Important warning for swimmers worldwide…

Posted by worldwide-admin on July 11, 2026 with 0 Comment

From Travel + Leisure online magazine, found here.

“Health Officials Are Warning Travelers About Flesh-eating Bacteria in Warm Coastal Waters This Summer

Experts say rising water temperatures are contributing to higher Vibrio risks and urge swimmers to protect cuts and wounds before entering the water. By Michael CappettaUpdated on July 10, 2026

A dip in a river, lake, or stream can be a relaxing way to stay cool, but health officials are now warning there could be a hidden danger lurking beneath certain waterways.

Officials in the United States and across Europe are sounding the alarm and urging extra precautions due to a rise in Vibrio infections over the last several years. As detailed in a recent article published in a scientific journal of the Federation of European Microbiological Societies, the increase in Vibrio vulnificus, a potentially flesh-killing bacterium, is due in part to warming coastal water temperatures.

The article noted that V. vulnificus is “one of the most lethal marine pathogens,” which can be fatal or cause soft tissue infections and other issues. It thrives in warm, salty-to-brackish waters and can enter through even small cuts or raw shellfish consumption.

“In the era of accelerating climate change and marine warming, infection risk is primarily a function of exposure opportunity rather than strain evolution,” the article stated. “Proactive integration of environmental monitoring, genomic surveillance, and rapid public health communication will therefore be critical to mitigating the burden of V. vulnificus and other climate-sensitive marine pathogens in temperate coastal regions.”

Last summer, the European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control issued an advisory explaining the summer season poses an “increased risk” for Vibrio, which naturally lives in brackish coastal waters, “especially when temperatures are high and salinity is lower.”

Within the United States, Vibrio also remains a concern. For its part, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) warned that the bacteria are found in higher numbers in May through October, estimating there are about 80,000 cases of vibriosis in the U.S. each year.

“Some Vibrio species, such as Vibrio vulnificus, can cause severe and life-threatening infections,” the CDC noted. “Some Vibrio infections lead to necrotizing fasciitis, a severe infection in which the flesh around an open wound dies… Many people with Vibrio vulnificus infection can get seriously ill and need intensive care or limb amputation. About one in five people with this infection die, sometimes within a day or two of becoming ill.”

The agency said most people who become infected do so by eating raw or undercooked shellfish, particularly oysters, while some get infected through an open wound that comes into contact with coastal waters.

To help prevent infection, the CDC recommends using waterproof bandages over open wounds before going into coastal waters, and immediately washing wounds and cuts with soap and clean running water if they come into contact with coastal waters. The agency also recommends that those at higher risk of infection wear water shoes or clothing in coastal waters to prevent cuts and scrapes. “

It is imperative for us, as world travelers, to take such warnings seriously and proceed with caution. Over the years, we have heard countless stories of travelers who became ill after entering unfamiliar bodies of water, often unaware of the potential risks. Whether it is bacteria, parasites, or unseen contaminants, what appears to be a refreshing swim can quickly turn into a regrettable experience. We have learned to pause, assess, and sometimes refrain, even when the setting looks inviting. Staying healthy on the road is essential, and a moment of awareness can prevent days or even weeks of illness.

Be well.

Photo fromten years ago today, July 11, 2016:

Hỏa Lò Prison, aka Mason Centrale (meaning “central house” in French), was nicknamed the “Hanoi Hilton” during the Vietnam War. Hỏa Lò Prison was a prison used by the French colonists in Vietnam for political prisoners, and later by North Vietnam for U.S. Prisoners of War during the Vietnam War. During this later period, it was sarcastically known to American POWs as the Hanoi Hilton. The prison was demolished in part during the 1990s, though the gatehouse remains as a museum.” For more photos, please click here.

Amazing video of Norman and Nina’s family…Life in the bush…

Posted by worldwide-admin on July 10, 2026 with 0 Comment

PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR THE VIDEO.

Today’s video is truly the highlight of our post, not only for what you see on the screen, but for everything it represents to us after all these years.

We love the nyala family, offspring of Nina and Norman.

It was back in 2018 when we saw Norman for the very first time.

At that time, our friends from the US, Lois and Tom, were visiting us for three weeks. As we so often do when we have visitors, we spent many hours driving through Marloth Park in search of wildlife, along with many outings into Kruger National Park. Each outing carried that familiar sense of hope and curiosity, never knowing what might appear around the next bend in the road.

We had heard from other residents that there was a single nyala living in the park. It was an unnamed male, wandering alone without a mate. Some people had seen him, while others had not, and there was always a sense that perhaps he was more rumor than reality.

We were determined to find him.

On one particular day, while driving along a quiet dirt road in Marloth Park, with Lois and Tom, we spotted movement ahead. There he was, casually meandering off the road and into the bush. We did not get a perfect view. In fact, all we really saw was his backside as he disappeared into the vegetation.

But that moment meant everything to us.

He was real.

Over the following months and even years, that lone nyala began to visit us more and more frequently. It was during that time that we gave him a name. Norman. Somehow, giving him a name made him feel more like part of our lives. He was no longer just another animal passing through. He became someone we looked forward to seeing.

As time passed, we came to love and admire this beautiful and gentle antelope. What amazed us even more was how, after repeated visits and hearing us call out to him, he began to respond to his name. Much like a dog or a cat might, Norman would pause and look in our direction when we called. It felt like a connection, even though we knew he remained completely wild.

Long after Lois and Tom had returned home, we learned that a female nyala had been introduced into Marloth Park. We later discovered that someone had named her Nina. It was not our choice, but the name stuck, just as Norman’s name had with us.

Interestingly, over the years, we learned that these animals often have multiple names. Residents from different parts of the world call them by names familiar to them. One person’s Norman may be another’s Pedro, or John, or even Hans or Pierre. Yet somehow, these remarkable animals seem to recognize and respond to all of them. It speaks volumes about their intelligence and adaptability.

In time, Nina and Norman found one another, and nature took its course.

Over the years, we believe they have produced around thirteen nyalas, some of them their direct offspring and others their grandchildren. As is typical, the young males eventually move on to find their own territory and, hopefully, their own mates. The females remain, forming the core of the family group of eight, and we now visit us regularly, along with a few young males who have not yet left.

Sadly, while we were away, Norman was injured, likely during a confrontation with another animal. His jaw was broken, leaving him unable to eat. The veterinarians, along with Deidre of Wild and Free Rescue, made the difficult decision that euthanasia was the only humane option.

Louise shared the news with me about a month before we arrived. I was heartbroken. The connection I felt with Norman, an animal I had never touched, yet had come to know so well, was suddenly gone.

I knew it would affect us when we returned to the bush.

But spending time with his family has brought us comfort. Each time they wander into our garden, we greet them with genuine excitement. I find myself hurrying into the kitchen, cutting up vegetables we know they enjoy, eager to offer them a small treat.

These visits mean more to us now than ever before.

Today’s video captures one of those moments. Watching them, we are reminded of Norman, of how it all began, and of the lasting legacy he left behind. We could not be more delighted each time they stop by, and we treasure every single visit.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 10, 2016:

The entrance to the Temple of Literature in Hanoi, Viet Nam. For more photos, please click here.

We’re back!!!…WiFi issues at our house in the bush…Trying to work on our new site with our web guy…

Posted by worldwide-admin on July 9, 2026 with 0 Comment

This is my boy, Chewy, a handsome bushbuck who visits several times a day.

Right now, I am deep in the process of working with our web developer on a complete redesign of our website. It is not a quick or simple task. In fact, it has become a laborious, often painstaking process that demands my attention many times throughout the day. Every adjustment, every decision, and every correction requires back-and-forth communication, and that alone can be time-consuming under the best of circumstances.

Chewy is eating vegetable scraps off the venanda railing.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, this project is not something we can afford to delay any longer. We continue to receive notifications from WordPress indicating that our current design is obsolete and no longer supported with security updates. Considering that our site is now over 14 years old, this is not entirely surprising, but it is certainly concerning. The thought of what could happen if we ignore these warnings is unsettling. A total crash of the site is a real possibility, and that would be nothing short of a nightmare.

With over 5,000 posts, thousands of photos, and years of memories and information carefully documented, the idea of losing it all is overwhelming. This site has represented a significant part of our lives for the past decade and more. We have always tried to avoid unnecessary stress in our travels and daily routines, and a website crash would undoubtedly be considered extreme stress.

Mac, our friendly impala, has been visiting us often once he realized we were here.

I had hoped to begin this process months ago, but as is often the case in our lifestyle, circumstances got in the way. Between the 72 nights we spent on cruise ships, where WiFi was unreliable at best, and the busy months that followed, it simply wasn’t feasible. I made a promise to myself that once we were settled in South Africa, we would finally tackle this project head-on.

Well, here we are, settled in what should be a perfect place to get this done, and yet we are facing a whole new set of challenges. The WiFi at this house has been incredibly inconsistent, making it difficult to maintain the steady communication required for this kind of work. There are long stretches when we are completely unable to respond to our web developer, and those interruptions slow everything down.

This zebra stood in this spot for over an hour, perhaps sleeping. Zebras do sleep lying on their side, but only in the safety of other zebras.

To add to the frustration, the cooler weather has changed our daily routine. We are not spending as much time out on the veranda at night as we usually would, which means we are indoors more often and relying on an unreliable internet connection. Evenings have become particularly frustrating. The signal, which may work intermittently during the day, often disappears entirely at night.

This has affected more than just our work. We don’t have a television on the main floor of this house. The only TV is located upstairs, accessible by a steep flight of stairs that has become increasingly difficult for me to manage, especially at night. The lighting is poor, and with my unsteady gait, it is simply not a safe option. Even if it were, the smart TV depends on WiFi for streaming, which makes it unusable most evenings anyway.

Late yesterday, two technicians arrived to install a new dish, which gave us a bit of hope. They worked for several hours, but as darkness fell, they packed up and left without completing the job. Last night, we found ourselves sitting in the bedroom with nothing to watch, passing the time with offline games on our phones. It felt oddly isolating in a world where we have grown accustomed to staying connected.

Of course, we are out to dinner three evenings a week, which provides a welcome change of scenery. But on the remaining nights, we genuinely enjoy settling in with a good movie or series. It is a simple pleasure, but one we value, and right now, it is not available to us.

Three female kudus munching on lucerne. It arrived on Saturday morning, but lasted longer than the usual 24 hours, when many holidaymakers in the bush are feeding the wildlife.

During daylight hours, we manage to get some work done when the signal cooperates, and we take advantage of those moments as best we can. Still, the stop-and-start nature of it all makes progress slower than we would like.

I do not like to complain, and I try to keep things in perspective. We are fortunate in many ways, and we never lose sight of that. But at the same time, this situation is frustrating and, frankly, unacceptable based on what we expect. For now, all we can do is hope that the issues are resolved soon so we can move forward, complete this critical project, and return to a more comfortable and functional routine.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 9, 2016:

It was crowded at the entrance to the Vietnam Museum, not only with our small riverboat group, but also with many other tour groups. For interior museum photos, please click here.

Giraffe Day!!!…Photos of these fantastic animals…

Posted by worldwide-admin on July 6, 2026 with 4 Comments

We were sitting at the table on the veranda for this shot at the end of the plunge pool.

Yesterday was a very special day for us here in Marloth Park. It began like so many others, with the quiet anticipation that comes from simply sitting outside and waiting to see who might wander through. There is always a sense that something could happen, but there are no guarantees. That is part of what makes these moments feel so genuine. You cannot summon wildlife. You can only be present and hope that, for a short time, your worlds overlap.

As the morning unfolded, a family of three giraffes made their way slowly into our garden. A mother, a father, and a youngster, moving with that unmistakable grace that always seems slightly unreal. Their long legs carried them carefully across the uneven ground, their heads rising above the trees as if they were part of the landscape itself. They began to graze almost immediately, pulling leaves from the tops of branches with a calm and deliberate rhythm that spoke of patience rather than urgency.

What struck us most was how long they stayed. Hours passed, yet they remained, drifting in and out of the garden as though it were simply another natural stop along their path. The youngster stayed close, occasionally stepping forward with a bit more curiosity, then retreating back toward the safety of the adults. There was a lesson in that behavior, a reminder that young animals learn not through instruction but through observation and proximity.

Giraffes in the wild carry a personality that is often misunderstood. From a distance, they can appear almost indifferent, as though they are detached from everything around them. In reality, their calm demeanor hides a deep awareness of their surroundings. Every movement is measured. Every pause has purpose. They are not rushed creatures, and there is a certain confidence in the way they exist within their environment.

The mother displayed a steady vigilance throughout the day. While she fed, her eyes seemed to scan constantly, taking in subtle changes that we would never notice. There was no visible tension, but there was no carelessness either. It was a quiet form of protection, one that did not rely on aggression, but on awareness and presence. The father, larger and more imposing, carried himself with a different kind of energy. There was a calm authority in the way he stood, often positioning himself slightly apart, yet never truly distant.

We couldn’t believe how close they came to us.

What fascinated us most was the way they interacted with one another. Their communication was subtle, almost invisible if we were not paying close attention. A slight tilt of the head, a shift in stance, a gentle step closer or further away. There were no dramatic displays, yet there was a clear connection between them. It felt like watching a conversation unfold in a language we could not hear.

At times, it seemed as though they were aware of us in a more direct way. They approached closer than we had ever experienced before, closing the distance with a cautious curiosity. There were moments when they paused and looked in our direction, and it felt, at least to us, like eye contact. It is impossible to know what they truly perceive in those moments, but the feeling of being acknowledged, even briefly, is something that stays with us.

Giraffes are often described as gentle, and while that is true, it does not fully capture their complexity. They are independent yet social, cautious yet curious. They do not seek interaction, but they do not always avoid it either. There is a balance in their behavior that reflects a deep connection to their environment. They move through the world without disrupting it, taking what they need and leaving the rest untouched.

As the day slowly came to an end, the family began to drift away, just as quietly as they had arrived. There was no sudden departure, no clear signal that it was time to go. They simply moved on, step by step, until they disappeared back into the bush. The garden felt different afterward, not empty, but changed. As if it had briefly been part of something larger, something we were fortunate enough to witness.

We took this only possible shot, although not clear, to illustrate the size differential between the mom and her offspring.

Moments like these stay with us. Not because they are dramatic, but because they are honest. They remind us that the wild is not something separate from us, but something we are allowed to experience, if only for a little while, when everything aligns just right.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 6, 2016:

This clawfoot tub at the five-star Sofitel Legend Metropole in Hanoi is just what I needed for soaking. The master bath is huge with double sinks, a private water closet, and a glass-enclosed shower. Every possible lotion, potion, and amenity is provided. For more photos, please click here.

Wishing all of our American friends and family around the world a happy 4th of July as the USA celebrates its 250th anniversary of independence…

Posted by worldwide-admin on July 4, 2026 with 0 Comment

Today marks 250 years since the United States declared its independence, and there is something about that number that feels almost difficult to absorb fully. Two and a half centuries. It stretches far beyond a single lifetime, beyond generations of families, beyond the countless individual stories that have shaped what the country is today.

As we sit here, far from the place where it all began, the distance somehow adds to the reflection. There is a different perspective that comes with being away on a day like this. You think about the origins, about a group of people willing to step into uncertainty, to break away from what was known, and to create something entirely new. It could not have been easy, and yet they did it with a sense of purpose that still echoes all these years later.

The Fourth of July has always carried a certain energy. It is often filled with gatherings, familiar foods, flags waving in the summer air, and fireworks lighting up the night sky. But today feels different. The 250th anniversary brings with it a deeper awareness of time. It invites a kind of reflection beneath the celebrations. It asks you to consider not just what the country is, but what it has been through to arrive here.

Over the past 250 years, the United States has experienced moments of triumph and struggle that have shaped its identity in ways that are both inspiring and complicated. There have been periods of growth and innovation that changed not only the nation itself but also influenced the world beyond its borders. At the same time, there have been challenges that forced the country to confront its own ideals and question how closely it has lived up to them.

For those of us who have spent years traveling, moving from place to place, and seeing the world through different lenses, a day like today becomes even more layered. You begin to see the United States not only as home, but as part of a much larger global story. You meet people in other countries who have their own perceptions and experiences tied to what America represents. It adds depth to what might otherwise feel like a purely national celebration.

There is also something personal about it. When you think about 250 years, you cannot help but think about the generations that came before, the choices they made, the lives they lived, and how those decisions ripple forward into the present. It becomes less about history as a concept and more about connection. A recognition that the present moment is built on countless moments that came before it.

Sitting here today, there is no grand celebration around us, no fireworks overhead, no crowds gathering in shared excitement. Instead, there is a quieter acknowledgment. A sense of appreciation mixed with reflection. It feels more introspective than festive, and in some ways, that seems fitting for a milestone of this size.

The United States at 250 is not a simple story. It is not something that can be summed up easily or neatly. It is a country that continues to evolve, to adapt, and to face new challenges while carrying the weight of its past. That complexity is part of what makes it what it is.

And so today becomes less about a single moment of celebration and more about a pause. A moment to look back, to consider the journey, and to recognize that the story is still unfolding. Even from afar, there is a sense of connection that remains strong, shaped not only by where we are, but by where we have been and what continues to tie us to that place.

Two hundred and fifty years is a long time. And yet, in many ways, it feels like the story is still just getting started.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 4, 2016:

A popular eco-friendly office building in Singapore. For more photos, please click here.

Update on dangerous Cape buffalo in Marloth Park…

Posted by worldwide-admin on July 3, 2026 with 0 Comment

This is the Cape buffalo that entered Marloth Park yesterday and was considered a danger to humans. It was too aggressive to be captured, could not be moved, and was euthanized. Image – Roland William Patrick

“UPDATE: THE DAGGA BOY’S JOURNEY HAS COME TO AN END

Sadly, the Dagga Boy(Buffalo) that wandered out of the Kruger National Park into the Marloth Park area has been put down.

After efforts to manage the situation, the difficult decision was made in the interest of public safety. While this is not the outcome many were hoping for, it serves as a reminder of the challenges faced when wild animals move beyond protected areas.

These magnificent animals belong in the wild, and every effort is made to protect both wildlife and the communities they interact with.

A sad ending to an extraordinary journey.

Rest well, Old Warrior

“

There is a tendency for many of us, especially those who visit national parks as we do, to view wildlife through a romantic lens. We arrive with cameras in hand, eager to capture a perfect sighting, a lion in golden light, a herd of elephants crossing the road, or a lone giraffe silhouetted against the horizon. In those moments, everything appears as it should be. The animals seem free, untamed, and thriving in a vast wilderness. But the reality, when observed over time and with a more thoughtful eye, is often far more complicated and, at times, deeply unsettling.

In places such as Kruger National Park, as magnificent as it is, life for wild animals is rarely easy. Survival is a constant struggle. Food is not guaranteed. Water sources dry up. Injuries go untreated. An animal that limps today may not survive the week. Predators hunt not out of malice but necessity, and the scenes that unfold can be difficult to witness. A kill is not always swift. The suffering of prey animals can linger, and the sounds alone are enough to stay with you long after you have left the bush.

A family of three zebras often visits, drinking from the splash pool.

Even beyond the predator-prey dynamic, there are other harsh realities. Droughts can devastate entire regions, leaving animals desperate. We have seen emaciated antelopes wandering slowly, their ribs sharply visible, even here in Marloth Park, searching for sustenance that is not there. Waterholes become crowded and tense, with competition increasing as resources diminish. The strongest survive, while the weak quietly disappear.

Human impact, even in protected parks, cannot be ignored. Fences, roads, and increasing tourism alter natural movement patterns. Animals are forced to adapt in ways that are not always beneficial to their well-being. In some cases, they become habituated to humans, approaching vehicles or camps in search of food. This often leads to dangerous encounters, not only for people but also for the animals themselves, who may ultimately pay the price for behavior shaped by our presence.

Poaching remains another tragic aspect of life in many wildlife parks around the world. Despite ongoing conservation efforts, animals such as rhinos and elephants are still targeted. The loss is not only individual but also deeply affects social structures within the species. A herd that loses a matriarch or a calf experiences disruption that can last for years. These are not isolated incidents but ongoing threats that add another layer of hardship to an already difficult existence.

In other parts of the world, the story is much the same. Whether in Africa, Asia, or South America, wild animals face mounting pressures from habitat loss, climate change, and human encroachment. Forests are cleared, migration routes are blocked, and traditional feeding grounds disappear. Animals are left to navigate a world that is changing far faster than they can adapt.

And yet, despite all of this, there is resilience. Animals continue to live, to raise their young, and to follow instincts that have guided them for generations. There are moments of peace and beauty that remind us why these places matter so much. A mother nurturing her young, a herd moving together in unity, birds calling at sunrise. These moments are real, but they exist alongside a harsher truth.

We’ve been spotting giraffes in the garden every few days.

To spend time in the bush is to witness both sides of this reality. It is a privilege, but it also comes with a responsibility to see beyond the surface. The lives of wild animals are not idyllic. They are fragile, often difficult, and sometimes heartbreaking. Recognizing this does not diminish their beauty. Instead, it deepens our understanding and, hopefully, strengthens our commitment to protecting what remains.

It is always sad to see that even the loss of a single Cape buffalo, as happened yesterday, can weigh heavily on those of us who spend time observing and appreciating these animals. Each life in the wild has meaning, not only within its herd but also to those of us who have come to respect its presence. Watching them day after day creates a quiet connection. When one is gone, it is impossible not to notice the absence. It serves as a reminder that life in the bush is fragile and that every moment we witness is both special and fleeting.

I especially feel this after the recent loss of my favorite wild animal, Norman, the nyala, who had become an integral part of my enchantment with the bush. I miss him each day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 3, 2016:

In Singapore, the displays with menu options are meant to whet passersby’s appetites. For more photos, please click here.

Warning!!!…Dangerous animal roaming the roads in Marloth Park!!!

Posted by worldwide-admin on July 2, 2026 with 2 Comments

We took this photo of a Cape buffalo in Kruger National Park on September 21, 2018. They look scary even when at rest. For more of our Cape buffalo photos, please click here.

This morning, the message below from the rangers in Marloth Park made its way across social media, catching the attention of both residents and the steady stream of holiday visitors. During this busy school holiday season, when the park feels more alive with human activity, the warning carried a noticeable weight. A new danger, they explained, has begun to move among us, angrily and with purpose. It was a reminder that even in familiar surroundings, the balance can shift. We are urged to remain alert, to respect the wildlife, and to proceed with a level of caution that never drifts into complacency.

“Good morning.

The Rangers have issued a general warning that an aggressive rogue BUFFALO BULL (DAGGA BOY) has broken through the KNP fence and is roaming around in Marloth Park!

It is currently moving around in Olifant next to the Lionspruit fence towards Wildgoose!

The Rangers are on site trying to guide him away from the public!

Please do not try to chase or confront him or get in the way of the Rangers! The bull is VERY AGGRESSIVE and could charge at vehicles or people, or attack!

YOUR LIFE WILL BE IN DANGER!!

Your full cooperation is appreciated!

For all inquiries, contact the Rangers:

Rangers 082 802 5894.”

Cape buffalo are not like the other animals we so often admire from a comfortable distance. They do not startle easily, nor do they retreat simply because a human presence is near. There is a confidence about them that can feel unsettling, especially when they wander into areas where people live, cook, and go about their daily routines. In places like Marloth Park, where the boundary between wilderness and home is intentionally blurred, this creates a delicate balance that can shift in an instant.

“Buffalo are inherent carriers of viruses fatal to domestic stock, and for this reason, disease-free Buffalo are specifically bred in areas such as the Eastern Cape in South Africa and fetch very high prices.” From our post on October 20, 2018, found here.

We have learned, sometimes through uneasy observation, that buffalo are deeply unpredictable. One moment, they may appear calm, grazing quietly, their massive bodies swaying gently as they tear at the grass. The next moment, without any obvious trigger, their posture changes. A raised head, a fixed stare, a subtle shift in stance, and suddenly the air feels heavier. It is not always aggression, but it is always a reminder that they are not here to coexist on human terms.

What makes them particularly dangerous in populated areas is their sheer size and strength, combined with a tendency to stand their ground. Unlike some animals that flee at the first sign of disturbance, buffalo may choose to confront what they perceive as a threat. A person walking too close, a vehicle approaching from the wrong angle, even the sound of voices carried on the wind can be enough to provoke a reaction. And once that reaction begins, it unfolds with startling speed.

There is also something deeply protective in their nature. Buffalo move in herds, and within those herds, there is a strong sense of unity. If one feels threatened, others may respond. It is not uncommon for a single animal’s agitation to ripple outward, creating a situation that escalates far beyond what one might expect from a solitary encounter. In a human setting, where fences, pathways, and buildings limit movement, this can quickly become dangerous.

Our photo of three Cape buffaloes crossing the road in Kruger.

We have heard stories from locals, told in quiet voices, about encounters that turned serious in seconds. A man stepping outside at dusk, unaware of a buffalo standing just beyond the edge of his garden. A cyclist rounding a bend in the road finds himself face-to-face with a bull. These are not exaggerated tales meant to alarm. They are reminders that living alongside wildlife requires a level of respect that never fades into complacency.

Even from our veranda, where we often feel like observers rather than participants, the prospect of a buffalo’s presence changes everything. Conversations pause. Movements slow. We find ourselves watching more carefully, not out of fear alone, but out of an understanding that this animal operates on instincts far removed from our own. There is no negotiation, no shared language of intention.

Our photo from Kruger…A lonely-looking Cape buffalo.

And yet, there is something profoundly humbling about sharing space with such a creature. The danger is real, undeniable, and demands attention. But it also reminds us that we are visitors here, even when we settle in and begin to feel at home. The buffalo does not adjust to us. We must adjust to it, learning to read the subtle signals, to keep a respectful distance, and to accept that not every moment in the bush is meant to be comfortable.

In the end, the presence of Cape buffalo in human areas is not simply a matter of risk. It is a reflection of the fragile line we walk between appreciation and intrusion. Each encounter asks something of us: awareness, patience, and above all, respect. Without these, the consequences can be swift and unforgiving, a reminder that the wild does not bend, even when it briefly overlaps with our own world.

We will keep you updated on this event as it unfolds.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 2, 2016:

Live crabs at a Singapore fish market. For more photos, please click here.

The amazing tree frog…More new photos…

Posted by worldwide-admin on July 1, 2026 with 0 Comment

This tree frog is resting on the inside edge of the outdoor refrigerator. We’ll never know how it manages to get in there. They left for a week and later returned. Even the little things in Marloth Park never cease to amaze us.

There is something magical about tree frogs in South Africa, especially as the seasons shift and the nights lose their summer warmth. We tend to think of these delicate little creatures as permanent residents of the warm, humid evenings, clinging to reeds or perched near outdoor lights, patiently waiting for insects to drift by. But when temperatures drop, their lives change in ways that are both subtle and remarkable.

Tom put some meat out for the genet, and later, the trail cam took this photo. Not a clear photo, but fun to see.

Unlike mammals, tree frogs do not hibernate in the traditional sense, yet they enter a state very close to it. In the cooler regions of South Africa, particularly in places where winter nights can be surprisingly cold, these frogs slow their metabolism to conserve energy. It is less a deep sleep and more a quiet retreat from the world, a waiting period that allows them to survive until warmth returns. They are often found in the most peculiar places, here in Marloth Park.

As the air cools, tree frogs begin searching for safe, hidden spaces. They may slip beneath loose bark, tuck themselves into crevices in trees, or burrow lightly into leaf litter where the earth still holds a bit of warmth. Some species take advantage of manmade structures, finding shelter in thatched roofs, garden sheds, or even the corners of outdoor furniture. Wherever they settle, the goal is the same. Protection from temperature extremes and a place where moisture will not completely disappear.

This zebra was waiting nearby while the lucerne was being delivered from Daisy’s Den. Once the delivery guy left, she dug right into it. A short time later, six more zebras stopped by to partake.

What fascinates me most is how their bodies respond. Their metabolism slows dramatically. Heart rates drop. Breathing becomes almost imperceptible. They are still alive, still aware on some level, but everything is reduced to the bare minimum required for survival. It is as if they place themselves on pause, trusting that the world will soften again in time.

My boy, Chewy, stops by several times a day to see what’s on the menu. Today, it was raw red cabbage leaves, celery tops, and sweet potatoes.

Moisture plays an important role in this process. Tree frogs rely heavily on their skin to maintain hydration, and during these dormant periods, they must avoid drying out. The microclimate of their chosen hiding spot becomes critical. Too dry, and they risk dehydration. Too wet and cold, and they may struggle to maintain balance. Nature, however, has a way of guiding them to just the right place, a pocket of stability in an otherwise unpredictable season.

Bushbuck Marigold stops by eight or ten times a day.

In some cases, particularly in milder areas like the Lowveld, where Marloth Park is located, they may not fully retreat for the entire winter. On warmer days or after an unexpected rain, you might still hear a faint call at dusk or catch sight of one moving slowly along a branch. These brief appearances feel like quiet reminders that they are still there, simply waiting for the right moment to return fully.

Their survival strategy is not dramatic. There is no grand migration or visible transformation. Instead, it is a lesson in stillness. They conserve, they hide, they endure. And then, almost overnight, when the rains begin and the air warms, they reappear. The silence gives way to a chorus. The stillness becomes movement. Life resumes as if it had only been gently paused.

Sitting outside on a cool day or evening, it is easy to forget that just a few meters away lies this tiny creature patiently waiting on the interior edge of the outdoor refrigerator door. In a world that often feels fast and restless, something is grounding about that. They do not rush the seasons. They adapt, quietly and effectively, trusting in the pace of the environment around them.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 1, 2016:

Tom likes these “wienie wraps!’ in Singapore. These are SGD 1 and US $ 0.74. For more photos, please click here.

Excellent anniversary dinner in the bush…

Posted by worldwide-admin on June 29, 2026 with 0 Comment

Our 35th anniversary of meeting was indeed a special day. Then again, every day we spend together feels special in its own quiet, steady way. Perhaps it is the quality of our lives, constantly moving yet somehow grounded, or perhaps it is simply the comfort that comes from knowing one another so well after all these years. Whatever the reason, there isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t recognize how fortunate we are to be sharing this journey.

I made Sauteed Cognac Garlic Mushrooms to go with the steaks.

As we sit here now on the veranda, cherishing what can only be described as a perfect sunny day, the bush seems to put on a show just for us. Before our eyes, five species wander in and out of view as if they have all agreed to gather at once. A kudu moves gracefully through the trees, its long horns catching the light. Not far behind, our friend Hal, the wildebeest lingers, his heavy steps stirring the dust. A shy duiker appears briefly, pausing just long enough to remind us how much we might have missed if we had looked away. Several bushbucks stand alert in the distance, while a warthog ambles along with its usual determined stride.

What could be more magical than this, especially on a day like today?

Moments like these settle deeply within us. They remind us of why we chose this lifestyle, why we continue to embrace the unknown, and why we remain so grateful for each experience, no matter how big or small. It would be easy to focus on the inconveniences that come along with living this way, and yes, there are always a few. But more often than not, those minor annoyances become part of the story, something we learn to work around or accept.

Take the insects, for example. As the weather warms, they arrive in numbers that are hard to ignore. With no screens on the veranda doors, which we keep open day and night while we are outside, they come and go as they please. We have learned to adjust. The bedroom door stays closed at all times, and the windows are rarely opened, not only because of the insects but because of the ever-present risk of baboons and monkeys finding their way inside and leaving chaos behind.

In the warmer months, repellent becomes part of our daily routine. We apply it throughout the day and again before bed, a simple act that offers some comfort. Each evening, while we sit outdoors enjoying dinner, Tom sprays the bedroom, so the time we spend outside doubles as time for the fumes to dissipate. It is not a perfect solution, but it works for us.

There is always a balance to be found. On the one hand, there is concern about chemical exposure; on the other, the very real risks that come with mosquito bites and sleepless nights filled with the constant buzzing of insects. It becomes a matter of weighing one against the other, of deciding what allows us the most peace of mind.

These steaks were very thick but turned out medium rare for Tom and rare for me. Grass-fed meat can be tough, so I marinated the steaks, and they were delicious. This morning, we gave the fat scraps to the mongooses. They loved it.

And really, isn’t life itself a balancing act?

We are constantly adjusting, shifting our priorities between work and play, relationships and independence, health and indulgence, planning and spontaneity. Each choice we make contributes to the overall picture of our lives, shaping not only what we do but how we feel about it all. Happiness may come and go in fleeting moments, but contentment, that deeper sense of satisfaction, feels far more attainable when we learn to manage that balance.

As we reflect on these years together, and on this day in particular, it becomes clear that contentment has been one of our greatest achievements. Not because everything has been perfect, but because we have learned to appreciate what is right in front of us, even when it requires a bit of compromise.

And that, in the end, is what defines the quality of our lives.

May you all find your own version of that balance, and with it, the kind of contentment that carries you gently through each day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, June 29, 2016:

Sri Mariamman Temple, which we toured. For more photos, please click here.

South Africa’s school holidays have begun until July 22…Not much wildlife around…But we are!…Celebrating a special anniversary…

Posted by worldwide-admin on June 28, 2026 with 0 Comment

Hornbill eating seeds off the birdfeeder.

School holidays in South Africa carry a feeling that is hard to explain unless you have lived through them, season after season, watching how the pace of everyday life shifts. It begins before the actual break arrives. You can sense it in the conversations at the shops, in the slower pace at the petrol stations, and in the way families begin preparing for time together. There is an anticipation that settles in, especially in places close to nature, where holidays are less about schedules and more about space.

Big Daddy eating lucerne with bushbucks and an elusive duiker in far right.

For many families, school holidays mean travel. Cars are packed to the brim with coolers, bags, and often far more than anyone truly needs. Roads leading out of the cities become busier as people head toward the coast, the bush, or small towns where life feels simpler. In areas like Marloth Park, you start to notice new faces arriving, a steady flow of visitors who bring with them a different kind of energy.

Children, free from the structure of school days, seem to expand into the space around them. Mornings are no longer rushed. There are no uniforms to press or lunches to pack in a hurry. Instead, the day unfolds slowly. Kids ride bikes along dusty roads, swim for hours if there is a pool nearby, or wander, discovering things that would go unnoticed during busier times. There is a natural return to simple pleasures, the kind that do not require planning.

Kudus, including Bg Daddy and the girls.

In wildlife areas such as Marloth Park, the holidays take on an even more unique character. Families sit outdoors longer, watching animals come and go as if they, too, are part of the routine. Children learn patience without realizing it, waiting quietly for a kudu or a warthog to approach. These moments become small lessons, not taught in classrooms but absorbed through experience. It is not unusual to see families gathered together in the late afternoon, drinks in hand, sharing stories while keeping an eye on the bush.

Of course, there is also a livelier side to school holidays. Restaurants, bars, and gathering spots become busier, filled with laughter and conversation. People who may only see each other once or twice a year reconnect as if no time has passed. There is something comforting about this, a sense of community that feels stronger when everyone has stepped away from their usual routines. Even simple outings feel more meaningful because they are shared during this break from everyday life.

For some, holidays are not about travel at all. They are about staying home and enjoying the quiet. Without the constant demands of school schedules, there is time to catch up on things that often get pushed aside. Families spend more time together in ordinary ways, cooking, talking, or just sitting without feeling the need to rush off to the next obligation. These four-times-a-year holidays have their own kind of richness, one that is easy to overlook but deeply satisfying.

Grand events or strict plans do not define school holidays in South Africa. They are shaped by moments, by connection, and by a shared understanding that this time is meant to be different. It is a pause, not just from school, but from the pace of life itself, offering a chance to breathe, to notice, and to be.

Often, we find ourselves complaining about the lack of wildlife during the holidays, missing the quiet times we have come to treasure. But when we pause and look around, it is impossible not to smile at the sight of children riding bikes, families laughing, and people fully embracing this magical place. The energy is different, yet still meaningful.

On another note, today marks thirty-five years since we first met. In many ways, we celebrate this day even more than our wedding anniversary, since it was the moment everything began, when we first laid eyes on one another and knew something special had begun.

Be well

Photo from ten years ago today, June 28, 2016:

Tag: nomads

“Health Officials Are Warning Travelers About Flesh-eating Bacteria in Warm Coastal Waters This Summer

PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR THE VIDEO.

“UPDATE: THE DAGGA BOY’S JOURNEY HAS COME TO AN END