US, US, baby

One (me) can go through almost a whole year of international travel and not meet the stereo-typical American. But just when you think you’ve made it off Yank-free, there he is…sitting right beside you on the tour company bus.

Before I even met him, I had an inkling of what I might be in store for. The night before he boarded the bus the guide and I had played “guess their nationality” for the three new clients joining the tour. As soon as I saw the name “Larry” I claimed him for my country. Seriously…have you met any Larrys from China? I think not. But Larry from the US? Yep. (but no, the other two clients weren’t his brother Darryl and his other brother Darryl)

Sure enough, the next day, two super-sized middle-aged Americans — Larry and his wife — huffed and puffed their way onto the bus. Barely seated, they began excitedly talking about their hunting safari they’d been on the last few days. When our guide asked where they were from, Larry happily answered “California” and then with a newly placed disgusted look quickly began adding, “but they might as well call it Mexi-fornia the way all the…”

“What part of California?” I cut in, trying to avoid 1) my getting into an angry argument with him and 2) his embarrassment when he realizes that two seats behind him is an American named Ricardo.

Later someone on the tour said they made them think of the people in Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine.

Yes…still alive.

I’m on the tour of Southern Africa and just now have had Internet access. I meant to leave a see-ya-later post, but the other American at my guesthouse ate up all the Internet for the month the day before I left (granted, I probably used a big chunk o’ that access, too…).

I’ve got lots to say and mucho pictures and video to post, but for now, you’ll just have to know that I’m having a fabulous time. And will post once I get back to Jo’Burg in a few days.

Toodles.

Here’s a pic of two Americans. Me (duh), and a kid from the care house named American. Yep. That’s his real name. Not just called that because of where he’s from or because he’s cheap on dates (like a guy in college I knew called Dutch). Yep. An American and American.

Hopping onto a camel and spending a night sleeping in the desert wasn’t one of my plans when I started this trip. If you knew me then, you’d know I actually had very little planned other than, you know, hopping on a plane to China and figuring I’d see the Great Wall there and then try to keep up with my other pre-purchased flights.

In my last week in China, though, I came across the first American on the trip. We hung out at Jiuzhaigou together that day and swapped a few travel stories. When she heard I was traveling to India at some point, she said I should go on a camel safari in Rajasthan.

I took note in the handy-dandy moleskin notebook I’ve been carrying around with me and almost nine months later I did just that. And LOVED it.

Holy cow…has it already been nine months? Yikes.