knows what we are capable of.

Don't worry.....!!! We put the pens back. Good grief; I can hear you people gasping from here. 

After our celebratory lunch, I did the only thing a person can do on a rainy Geneva work day:
cancel jog; crawl into bed; dream of stolen pens that might have been.

Geneva

There are few things things that make me happier than this sight...pillows; paper and coffee in my future.

Greetings from the Hotel Beau Rivage where I am happily ensconced with many gulf Arabs fleeing the heat.

Portuguese Brigham visit was as joyful as ever; the girls know where their rooms are and where the cake is. Thomas found a trail of crumbs and followed it through the house to the pool when he wanted to find them (quite literally). ACB of course added his own brand of joie de vivre with a sporty twist on all proceedings..exactly like when he was a kid. He didn't just swim with them; he threw balls in the air as he jumped in, with the idea they would jump and catch mid air. He lead the charge for Thomas and me and him to take a long, "slow" jog, which I found long but not that slow; and funniest of all, he got this idea that we all should attempt the fitness test given to professional linebackers when they return for training in the summer. Wide receivers have a higher bar to reach, but the fat ones still must be able to run 300 yards in under 70 seconds three times, with a two minute break in between. I heard him making the sell to the children: 

"Then you can say you are as fit as a professional athlete!!!!!!" 

silence....you could hear them trying to absorb this; trying to get a toe hold on the bragging appeal of this one, which seemed elusive to me as well.

"oh come on!!!" You could hear him thinking : how can anyone NOT want to do this?

The girls said ok, but didn't change out of their high tops

F followed him out the door with detailed questions on rules and procedures, and Thomas took on the job of Ellie management with the ominous warning that he was not sure he could do it, which is code for don't get your hopes up.

Long story short everyone did it BUT me, because (also true to character) on the last one it was clear I would not make it, and why bother if you have already failed the test? The team found this depressing and I fear I will have to suck it up and try again before the summer is out. 

Now in Geneva for meetings, then drive to lech in a few days for Schneider palooza. F goes on Sunday to a sleep away Austrian ski camp (?!) which should be interesting. He has never done anything like this before; but he wanted to do it, so we said why not? 

There are, after all, only a few months left before the Almhof cup....:)

Brigham Photos....

Kate with

Lydia's famous cake

I promise to write all the details on the Brigham's triumphant visit very soon; but we are driving this morning to Lisbon for the flight to Geneva...For now a few photos. As you can see, they spent a lot of time upside down or eating cake. xx

F playing air ball

Acb

Hanna and me after early morning swim

I love Latin languages; this is the bin for "whatever" garbage

Early morning fog

Important announcement !

ACB and the girls (formerly known as the UMs..) are making a last minute visit to the shores of Portugal..arriving Thursday.
Many pictures of clams and belly flops to follow xx

More Africa photos ..

Me with a couple of hot Swiss bankers (lol)

F at the African restaurant

Free roaming zebras at Royal Livingstone hotel

Dripping children

A few photos from Victoria Falls...
I have only a couple more days on the malaria pills; and the end can't come soon enough. The medicine gives you strange dreams and a hefty dose of existential dread...totally unsuitable for summer in Portugal. (Crying, sunburned English children can make one think the end is nigh even under normal circumstances...) Part of it is of course coming back from Africa. We made a movie while in the bush for a friend's birthday, and it was a riff on this way people have of talking about Africa: like you can't possibly understand anything if you haven't been there...that it changes you, that you are somehow only comfortable there after seeing it only once..blah blah..ha ha. We thought this was very funny. And yet now here I am moping around the golf course wishing there were crocodiles around the corner. Or at least something that could bite me.
The morning after the world cup I felt a little sick when I woke up; but I offered to make Thomas a coffee, because as I said: No German should make his own coffee the day after winning the world cup!" But once sniff of the brew sent me racing to the bathroom. So I stayed home, and spent the day shivering and rushing to the loo. Thomas kept calling from the golf course in Zimbabwe (I love the way that sounds) and he sounded so worried. He kept waking me up to ask me how I was; presumably because everything seems so much scarier there-a little mosquito or a little snail in the water could kill you. But that tension is also a good thing: it keeps the mind from spinning.
Luckily, Germans are very good at crises involving the mind. Nothing more familiar then existential dread  (i believe they have a course on it in the second grade; right before nap time). This morning Thomas  flew into action -and dragged me from my warm bed to the beach and into frigid ocean waters before breakfast, (before coffee!) Then he gave me cake. It is like a mental tourniquet...stops the bleeding. When he determined I was no longer in immediate danger, he slapped a heart rate monitor on me and told me to run. I am begging to stop the pills early-there was very little risk of malaria in the first place, (winter has few bugs), and I don't see a bite on me..but Ordnung muss sein; so I will gut it out. 
In the meantime, any light that any of you could shed on the meaning of life would be greatly appreciated.
I'll be waiting by the computer eating cake.

Roll with the Death Roll

Hands down most fun safari buddy: CMB

Kids' Jeep with lion (photo cred: ACB)

Bar set up at picnic

Elephant outside the main room

Hanna in Victoria Falls hotel

Jeep selfie

Jeki Airstrip Running Club

Hello at last! Back from the the bush where we were in a small camp on the Zambezi river. Unlike last year, at this camp, one sleeps in large elevated tents.  To be sure, they are luxurious, with sisal carpets on the floor, and beds that are changed every day; but it is still a tent, and the only thing between you and the lions is mosquito netting. 
The rhythm to the day in the bush is early morning drive or fishing, then lunch, then more drives or fishing. Best time of day is the evening drive, where one tools around for an hour, then stops at a scenic spot for a "sundowner"- a cocktail made from a portable bar at the back of the jeep. After, when it is dark, one drives merrily home checking out the wildlife along the way (great time to see leopards-at night).

The head of the camp is out of central casting, as my mother would say-a South African in his 60s who arrived for the first time in Zambia by parachute; with a resume that includes: being a body guard for the oil minister of Saudi Arabia, a solider in the Zimbabwean army, a ski guide, and a crocodile hunter. Says the biggest regret of his life is letting his membership in the Cresta Club lapse (actual name: the St. Moritz Tobogganing Club- look it up).
On our first afternoon there he took us for a drive, and two minutes out of camp we run across a pride of twelve lions. I had never been with a guide who drove so close to the animals; nor in fact had Thomas. But he inspires a lot of confidence, especially with elephants. One might think lions were the undisputed kings of the bush, but elephants chase them away like they are birds on a windowsill. The children saw a group of lions merely eyeing a baby elephant, and its mothers and aunties scattered the lions away at will. I learned so much about them from our crocodile hunter-how they are known to mourn their dead, how they care for each other, how they remember friends and foes. One of the guides witnessed a scene where a bunch of elephants were bathing in a mud pool..exactly like women at a spa- when a young male came over, hoping to get a spot in the bath. To no avail: he couldn't move anyone. So he went back to an Aunt and she stopped what she was doing; walked him over, engaged in some sort of conversation with another elder that involved wrapping her trunk around the other elephant's (ex boyfriend perhaps?)  and then sure enough her little nephew got a spot.
A few of them came into the camp daily, much to our delight, but we were told to be very careful-not to spook them because they can kill you if they want to. One morning, I walked out of the office behind the crocodile hunter, and Margaret followed behind me. Something startled the elephant who was hanging by the kitchen, and he made an aggressive move in our direction. I squealed and ran back to the office, while CH (croc hunter) simply held out his hand and yelled STOP.  And it did. It was unreal...exactly like he could speak the elephant's language.
We fell asleep to the sounds of hippos and on some nights, to lions- a sound I came to adore. There is nothing like feeling safe from lions.

One highlight were the picnics by the river. These only happened twice in the week, as they are a lot of work for the staff: tables, chairs, barbecue, and bar all have to be transported to the picnic spot, while the guests come by boat. It makes you pine for colonialism: gin and crocodiles and convivial race relations (kidding); perhaps a little cricket. It felt like they came this close to hauling a piano out there for us to sing show tunes.

I interviewed CH at every opportunity: he is a very, very shy person, who laughs at most of the sparkling witticisms that come out of my mouth (my favorite type of human). I asked him about death by lion: not advisable-they don't bother to kill you before they eat you; as well as the procedure for fending off a crocodile attack. As loyal blog readers know, the crocodile prefers to eat its prey whole; if the prey (say, me) is too large, it will drag it into the water until it stops fighting. It might tear a bite off then, or might  let you marinate for a few days before eating you. (Frankly I find this rude. and gross; hence my loathing for them, and my staunch admiration for someone who killed them for luggage.)
Anyway he says if one is faced with a croc on one's arm, the best bet is to reach even further down the throat and open the Palatal valve. This valve has to close if he is to drag you into the water; if it is open, it won't drag you in. If he does drag you in, it is suggested to "roll with the death roll" (ebw trademark!) thereby not allowing him to tear off the limb as he turns you this way and that. Another helpful hint was to gauge out the crocs nostrils; like the palatal valve, they must be closed before he brings you for a swim. But, he warned, they won't open with your hands, You need a knife.
Point is, CH and I had lots of fun conversations about these matters on the banks of the Zambezi river gin in hand. (Africa is great that way: no shame in a gin and tonic anytime of day: wouldn't want to get malaria.)

Oh I forgot to mention the most important part: the running! The landing strip is one km long, and the staff will take you out there by jeep at 7 am for a little morning jog if you desire. A group of us went every other morning with the young guide. He would do a quick tour of the strip by jeep to see if the "coast was clear," (LOL), then park half way down and we would jog for 30-40 minutes up and down, with Margaret as our leader.

At first I thought I would be on the look out for lions (they love to chase a running thing) but the slog up and down a dusty airstrip is so tedious, one thinks of nothing but a merciful end. ACB noted that he looked exactly like a wounded animal by the end, and it was a wonder no animal picked him off. Only once we saw elephants cross the runway, but we were safely on the other end.

I decided we needed to make a movie out of it, so I did. (Now playing on youtube! look up "Jeki"). I cannot tell you how amusing this was to make. Everyone got in line behind my absurd vision, and a few of the Swiss bankers even lobbied for bigger parts. We tried to have a premier in the concrete bunker that houses the television, but it didn't work as planned, so youtube it is.  Please excuse the spelling! I will try to fix it. Also to get the film's true message, true depth, you must watch the entire thing, even past the credits. The critics (aka the staff) found it a cross between chariots of fire and a Soviet era sports propaganda video.

We have established the Jeki Airstrip Running Club-an elite group bonded by blood, fear and dust. They are getting uniforms (no joke) for us, and in case any of you are thinking of buying a t shirt..forget it. One must do one of three things for membership: run one lap on the Jeki airstrip (2k); kill a crocodile (bare hands, knife or gun..we are not picky), or be born on the actual landing strip.
Our president is of course CH, the only one of us to have done two out of three.

Leaving the bush is immeasurably depressing: We stayed in a wonderful hotel in Livingstone five minutes walk to the magnificent Victoria falls, with zebra on the lawn by the pool.. but still it was a sad shock to be around so much civilization.

Home via Dubai, where we stayed at the crazy place again (see below photo of Frederick's bed there) where they met us at the door at 7 am; and not only allowed us to check in at that hour, but upgraded us to a 2000 square foot "room" with two bedrooms, two floors and two living rooms; presumably for a sultan of some sort to greet friends. It was comical. Turn down service involved a knock at the palatial door and a group of 5-6 people armed with vacum cleaners, canapes, and fresh squeezed orange juice. 

Now back in the pink bedroom in Portugal....no lions, no gin. :(
xx

Crocodile Hunter extraordinaire

in the tent

Frederick's bed with best traveled teddy bear ever.

trying a little bush yoga at sundown

sundowner with birds over jeep

Craziest Ass Place...

Running for our lives from the water to the shade

I can't really write at the moment...we are about to meet the Brighams and crew at the airport to fly to the bush. (present location: lusaka)
Dubai is beyond weird. We stayed at an especially bizarre place with security beyond measure; our own butler; a concierge on each floor; a helicopter pad on the roof; an underwater restaurant; and mirrors above the bed.
The heat is almost a living thing-I would venture to say it is so extreme (humid !!) that it becomes interesting and strangely diverting. That said, they pull over (in the hotel compound) to ask if instead of walking 5 inches, you would prefer to take the golf cart. Thomas always said no. There are more stories of course, but I am being called into the wild. If I can write from the camp, I will. xxx

F crawled into our bed with coffee..Wanted to know why a mirror was there

underwater restaurant

on the stairs of our two floor suite.

view from room at Burg al arab hotel