As Allan’s secretary closed the door behind her, Allan and I shook hands and switched to first names, a mid-Atlantic nod to my unfortunate Americanness. “Good to see you, Parker,” he said. “It looks like the stop in Johannesburg gave you enough time to buy a suit.” I nodded. The clothes also cost more than […]
33 – Sixty US Left Read More »
This is where Swimming in Air begins. March 1988. I reached to the other side of the bed for Vivian, but felt only cold, empty sheets. Still groggy after the eleven-hour flight from Johannesburg to London, I settled back, stared at the ornate ceiling of my Edwardian-era hotel room, and thought about how we live
32 – “My fiancée,” I lied. Read More »
We arrived in Lilongwe expecting a bustling capital like Nairobi or Lusaka, but instead found a quiet, approachable town with fewer than 250,000 residents. Following Africa on a shoestring’s recommendation, we headed to the Lilongwe Golf Club, where we met Sally, a middle-aged White Malawian who welcomed us warmly and showed us around. She said
Five days after leaving Bujumbura, we arrived at Mpulungu, the Zambian port city at the southern tip of Lake Tanganyika. Over breakfast, a backpacker at the next table leaned over and asked if we had just gotten off the Liemba. When we said yes, he joined us. “Joe Hollins. I’m going north on the Liemba
30 – Arrested for Writing in a Diary Read More »
The next day our planned escape from Zaire began with a passenger ferry down Lake Kivu to Bukavu at its southern end. From there, we would briefly cross back into Rwanda before heading south into Burundi. Our destination was the port city of Bujumbura at the northern tip of Lake Tanganyika. From there, we would
The next morning as we packed, our conversation was limited to practical matters. We flagged down a truck headed past the Rumangabo park headquarters sixty kilometers to the north, and sat quietly on our packs in the flatbed, looking for all the world like an old married couple with nothing left to say. We arrived
28 – The Spirits of the Jungle Read More »
After two days at the Catholic Mission being poverty tourists and arguing with each other, we were desperate for something else to occupy us during the wait. Another couple at the mission, who had just returned from climbing nearby Mount Nyiragongo, gave us that something. They told us the volcano had last erupted only eleven
This isn’t in the book, not because it’s uninteresting or didn’t happen, but because you can’t include everything. I hope you appreciate this outtake. The note pinned to the message board at Mrs. Roche’s read: ‘INEXPENSIVE SAFARI THROUGH THE SERENGETI, MASAI MARA, AND NGORONGORO CRATER. SEE JACK IN THE TENT NEAR THE TAN LAND ROVER.’
26 – The Ugandan Student Read More »
After ten days backpacking through northwestern Uganda, we were in the town of Kabale in the southwest. Vivian was exhausted and said she wanted to rest there, but I convinced her to continue on to Rwanda to see the mountain gorillas. From her diary: Es ist um 3 Uhr. Ich gehe ins Bett … It’s
25 – Poverty Tourists Read More »
It had been four days since we left Kampala, much of it standing on the backs of trucks or crammed into crowded cars, only to find that we wouldn’t be climbing the Rwenzori Mountains. The next day, we refused to let our disappointment turn into total failure. Asking around, we were told there might be
24 – Waiting For Moses Read More »
The “long rains” in Uganda, which normally start in March, arrived a month early that year. With the main roads in poor condition even during the dry season, no one could predict how long it would take to reach Kasese in the Rwenzori foothills, though everyone believed it was possible. While Kampala was functional and
23 – My Two Other Wives Have Children Read More »
Back at Mrs. Roche’s, we decided it was time to move on from Nairobi and put our next destination up for a non-binding vote among the porch dwellers. Uganda won. When we asked whether anyone had recently been there, Sara, a Canadian backpacker traveling alone, said she had. “You backpacked through Uganda by yourself?” Vivian
After nearly two weeks at Mrs. Roche’s, Vivian and I had become porch dwellers. Sitting on the veranda steps, I was reading an old Newsweek someone had left behind while Vivian perused her small pocket calendar. “Flaco, we’re almost halfway through our trip. Almost three months gone by. I’d like to see some of the
“How is Dahab these days? I remember it well.” The speaker was an imposing six-foot-four man with dark brown hair, a friendly smile, and an Israeli accent. “I’m Rafi, and this is my girlfriend, Dani.” A petite brunette who barely reached Rafi’s shoulders smiled and said hello. Rafi was in his early thirties, an Israeli
20 – Misunderstanding Lions Read More »
I woke to the captain’s announcement that we would shortly be landing at Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. Vivian was sound asleep and using my shoulder as a pillow, her reddish-blonde hair cascading down my back and arm. How beautiful, even while sleeping. Then I noticed a little drool on my shirt and remembered that
Vivian wrote this in German on Christmas Eve, on the flight between Cairo and Nairobi. Ameen was a Nubian of Cairo who became our mentor and friend. I have nothing more to add except the translation. Es ist November und schön warm… It’s November, pleasant and warm, vast Cairo wraps us in its arms. Honk
What follows is a scene that didn’t make it through editing — not because it isn’t true, but because you can’t tell everything. If it’s more than you want to know, feel free to skip it and come back next Thursday. During our stay in the Bedouin village of Dahab on Egypt’s Gulf of Aqaba
17 – Why the First Deities Were Sun Gods Read More »
We were jolted awake by a loud, mournful wail from just outside our window. Vivian sat upright, wide-eyed. “What’s that?” “I think it’s the first call to prayers.” “Are you sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the soldiers we saw everywhere last night?” I wasn’t sure of anything, but I said, “Don’t be
16 – Living the Dream Read More »
Backpacking on a budget, you often have no clear idea where you will end up or how long it will take you to get there, but that’s part of the adventure. The best information usually comes from travelers heading in the opposite direction. Next, but necessarily out of date, are travel guides like The Cairo
What follows is a scene that didn’t make it through editing — not because it isn’t true, but because it’s full of details about preparing to backpack for a year in the pre-digital 1980s. If it’s more than you want to know, feel free to skip it and come back next Thursday. Mac helped us
14 – The Difficulty of Doing Nothing Read More »
In midsummer of 1987, I was fired. A British firm acquired ExaSoft’s home office and decided to merge my Munich operation into its London office. They gave me until September to transition the Munich operation to a new managing director. After that, I would be unemployed. When I told Vivian, she asked, “Flaco, what does
In May, Vivian’s mother, Astrid, called from Buenos Aires. “Good news!” Vivian exclaimed with a smile after she hung up. “Mutti’s coming to visit at the end of the month. She’ll stay with us, of course.” “Of course,” I replied, swallowing hard. While Vivian was happy to have her mother visit, I constantly felt scrutinized.
Vivian rented a room from an East German refugee named Ansgar. In early November, Ansgar’s girlfriend unexpectedly returned from an overseas assignment and found him in bed with another woman. Vivian hid in her room and pretended not to hear their fight, but the next morning, the girlfriend knocked on her door. “You have to
11 – The Problem is When I’m That Person I’m Happy Read More »
TW: Sexual Assault “I was eighteen, nearly finished with high school, riding the bus home from the Goethe Schule. Four years earlier, I was proud of the uniform with the large ‘G’ that meant I was growing up. Now, even after shortening the skirt just a bit more than the school allowed and tailoring it
10 – I Guess I Still Have Work to Do Read More »
As summer gave way to the chilly German fall, I stopped by Vivian’s apartment one Friday to pick her up for a date and found a man there. She introduced him as Martín, visiting from Buenos Aires. We shook hands and eyed each other closely. Later, when we were in the car, I asked, “Who’s
9 – Shut The Engine Off Read More »
A week later, Vivian and I walked to the small Kleinhesseloher See at the north end of the Englischer Garten, rented a paddle boat, and floated around, mostly annoying the quacking ducks, who were offended by our presence. “We signed the Philips contract yesterday,” I said. “It looks like I have a real business now.”
8 – I’ve Never Seen a Proton Either Read More »
One late-summer Munich morning in 1986, Vivian and I were walking to the Alte Pinakothek art museum, and I made the mistake of questioning her business skills. “How did you learn to negotiate so well?” I asked. “In Argentina, it’s normal. We negotiate for almost everything.” “I take it you didn’t have much money growing
7 – Men Just Seem to Wander Read More »
In early summer, Vivian took me to a tearoom called the Friesische Teestube, the Frisian tea café. Tucked into a quiet corner of Schwabing, not far from her apartment, it was an intimate setting where people read and quietly talked. Its muted lighting and dark wood paneling created a distinctly gemütlich atmosphere. There she introduced
6 – Now I Live to Live Read More »
Our Chianti had barely arrived when Vivian said, “You know, I’m not interested in anything serious.” I half expected the topic to come up that evening, but I didn’t think it would be the first thing out of the gate. “That’s disappointing. I thought our children would be very handsome. Now I have to take
5 – Like an Argentine Tango Read More »
Swimming in Air: Week 4 Weeks later, Ms. Falkenberg and I met at a café in the city center. I had missed my regular lesson, and she agreed to a makeup session on Saturday morning — professional and public, she insisted. When she arrived, she crossed the room with an easy self-confidence that turned heads.
4 -My Mind Is German, But My Heart Is Argentine Read More »
An attractive young woman stood in the doorway of my office. She wore little makeup and was dressed strictly for business. “Falkenberg. Sprechen wir Englisch oder Deutsch?” My German teacher. I understood that her name was Ms. Falkenberg and that she wanted to know whether we should speak German or English. I indicated English. She
3 – The Indispensable Colleague Read More »
As I checked into the residential hotel where I would spend my first month in Munich, I asked the receptionist whether it was safe to walk to a restaurant through the Englischer Garten, the city’s large, mostly unlit central park. She laughed. Munich. 1986. Earlier that day, I arrived at Munich-Riem Airport. At the taxi
There’s a story about two young fish swimming along when they meet an older fish going the other way. “Morning, boys,” he says. “How’s the water?” The two young fish swim on for a while until one turns to the other and asks, “What’s water?” David Foster Wallace crafted his 2005 Kenyon College speech around