4.20.07

WARNING - THE FOLLOWING BLOG ENTRY IS AROUND TWO THIRDS ABOUT OUR FAMILY VACATION TO SOUTH AFRICA.  IF YOU ARE PRONE TO NARCOLEPSY, OPERATE LARGE MACHINERY WHILE READING  BLOGS, ARE DOING BRAIN SURGERY WHILE HAVING SOMEONE READ THIS BLOG TO YOU, OR - LIKE ME - WOULD RATHER GNAW OFF YOUR OWN ARM THAN HEAR, IN EXCRUCIATINGLY LONG DETAIL, ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE'S FAMILY VACATION , STOP READING, THIS WILL QUITE POSSIBLY PUT YOU TO SLEEP. . . .there you've been warned.

Well when it was all said and done, the High Point show was sort of mixed this spring.  The first few days were really good for me, but there were already rumblings from friends of mine who were saying they were having bad shows, and traffic was definitely way off.  The thing is I am not sure if people are still comparing things to “the way they used to be.”  The reason I put it in quotations is when they use this phrase its referring specifically to the late 90’s and very early 2000’s.  I was in the upper end Persian rug business during the 90’s, and it seemed you could sell anything as long as it was indeed a rug, looked moderately good and you smiled to the customer now and then.  They were great years.  I think it’s a mistake to compare what is going on now to then.  The Internet then was well into inflating the bubble further and further, the stock market doing the same thing, we weren’t at war and everyone in general was walking around whistling a happy song in the air.  That time was an apex of economic good times.  Now we are more at the median level.  It seems that we have come a little out of the slump of the early 2000’s, but with that comes a new strategy both on the part of retailers as well as wholesalers.  Everyone is trying to avoid carrying inventory.  Lead times for ordering things seem to stick around 12-16 weeks when you are ordering from vendors (don’t let the lamp and upholstery people trick you into believing it will be 5-6 weeks – it won’t), and retailers are not typically buying “deep” into things.  They only want one or two of things.  Now obviously there are all sorts of exceptions to this rule, but in my world – in my clientele base both on my retail and wholesale end of things, this is the case.  In talking to my fellow vendors who sell similar market things (middle to upper end stuff), it’s the same.  Unless the buyers are 100% convinced about something, or know it’s a one of a kind piece, they are quite cautious.  

Add to that, people are now feeling like there are so many shows to go to, that each show has lost some of its power.  The reality is there really aren’t more shows to go to.  The San Francisco show sounds like it’s pretty much dead (if it exists at all), the LA one sounds pretty lame, I have never been to the Dallas show, but never really hear about it around the wholesaler water-cooler, Atlanta – some people swear by it as their greatest show to buy at or sell at, others just swear at it.  And then there is High Point vs. Las Vegas.  Las Vegas is only gearing up, getting bigger and bigger, building more and more buildings.  The pervasive sense of that show is equivalent to some Soviet era automaton (in a gambling, drinking, hooker-y sort of way) that will eventually overpower High Point.  High Point seems to have overproduced buildings like an oversexed Viagra induced rabbit warren, and now is feeling the pinch and that pinch is only going to get worse.  But unlike some people I have talked to (and this is the standard subject that comes up with buyers and wholesalers alike at the High Point show), I don’t think the High Point show is in danger of going under.  Its just going on some super starvation diet.  The problem is the operations end of things in High Point don’t seem to know how to handle it.  They continue to raise the rent on the vendors with steadily declining attendance.  That only inspires the vendors to start looking elsewhere for a better return on their time and money rather than going to the High Point show.  Eventually I would see the High Point show shrinking by a quarter or a third and then leveling out.  Las Vegas is simply a different market.  There is some crossover, but it really is a west coast market that will help to fill in where the San Fran and LA shows seem to lack.  Am I showing there yet?  No.  It’s still meat and potatoes, lower to middle end show, but eventually it will cover the spectrum, so eventually I see Bjorling & Grant being there.
 
Anyway, what got me started on that ramble was, the fist three days of the show were really good for us, but we were hearing from other good vendors that it was a little slack, and no one was in the halls, even buyers were saying no one was in the streets – and spring is typically the bigger of the two High Point shows.  The second half of the show, everything came to an abrupt halt.  Now this I say based only on what other people have told me, because yours truly bailed on the show half way through to go off to South Africa.  Now sure it wasn’t the best timing to leave mid-way through the show, and that might be in part why those last few days were so soft for us.  But as much as I would like to think that the only reason people buy my stuff is because of my wit and charm, the reality of it is there has to be people in the aisles to be privy to said wit and charm.  So in the end it was a pretty mediocre show.  In any case, I know if I had stayed and skipped out on my cousin’s wedding – I wouldn’t be recounting 20 years from now the great time I had at the second half of the spring High Point show.  I will, however, be talking about this trip 20 years from now and here is why.
 
As I mentioned my cousin Jenny was getting married in Johannesburg (which is abbreviated to Joberg, so that’s what we are going to do from here on in).  Our family, at times somewhat inconveniently (as far as being able to see them regularly), and at times somewhat conveniently (as far as having good excuses to travel), is spread haphazardly across the globe.  We have had this tradition since Lisa’s and my wedding (we were the first of our generation to tie the knot), to have as many as possible overseas relatives show up.  It turns the whole affair into this fantastic international family reunion each time.  Even to the point of my sister Fiona and her husband Ravi (who live five blocks away from us) had two weddings – one in Minnesota and one in Darjeeling in the Himalayas, and the whole ensemble from various ports arrived at both – including my wife’s parents and one of their best friends from Stockholm showing up in India for the affair.  So I could hardly not show up for the wedding because of good old High Point.
 
There is the background.  We arrived in Joberg on Friday night (all in all a 20 hour trip) in time for the equivalent of a grooms dinner – but really just a dinner for all of the relatives to get together before the wedding the next day.  My parents, Fiona Ravi and Tara, and most of my relatives from the North of Scotland had been there for a week already, which we were sorry to miss out on, but there you go (High Point again).   We were quite out of it that evening from jet lag and 25 hours of travel, but it was still great to see/meet many of our distant relatives.
 
Joberg itself is a pretty rough town.  All houses – rich and poor alike – have walls with some sort of pointy thing (barbed wire, razor wire, glass shards, pointy iron bits), on top of them surrounding their property.  There is so much crime and murder that it makes such security measures a necessity.  It doesn’t stop there, many of the middle to upper income families have the type of sliding metal accordion gates that we more typically see pulled across store front is tough parts of town in the States, inside their houses to secure off their sleeping quarters at night.  This is incase someone breaks in; they at least won’t be able to come into the bedroom and kill the homeowners in their sleep.  Its pretty shocking and a bit sad to see, but my relatives seem to just take it all in stride as the way they live, and it is just that.
 
The wedding itself was great.  Everyone who had a kilt was in one.  They are a bit heavy to travel with, but a must if you are going to be part of a Scottish wedding.  The notable part of the ceremony was the vows – the bride and groom reading to each other excerpts from the Tao of Pooh where piglet and Poh talk about hanging out together.  The reception was a very festive time with everyone having more than a wee dram.  Actually having all of these Scottish relatives brought to mind one of only a very few complaints I have about my childhood:  I don’t have a Scottish or Irish accent.  Sure when we lived there on and off as a child I would get one, but nothing permanent.  And sure I can speak with an Irish accent (I’m using one right now), but it’s not the same as actually having one.  My cousin Ian has this great north of Scotland accent, that as the evening went on only got thicker and thicker, for that matter, so did everyone else’s, probably including my American one (they all get a kick out of the American accent, but to me there is no comparison, although an Italian one might be nice, but again an Irish one would be ideal, but I digress).   Anyway, everyone survived the reception.
 
The next day we were off to Cape Town to stay on the coast in a little town just a few miles south of Cape Town in a little B&B with Fiona, Ravi and Tara.  Cape Town was beautiful.  Table Mountain right in the middle of it, the 12 apostles - part of the same geological formation as Table Mountain - running down the coast towards the Cape of Good Hope, all the great South African vineyards starting just on the edge of Cape Town, great walking areas, great restaurant, and great shopping.  It has a much safer, less barbed-wiry feeling to it.  No problem going downtown, although at night, you certainly don’t want to hang out there. We stayed in a great little B&B a block off the ocean in this little walking town just over the ridge from Cape Town (really there is no separation between the two - this is just a little village), and directly below Table Mountain  and the 12 Apostle range.  I must mention that my sister brought travel to a new level, at least in my world.  It's a simple thing, but for those of you who are pretty particular about not just having morning coffee, but having good morning coffee this is a big deal.  She brought what I now know she brings on every trip:   her traveling 6 cup French press and measuring spoon for ground coffee.  This made our mornings worth while.  I am someone who likes to pack as light as is humanly possible.  I can go to India with a carry on.  But, depending on the country I am going to (to use India as an example, the hotels I stay in there have great coffee), I am most definitely bringing one from now on.  Thailand - absolutely its coming along.



The first full day the six of us made our way down the cape to the aforementioned Cape of Good Hope which was spectacular.  The next day we went to some of the vineyards and I had one of the best meals I had in a long time. Nice and tender ostrich fillets on top of a sort of Indian flatbread vegetable roll with a superb cilantro and curry chilled sauce.  The wine of course was great. 

The following day it was off to do a little shopping for the business.  This was a great success.  I wasn’t really interested in the whole African mask and rain stick thing only because they seem to show up in every African import chachki shop in the States.  Much to my pleasure I found all sorts of things that I don’t see much over here, if at all.  Throwing knives from Cameroon (I’m not really into buying weapons, but these are super cool forms), ceramic bracelets the size of large bagels, and wrapped in leather, strange shaped various types of African money (imagine a large spade head made of iron only a little more elongated – this is money), great embossed cooking pots, Ethiopian filigree silver crosses of varying sizes and other odd one of a kind pieces.  I met a guy who sources these things up and down the west coast of Africa.   If we can pull all the logistics, pricing and quantities together, we could have a great source for very unusual pieces.

The next day Lisa Alex and I were off on a hike up a steep gorge to the top of Table Mountain.  At first it started out a little rough – hot blazing sun, no wind, fussy baby strapped to my chest in the Bjorn, steep incline up the side of the mountain.  In telling this story to Emily who runs the shop here in Minneapolis, she pointed out that if she could have been placed at various stops along the route with a nice martini or something, a comfy chair and an umbrella, maybe someone to fan her, it would have been terribly entertaining to watch.  Me dripping sweat, Alex letting out high pitched screams because he,  1-wants to go to sleep 2-wants to eat or 3-wants to be changed.  The only way to make him happy was to take him out of the Bjorn and walk up with him cradled in my arms so he could look up at me (presumably with the same idea in mind as Emily – purely to watch the entertainment of me progressively turning red, and struggling to breathe).  Lisa then suggests that I sing to him (she was, in retrospect, obviously messing with me), to settle him down.  So now you have this guy hiking up the rocky gorge of Table Mountain, dripping sweat, winded from the vertical climb, trying to keep one foot in front of the other, hold on to the child and using what spare breath I have to sing a selection of Bob Marley, opera and Andrew Lloyd Webber tunes (I was a big Jesus Christ Superstar fan for a while – you know “what’s the buzz, tell me what’s a happenin’, what’s the buzz tell me what’s a happenin’”, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about).  It actually seemed to pay off.  Alex developed a great perma-grin looking up at me struggling to pull this all off, as did the young couple who had stopped for a break half way up that we passed by – again I am well aware that the couple, Lisa and Alex were not laughing with me, but most definitely at me.  But admittedly, I was having a great time.  It was actually quite funny, and a beautiful climb looking out over the whole of Cape Town and the bay.  After a while I was able to return the boy to the Bjorn (facing in this time), and he fell asleep for the rest of the trip up. And the top was a huge pay off.  The views down the cape were spectacular, and we managed to arrive at the top near sunset, which made it all a postcard.  We took the cable car down.
 
The next day, we met up with the rest of the Scottish contingent that had made their way from Joberg for a beautiful picnic at a vineyard just below the cliffs that extend as part of the same range of Table Mountain.  20 or so of us at a long table with towering Norfolk pines, in a big lawn area that was at the center of four original estate buildings – Dutch architecture from the early 1700’s.  From there we were off to the airport headed for the East coast to the city of Durban.  There was a great episode reminiscent of the Amazing Race, of which I won’t go into too much detail.  Just put in your head 85-90 degrees out, 15 minutes to boarding and not checked in after hitting detour after detour getting to the airport, me dropping off Lisa and Alex to get us checked in, returning the rental car, sprinting with luggage, backpack and baby car seat/stroller through the rental lot, through the parking lot, through the crowded airport and in line to security.  We did make the flight.

Durban is where my dad’s cousin lives – the mother and father of Jenny who got married.  Durban is a nice medium sized town on the coast, known for its nice white sand beaches and warm water (and sharks).  We hung out in Durban at Mary and Duncan’s house with them, my parents and Fiona, Ravi and Tara.  Then my parents volunteered – I say volunteered – to baby sit Alex for three days while Lisa and I took off to a great little game reserve up in the Zululand area 250km north of Durban.  It’s a lesser-known game reserve, but was wonderful.  High hills, all the big animals roaming around (we had a distinct feeling of Jurassic Park the whole time), and we stayed in this great lodge/self catering villa place – the only place you can stay inside the park, perched on top of a high hill overlooking the park (think Rhode Island size), in our own little house.  I should note that Fiona generously let us take the French press which made our mornings worth while waking up for.  Really, it's a big deal to have a good cup of coffee.  Anyway.  We saw, among other things, herds of giraffe, zebra, some elephants, groups of middle aged mustachioed rotundish men in khaki socks, shorts and vests complete with the myriad of pockets ready for the big hunt (which, translated was really driving around in their air conditioned cars looking for animals), and all sorts of deer types, tons of huge birds, rhino, and on the final day a pride of lions kicking back under a huge umbrella tree on a ridge, taking a late morning siesta after gorging on some buffalo (complete with vultures circling overhead).  The other nice thing was the park was not crowded, and you could disappear off the beaten track in your car/suv and feel like you have fallen off the face of civilization.  It also had this great fishing expedition to it, driving around 10-15mph through winding dirt roads up into brushy hill areas and down into river gorges looking for anything that moves in the bush.  I am not kidding when I say it’s actually a hard thing to spot a rhino or an elephant that is only 10 feet away from your car, and at times a little surprising.  You are suddenly painfully aware that you are indeed off the face of civilization in a very un-crowded park with a potentially temperamental long horned rhino 10 feet away from the side of you car – but then of course they are comically blind so there wasn’t too much to worry about. 

Then it was back to Durban for a day to do a little more shopping.  Yet again I got pretty lucky and found a lady that did much the same thing that the guy in Cape Town does – except she plies the eastern coast of Africa as well as Madagascar.  Two good sources to try and get the strange and unusual out of Africa. 

The flight home tuned into a 36 hour ordeal (rather than 20), complete with at times a pissed off baby (which fortunately for us is a rare thing with him when traveling), mechanical problems in Dakar (on the coast of central west Africa), flight delays and missed connections in Atlanta, but we made it home in one piece, and all the better for such a great trip.  Sorry if you weren’t expecting to be put through what amounts to a personal diary of a family vacation.  As I have mentioned before, that’s at least a couple minutes of your life you will never get back.