Author: WebJan

      

Excerpt from Chapter 4 (Entire chapter is 21 pages)

“It was April 25, 1983 and I was having lunch at the race track. But it wasn’t just any race track, it was the King Abdul Aziz race track in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia and I was the guest of a Sheik and six of his high-ranking friends at the Riyadh Equestrian Club. As I sat there I was reminded of the song from the Broadway show Sweet Charity, “If they could see me now, that little gang of mine… they’d never believe it.“

       You’re quite a reverse harem, I told them. They laughed and asked that a picture be taken.

(I was there researching a book on manpower, but I still was able to sit with royalty, attend an all-night engagement party and barter in a souk.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

         Excerpt from Chapter 5 (Entire chapter is 30 pages)

 

  A small pride of lions, together with their recent Zebra kill, consumed our attention for quite some time, but when we prepared to leave, we found we were stuck. The van was hung up on a rock and the lions were only a few feet away. Now what? At this point we learned something of the laws of the Mara.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

Excerpt from Chapter 6 (Entire chapter is 27 pages)

Once everyone was on board, the elephants started out into the morning mist. Elephants walk with surprising evenness. We entered a swampy area where, at times, the elephants sank into the ooze up to their knees, but I didn’t feel a thing. The big, flat pads of their feet cushion the ride, but I did occasionally hear a “slurp” suction noise as the elephant’s foot came out of the muck. We saw ten or twelve rhinos as we made our way through the grass. The grass is incredible – in some places extending up over our heads. But it didn’t seem to deter the elephants at all, as they walked right through it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

Excerpt from Chapter 7 (Entire chapter is 27 pages)

I moved my hand down and began to stroke his neck, then caressed his throat. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as I continued to stroke his throat and cheek for a good five minutes. He never moved. When I stopped, he would open his eyes and look at me – much like our Golden Retriever does when she wants the petting to continue. There was no doubt that the old boy was enjoying his caresses – and so was I! What a thrill to stroke a Giant Galapagos Tortoise!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    Excerpt from Chapter 8 (Entire chapter is 27 pages)     

 

   The front door opened and a bewildered rancher walked slowly toward the bus sitting in the middle of his front lawn.

      “Ya got the Billy on? Mark called cheerfully

            The rancher stared at us in bewilderment

      “Reckon we made the wrong turn, Mark suggested.

      “I reckon you did,” the rancher replied, scratching his hair beneath his battered  Aussie Akubro hat .

      “Guess we should have gone the other way at the intersection”.
“I guess you should have” came the reply.

        “He’ll head to the pub for sure tonight, Mark said,” telling everyone about this big white bus that drove into his yard with a load of lost Yanks, and the story will probably get better with every telling.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt from Chapter 9 (Entire chapter is 30 pages)

Stay 15 feet away? Not possible when you’re sharing a beach with 100,000 penguins

            Gradually I worked my way to the far side of the colony, propped myself up against a wall of tussock grass and sat down quietly to observe. Several penguins came over to give me a close inspection and a few pecked at my rubber boots. They had obviously not read the Antarctic Treaty which clearly states humans and penguins are to stay fifteen feet apart. There are some sights and sounds one never forgets. The experience at Salisbury Plain will certainly be among them. That night we had an Elvis Presley “shake, rattle and roll” experience. We had 35-foot seas, the wind was steady at 55 knots and the storm was a force 10 on the Beaufort Scale. Antarctica never lets you forget who is in charge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   Excerpt from Chapter 10 (Entire chapter is 30 pages)   

 

     One of the bears ambled to the side of the Tundra Buggy, I decided to go out to the rear of the buggy and meet him on the back open-air platform “OK bear,” I told him. “Are you ready for your close-up?” I established eye contact with him. Slowly, he sauntered over and then began to rise up on his hind legs. He was easily 12 feet tall. Leaning over the edge of the platform, looking directly at his face, I shot frame after frame of photos. He rose up closer. He was so close I could no longer focus. And then it happened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

Excerpt from Chapter 11 (Entire chapter is 32 pages)

Dinner tonight would not be at another state-owned restaurant, but at a paladar, a privately-owned restaurant. But this outing gave rise to an astonishing discovery. Our driver could not drive there or eat there as he was a state employee. This meant our guide had to procure a fleet of private vehicles for our group’s transportation. At 7 p.m. a spectacular parade of vintage American cars pulled up in the middle of a thunderstorm. Everyone dashed for a car, any car. Alfred and I jumped into a blue 1949 Plymouth for which the windshield wipers were nonexistent. No problem, the driver had a rag with which he wiped off the rain-covered- window as we drove to our destination! We came back to the hotel in a 1955 Chevy. Alfred loved the front seat leg room!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt from Chapter 12 (Entire chapter is 29 pages)

 

We didn’t always travel during our fifty-six years of marriage and we didn’t eat all our meals in restaurants. We both had professional careers and we usually ate at home, as I’m a very good cook. I’m especially good at Viennese pastries!

I’m also a good “Dog Mother” to the many Golden Retrievers we have had over the years. I’m also a gardener, bird-feeder-filler and free-lance writer. Although I’d had Goldens since childhood, our careers precluded our having a dog, until the day neighbors invited us over to see their new 8-week-old puppy. “I want a puppy” I said to Alfred and I said it over and over for three days until he relented. And with the addition of Diora, I began forty years of dedication to causes devoted to the health and well-being of Golden Retrievers.