Read an Excerpt
1. BATHROOM BREAK
Serengeti National Park, Tanzania
The Serengeti Plain is what travelers think of when they imagine Africa—endless vistas across grasslands speckled with acacia trees and traversed by millions of wildebeest. All this food means there are plenty of predators, too. The Serengeti is home to 3,000 lions, 1,000 leopards, and 8,000 hyenas.
Many of us know the hyena from its lowly depiction in The Lion King. The reality is that hyenas are formidable predators, reaching speeds of 35 miles per hour, wielding a bite of more than 1,000 pounds per square inch, and killing more than two-thirds of what they eat. They get big, weighing almost 200 pounds on a frame that is three-feet tall at their shoulders.
Hyenas have often been the villain of stories told in response to our favorite question, “What’s the strangest thing you have seen here?” A pilot described how he left his plane on the runway only to return and find a pride of hyenas gnawing on the plane’s tires. By the time the beasts were chased off, most of the tires had been torn apart.
A safari guide told of how a group of trainees was sleeping in the bush with their boots beside their heads. Given the dangers of slumbering outdoors, they took turns staying up. Unfortunately, one of the watchmen fell asleep before awakening his replacement. At daybreak, all of their boots were gone. They followed hyena tracks, finding only a trail of shoe debris. No intact boots were recovered.
Hyenas are even known to prey upon humans. One guide in Botswana described how a hyena attacked an 8-year-old tourist from behind while she was sitting next to her father enjoying a campfire. Her father kicked the hyena off of her, but not before it torn her ear off. She was lucky to have lived. In one district adjacent to Serengeti National Park, government officials reported 24 human fatalities from hyena attacks over a five-year period. In other words, the hyena is to be taken seriously.
Scott’s Story
It was spring 2021, and the Serengeti lodge we were staying at had only been open for a couple of weeks following a nearly one-year closure due to COVID travel restrictions. We were among the first Americans to return to the Serengeti. For five days, we drove across the plains—and never saw another safari vehicle. It was like being transported back in time. The animals had reclaimed their domain. They came closer to our vehicle than ever before, showing no reaction to our presence. One evening, we watched a pride of lions kill a zebra walking less just ten yards from us. Another day, young lions played tug-a-war with a baby baboon, running circles around our land rover.
In these halcyon days of post-COVID freedom, one game sighting led to another. We didn’t want to go back to the lodge until we had to. On these long sojourns, bathroom breaks were a necessity. But the grassy plains are not conducive to privacy. Modesty can only be preserved in and around piles of boulders called kopjes, which appear as islands on the endless grasslands. Each of these kopjes is covered with trees and shrubs, the perfect hiding place for predators to scout for their next meal—or to take a nap in the shade. If you’ve ever seen The Lion King, you know what a kopje is. It’s Pride Rock.
Upon considering a kopje for a bathroom break, our guide first drove in a circle around the rocks, scanning for predators. Seeing none, the guide then got out and walked around, clapping his hands and peering into the bushes. On this fateful day, our guide did exactly as trained. Afterwards, he returned and proclaimed the kopje free of animals. He directed us to visit the near side of the kopje while he would visit the far side.
I offered Gina first chance, but she declined. I hopped out of the open-sided land rover and found a private spot, out of her direct line of sight. There was a sturdy breeze behind me as I relieved myself in the direction of a large bush. Just as I was finishing up, though, the bush in front of me began to shake. This was not the gentle shake of a bird hopping around its branches, but the shifting of something much larger rising from within it.
Before I could fully zip-up, a large head emerged from the bush—only three feet from where I was standing. It was a large hyena. Over many decades of spending time in the wilderness, I had often been told that there is one thing you never, ever do when you come face-to-face with a predator. “DON’T RUN,” they always told me. Doing so triggers the predator’s natural instinct to attack because, what does its prey do? The prey runs.
Unfortunately, I did not remember these words when my eyes were locked with the peed-upon hyena’s angry stare. It was fight-or-flight. So I turned, half-zipped, and ran right out into the open grassland of the Serengeti plain.
“Hyena! Help!” I heard Gina scream as loud as she could, trying to get the guide’s attention.
I kept running, as fast as I could, until I was out of breath and had to stop. I had gone a considerable distance and was feeling confident that I had outrun the hyena. But when I turned around, there she was—standing right behind me, staring at me with its head cocked. Neither of us were moving. It was a standoff.
Our vehicle was parked off to the right of the hyena. Gina was still screaming for help. Her yells attracted the hyena’s attention, and it looked over its shoulder in her direction. I took this as my opportunity for escape and bolted toward the land rover. My change in direction startled the hyena, and it ran the other way. When I reached safety, the hyena was standing on a little rise in the distance, gazing in our direction.
Gina took one look at me and started laughing.
That’s how the guide found us when he came back from the other side of the kopje. “What happened?” he asked, looking confused.
“Scott was going to the bathroom behind those bushes, and then I see him running away at full speed. Right on his heels is that hyena,” Gina said, pointing to the hyena watching us from the rise.
Our guide shook his head and got out his pen and notepad and started writing.
“What are you writing?” I asked.
“It’s my list of warnings I give to guests. I’m adding a new one. ‘Don’t pee on a hyena!’” he said.
2. PURA VIDA
Costa Rica
Blue Zones are regions where more people live to be 100 years old, often reaching old age in a state of relatively good health. Among the places qualifying as a Blue Zone is Costa Rica’s Nicoya Peninsula. Residents of the Nicoya Peninsula are noted for having an active lifestyle and a plant and seafood-based diet, similar to other Blue Zones around the world.
But there’s also a unique culture in Costa Rica. Wherever you go, you hear people saying “pura vida.” Strictly translated to English, this means “pure life,” but for Costa Ricans, it’s something more. Pura vida represents a low-stress mentality that appreciates the simpler things in life—family, friends, and food.
Our guide in Costa Rica talked a lot about his grandfather—who he claimed was 111 years old and still alive. Our destination was the Celeste River in Tenorio Volcano National Park. Its waters are electric blue, the color of blue Gatorade. Even odder is that this brilliant color is created when two colorless tributaries merge. One river has a high concentration of particles, and the other a high level of acidity. When their waters merge, the acidity of one river causes the particulates of the other to aggregate until they are the right size to scatter blue light—thereby coloring the river turquoise.
When we reached this magnificent river, our guide told us how his grandfather came to “discover” the Celeste River.
The Centenarian’s Story
“My grandfather is 111 years old. He was the first European to ever set eyes on the Celeste River. When he was a young man, he was hired by the government to conduct surveys in northern Costa Rica. One of his assignments included the lands that became this national park.
“In those days, my grandfather relied heavily on the assistance of indigenous peoples to conduct his surveys. The Tenorio Volcano was located in the ancestral lands of the Maleku so he secured an elder from the tribe to accompany him. There aren’t many Maleku left today. The last census only found 600 of them.
“The Maleku elder took my grandfather first to the Celeste River Falls. As my grandfather was transfixed by the strangely colored waters, the Maleku told him a tale of forbidden love between two rival families, sort of a Costa Rican Romeo and Juliet. When their families banned them from seeing each other, the girl ran away to take her own life. Her lover chased after her, tracking her through the rainforest. Her trail ended at the turquoise pool beneath the Celeste River Falls. For a moment, the boy was dazzled by the brilliant color of the water. But then he saw his beloved’s clothing on the rocks, indicating she had gone into the churning waters. He dove in and searched, trying to find her, but to no avail. Dejected, he went back to the waterfall and sat on the rocks, holding her clothing next to his heart. As he cried for her, a blue butterfly emerged from the water and flew to him, landing squarely on his lips. According to the Malekus, the girl’s spirit continues to inhabit the blue river and the blue butterflies that call it home.
“After the story, the Maleku elder took my grandfather to the source of the magical waters, where they first turn blue. Grandpa was amazed to see two clear streams merge into turquoise. The Maleku then instructed my grandfather to take off all of his clothes and walk into the river with him. When they reached the point where the waters turned blue, they lay down and submerged themselves in its waters.
“The Maleku elder began to drink the blue water and urged my grandfather to do the same. Grandpa told me that the water had an unusual taste, one he could not describe. After drinking it, he felt strange and mildly ill for several days.
“Grandfather’s an educated man, and one of his favorite books is the ancient history of Greece by Herodotus. When grandfather got back from the jungle, he remembered a story in Herodotus about a special kind of water that enabled people to live to be up to 120 years old. I have here Herodotus’ words.”
The guide took out his wallet and pulled a paper from it. After unfolding it, he read from Herodotus: “‘[H]e led them to a fountain, wherein when they had washed, they found their flesh all glossy and sleek, as if they had bathed in oil—and a scent came from the spring like that of violets. The water was so weak, they said, that nothing would float in it, neither wood, nor any lighter substance, but all went to the bottom. If the account of this fountain be true, it would be their constant use of the water from it which makes them so long-lived.’
“To this day, grandfather believes that the Celeste River is a sort of a Fountain of Youth, like the one described by Herodotus. While it is now illegal to bathe in its waters—and many say the chemicals in the river are dangerous—my grandfather still comes here. He hides in the jungle until the park is closed. Then he sneaks into the river, soaking and drinking under the moonlight.
“I thought these were just the superstitions of an old man. However, studies of Costa Rica’s Blue Zone have revealed something strange about our drinking water. Wells in villages with high numbers of centenarians are unusually high in calcium and other minerals, which may slow the aging process.”
