The Real Indiana Jones

Sometimes in looking for things to write about I get on interesting bunny trails. While perusing a list of books that inspire travel I ran across one called The Lost City of Z by David Grann. As I scanned the description, I found that the story was about the man who was the inspiration for Indiana Jones. I couldn't help but follow up on him.

His name was Sir Percy Fawcett and he was quite a colorful character. His resume included being a British artilleryman in Sri Lanka, a tour of duty in World War I and a top secret assignment as a spy in Morocco. He was most famous for his map making expeditions mostly into Brazil and Bolivia. His exploits earned him a prestigious medal from the Royal Geographical Society.

Fawcett developed a theory that an advanced and ancient city had existed in the Amazon. Stories of local natives and one particular story from a Portuguese fortune hunter from 1753 who gave an account of a huge stone jungle metropolis spurred him on.

The explorer became more obsessed with the possibility as time went on and twice in the early 1920s tried to find the city he dubbed Z but was driven back by the conditions of the jungle. Still the 57 year old explorer was convinced the city was there in Brazil and in 1925 set off with his twenty-one year old son and a friend to search again.

The expedition got to a point where he had turned back before and he released his guides continuing on with just his son and the friend. His last communication was what he had sent back with the guides. When two years passed without another word from him, newspapers began to report his probable death. Still stories surfaced that he was living as a native in the jungle or that he was a captive of the Indians. One account had him ruling a tribe of cannibals.

In 1928 the Royal Geographic Society sent an expedition, the first of many that have searched for the lost explorer. The author of the book, David Grann, went into the jungle searching as well and ran across a tribe that had preserved a story in their oral history that fits with Fawcett and his expedition. The tribe warned him not to go into a territory that was ruled by a fierce warring tribe. They never saw him again.

To make the comparison even closer to Indiana Jones, Sir Percy Fawcett's middle name was Harrison--as in Harrison Ford??

Not My Cup of Tea

As we explored the shopping area of Buenos Aires, we noticed some unusual items in many of the store windows. I’m not an expert on drug paraphernalia but these items looked suspicious. They were round cups made of wood (actually a gourd) and a variety of other materials and each had a silver/metal straw in them that ended in a little silver strainer-type contraption on the end that was inserted into the cup. Did you smoke something in it, I wondered?

Window after shop window, we passed the same thing with unique designs, materials, and decorations. This was getting to be too much, I decided. At an outdoor craft market there was a table full of these cups with their unusual straws and a fellow whose English was pretty good so I gathered the courage to ask.

“It is mate--our national drink!” He was amazed that I didn’t know that. From a chair behind him, he picked up his own cup and showed me. “It is our tea. See?”

I peered into the cup at a concoction of liquid mixed with some sort of leaves. There was more leaf material than liquid it seemed. Then the light bulb went on in my head. Of course, they put their tea leaves in the hot water in their cup and the drink is strained through the straw. How clever. It reminded me of the Japanese teapot my daughter-in-law had given me where the strainer was in the spout.

I lifted the cup close enough to my nose to take a whiff. It was not the aroma I expected. While the gentleman insisted it wasn’t tobacco, I was sure it had to be at least a first cousin to the plant. It reminded me of my grandfather’s old cigars when they would get wet in an ashtray he kept outside.

The opportunity arose to purchase some tea and one of the cups but I passed. I can’t imagine it tasting any better than it smelled and tobacco juice isn’t my cup of tea.

A Different View

[Apologies to those of you who read regularly. We were without internet for two weeks traveling through Argentina and the Antarctic. Yes, you will be hearing about it. Here's the first...]

Rain dripped off the end of my nose as I watched my footing on the catwalk at Iguazu Falls in Argentina. We were treading carefully on the Superior Walk, the higher level of trails for viewing the falls. Even through the mist and the rain, the falls were a spectacular wonder of nature (will post pictures and review on my website soon)—tons of water spilling down more than 200 different waterfalls. While they aren’t as tall as Niagra, they stretch over a wider area.

Just like Niagra, however, the Iguazu Falls are viewed from two sides—the Argentinean and the Brazilian. Of course there ensues a debate over which side is better. Some argue that the Falls are best viewed from Argentina, others say Brazil. As our guide put it, “It’s a different view.” We heard that phrase a lot.

“Take the lower circuit. It’s not necessarily better. It’s just a different view.”

“Be sure to go out to San Martin Island. It’s a different view.”

“For a different view, go down to the river.”

Every time we rounded a corner and saw the Falls from a new angle, we laughed and said, “It’s a different view.”

And our guide was right. Everyone had their own opinion about which was the best view.
But isn’t that how the world is? Everyone getting “a different view?”