Wayfaring - A Journey in Latitude and Longitude

Step back in time

2011-07-29T11:25:00.000-07:00

Having seen the techno clubs and the modern cafe culture, we wanted to find a glimpse of older Germany. Frankfurt had been terribly bombed out during WWII and has rebuilt itself beautifully with some stunning skyscrapers and sleek cultural spaces, but has also preserved and rebuilt some of its heritage sites.

Our first stop is Der Romerberg which I translate, albeit poorly, as the home of city government for 600 years. Traditional German architecture surrounds a cobblestone square which, on the day we arrive, is filled with stands and activity as Frankfurt prepares to host an Ironman race. Again new and old blend together.

Sidestep

2011-07-25T20:49:00.000-07:00

blog 2: sidestep
Landing at Frankfurt in the early morning, we deplane onto busses to drive us to the terminal. My least favorite mode of travel - which i blame (loudly and often) on Heathrow airport. But I put on a happy face -- easy to do with Kerry constantly pointing out "ooooh look, it's Germany. Oh wow, that guy is speaking in German! Hee Hee that sign is in German!" The trip to the terminal is actually easy and short. We're funneled into a queue for passport control and then customs and it isn't until we're through to the exit that we realize we never had a chance to talk to a gate agent about a hotel and dinner voucher. This means we must navagate row after row of check-in counters to find the two long United desks. Another extremely helpful desk agent answers all our needs with a smile and provides for our food and lodging for the next day and a half.

The Stiegenberger Hotel is lovely, with a view of the city from afar. We spent both our lunch and dinner voucher for dinner outside in a beautiful courtyard. I had lamb chops which i cooked myself on a super-hot lava stone. With a side of ratatouille and a cold pilsner. Kerry went a bit to the edge with a succulent hare stew pie.

Then it was off to explore the city. The shuttle back to the airport was easy and armed with both a downtown city map and a pocket-map of the u-bahn and s-bahn, we set off to find our way to see what the Manhattan of Europe is like. Finding a train to the downtown main train station was easy. We found a seat and waited. And waited. And waited while watching train after train head off in other directions.

We hopped off at one point to double check that we were on the right train and went back on, our guesses confirmed. finally, when we were nearly ready to give up, the doors close and off we go. It wasn't until the next day that we realized we had missed the "trains to city" sign and had inadvertently gotten on the regional train ending at Frankfurt rather than one of the numerous local trains to the same spot.

Trains are always tricky. You can read the map, ask a guide, read the sign on the front, but you never know until you hit the next stop whether you're actually headed the way you think you are. As we pull into the first stop I think I was mumbling under my breath which stop I expected it to be: "stadium stadium stadium" and sure enough, there it was. I was beaming, so proud of myself. I'm easy to please.

Frankfurt is a bit sleepy on a Thursday evening. The financial district was still and quiet and it wasn't until we got to the theater district that we saw more than a few stragglers.

Following nose, ears, and the pull of curiosity led us down a side street of cafes and shops past shwarma stands, gelato counters, and shoe shops. Turning the corner we see the main train station ahead and a row of buildings lit from below in blue and pink and gold light. Beautiful so we head that direction. Turns out to be Frankfurt's red-light district. We walk through, marveling at storefront after storefront of sex and I wonder aloud at whether it doesn't just make more sense to devote an area to it rather than spread all around.

Frankfurt seems to be pockets of activity amidst a general stillness. And their spirit animal would definitely be the bunny rabbit. We saw several large warrens of bunnies slowly advancing across parks and fields. Nibble nibble hop.

Our night concluded at U60311, a techno club in an abandoned u-bahn station down in concrete box under the street. Smokey air, plenty of pretty, European hipsters, the constant thump of the beats -- this was great.

Setting out July 2011

2011-07-24T07:44:00.000-07:00

I love flying. And international flights are the best. We're sitting here on the tarmac at Frankfurt International, awaiting departure to Johannesburg, South Africa after walking in to find our seats are A) behind a bulkhead so extra legroom B) we're the last row before business class so we're not on the way to the lavatory C) we have a lovely overnight pack with toothbrush, eyemask, etc. D) the wine is a delicious South African merlot.

It is this love of exploration and adventure that forces me to merely nod my head when people awe at how long the flight will be. Flying from JFK to Johannesburg is something like 16 hours and I can hear the horror in people's voices. But inside I'm ecstatic.

It's also this love that brought us to a two-day trip in Frankfurt Germany as a prelude to our adventures in South Africa. When our flight from DC to JFK was delayed for 15 more minutes (the fourth such delay), our first thought was, well where in the world should we go?

We calmly joined the customer service queue while simultaneously calling United's 800-number. We got to the front and explained that we were part of the United 14 - a name I had dubbed for the 14 passengers delayed in Washington-Dulles airport and therefore missing our connection to Johannesburg. Our agent, an energetic blonde South African woman appeared to be leading the charge and calling out a myriad of possible re-routes to the other agents on the same quest. She proposed Doha, Bahrain, London, Frankfurt. "Doha! Oh I love that airport!", "Ooooh Bahrain would be new!", "Oh god not Heathrow!!", "Frankfurt! We could go there!". In the end Germany won out. We took 2 of the last 3 seats and quietly moved away from the line while a angry throng of other passengers moved in. Thus ended my hopes of filming a TV show about our group's trials and growth as we try to make our way to Africa.

christmas travel December 2008

2008-12-25T05:11:00.000-08:00

Wow, I'm back!

I was recently inspired by the travelblog of a friend of a friend. It reminded me that I had intended to continue my blog after my return stateside. But as often happens I let life take over and I never continued.

I am currently in the air en route to Boston to see Julie's family for Christmas. It wasn't until we were on the plane that I realized this was my first flight since coming back from Senegal in May. How does that happen?

So anyway, it's good to be back in the blogosphere. How have you been?

Winter travel in December 2008 has been interesting to say the least. Our goal was to leave on a red-eye out of Seattle Friday night, transfer in Dallas (DFW) to a Boston bound flight arriving Saturday afternoon. We checked in online as I ran a few final errands (shipping a box to my folks, buying a halibut steak to bring the Keenans, etc.). Now first you have to realize that this was not standard Seattle. Our house was under 6-inches of snow and the city was reeling in winter-storm paralysis.

I know, all of you mid-westerners are saying: "6-inches is nothing! Seattlites are just wimps." But you have to recognize that the city of seattle only owns 15 snowplows, rarely salts, and is a city of hills. Steep hills! I had my chains on and I know how to drive in it thanks to my parents taking me out to a parking lot knee deep in snow and making me practice (thanks mom & dad!). Even in sunny conditions Seattle drivers are world-wide some of the worst so you can bet I was worried about how they would handle the snow.

For example some of you may have seen Seattle prominently displayed in the news due to two charter busses that were not to be deterred by the closure of an arterial route and decided to brave a back street which descended the same hill. They both lost traction and careened down hill, crashed through a retaining wall, and coming to a halt dangling 30 feet above I-5. Yikes!

So what should've been an hour of errands became a three-hour tour of the city.

But we were finally ready and after an uneventful trip to the airport (thanks Nick!) We were happy to see that the lines were short and hopeful for some easy travel.

Alas it was not to be.

The self-checkin kiosk spit out an enigmatic note telling me it couldn't help me and told me to see an agent. I appreciate that our machines still refer us to people when they can't solve something. For now at least they recognize our superiority in some things.

The agent helping us informed us briskly that the flight from DFW to Boston had been cancelled. Now Julie and I were a bit surprised by this news since the snowfall in Boston, though severe, was forecast to end by 3am. We couldn't imagine that Boston couldn't clear their runways in time for us to land at 11:25am. It seemed a bit silly to cancel a flight so early.

But we quickly transitioned into problem-solving mode. We hashed out a myriad of possible solutions: flying into Providence, Manchester, even LaGuardia; delaying in Seattle for a direct Boston flight; splitting up on different flights, etc.

Finally after it seemed as though our agent wasn't going to be able to be very helpful, his eyes lit up and he ran off to a nearby desk phone. After another ten minutes, he came back smiling having secured us ticketed seats to Dallas, then Chicago, then Boston.

As further evidence of how out of practice I am with regards to air travel, I put my bag into the x-ray and only then remembered my liquids which were still lodged in the bag. Then the TSA agent pulled our other bag aside to take a look. I figured it was the ice we had on the fish we were bringing, but instead she focussed on a box of perfumes/lotions that we were re-gifting from last year. We'd never really even opened it. The TSA agent lifted the top, took a look and said, oh yeah that's ok, only 3 ounces. We were later to see that it was more like 8 oz. So our luck seemed good so far.

The flight was uneventful and we collapsed onto the first stretch of clear floor in Dallas upon arrival.

I had some amazing dreams involving my entire extended family hanging out at my house and then woke up like a shot. We made a quick decision to forgo breakfast in favor of trying to fly standby on an earlier Chicago flight.

We found a flight and made our way to the gate. About twenty minutes before boarding time the flight was suddenly cancelled! At least we still had our other flight ticketed.

We boarded without issue and more or less on time, but didn't push back from the jetway. Eventually the pilot came on and said we were waiting for the catering to be loaded. I think I dozed off at this time and woke to a jarring sensation, saw a gate and figured I'd missed the whole flight. Welcome to Chicago!

Alas, I had merely slept through the hour it took to load the catering supplies and we were only now leaving DFW. It was an uneventful flight, but we missed our Boston connection by half an hour.

Here is where things started to break down. We tried to divide and conquer to beat the airlines system of inefficiency. You see they wear you down with their lines and their sleep deprevation, making you docile. By splitting up we double our odds of getting through the system of pitfalls.

I was successful at getting to the front of my line first but at that moment, the agents switched gears into boarding a plane, stranding me on deck. Finally, Julie called me (how did we ever survive without cell phones?) as she got to the front of her line. Unfortuneately the agent she spoke to was unable or unwilling to be useful and deflected us over and over. Finally, we were forced into the 'rebooking center'. This is a long line (150 people) being served by 2 agents. Lovely.

Over the next 90 minutes we slowly advanced in line. Meanwhile, Julie was able to get us ticket the next morning to Boston with a layover in Washington D.C.'s Reagan Airport (again thanks to the cell phone).

At the front of the line we met Eugenia, an American Airlines agent who became our savior. She was able to get us a direct boston flight for the next afternoon, gave us a hotel stay with very little trouble(thankfully our most recent delay was not weather related, just catering related), and a voucher for breakfast and lunch. Yay!

So we departed directly for the hotel where we were met with a hot shower and a comfortable bed. Northern Illinois winters are just as biting cold as always.

The remainder of our travel was more straightforward. We were not able to get through the second security check with our illicit 8oz of lotion, but we made it to Boston, found our luggage waiting, and spent the night with Julie's brother, Pete before heading out to Sutton.

Thus begins my campaign to move Christmas to September or June or some other more civilized time of the year. Maybe it isn't that bad in Israel right now but in North America, December is a terrible time for travel.

Don't worry, it's only a three-hour tour...

2008-04-27T12:26:00.000-07:00

Julie and I dutifully woke this morning, went for breakfast, came back and packed up all of our things. We loaded everything up on our backs, went down stairs and said au revoir to the women in reception. They said with some surprise, "Oh, you're leaving today?"

So we walked the three blocks to the ferry and started to walk into the departure hall. The security guy comes up and says "Excuse me, the boat leaves tomorrow?"

Huh? I look at my watch and it says the 27th, I ask Julie and hers says the 26th but her watch doesn't run on a 24h clock or have am/pm so I rarely trust her for the date.

We start to pull out our ticket to see why the gigantic ferry we expected to board is not leaving until the next day; and the security guy just points to the ticket stand, indicating we should talk to them.

We walk in and it is no wonder sometimes that the African's think the tourists are dumb. We ask things like "is it Sunday?", "Is it the 27th?", "Is the boat not leaving today?". It is this last question which elicits a useful response, a deadpan "No it will leave tomorrow".

Dumbfounded, we look at the ticket again and point to the date. Again, with a nonplussed air, the woman at the window says "Yes, it has changed". No explaination. Certainly no signage or anything to indicate why the 1500 passengers and cargo will be a day late. But what still shocks me, is that it appeared to be the absolute most normal thing in the world. No one raised an eyebrow and it seems like everyone else in town knew it wouldn't go today - maybe even expected it.

We checked back into our hotel and it was as if we were expected. The cook in our hotel just smiled and said, in English, "ahh, it is just the African way". Honestly your guess is as good as mine as to what is going on.

more busses

2008-04-27T12:24:00.000-07:00

We are back up in Zignuichor after staying a few days in the stunning beauty of Cap Skirring. Zignuichor is a cute little town where we 'run the gauntlet of art' every time we leave the hotel but where, honestly, we have met some nice people that want to show us their wares or tell us about their pirogue for hire, but are content when we say we aren't interested right now.

It took about 4 hours to go the 90 km because I tried to save us a few dollars taking the minibus instead of the sept-place taxi. Though Julie agrees that the bus was more comfortable. That was before it stopped half way and sat for two hours waiting to fill up...

Almost all transit runs betwen 90% and 180% capacity all the time. They are not on schedules so much as they leave when full. This can range from a few minutes to possibly days. A sept-place taxi is a battered renault station wagon with seven seats. They are rusty, cramped, and falling apart. But appear almost new comparred to the minibusses (ancient panel vans converted to transit use with seats for about 16 and a roof rack for everything from lumber, produce, and charcoal to live goats and chickens). On our bus, the side doors were welded shut, the driver and passenger doors were tied on with string, and the back door was hanging open the whole time.

Four guys pushed us out and the driver popped the clutch to start. We immediately pull into a gas station to fill up continuing my unbroken streak of filling up the tank once all of the passengers are in. This was the first time, however, where the driver didn't turn off the engine while filling - though he did wait until we were on our way to light his cigarette.

But we made it safe and sound. And checked into the cheap hotel across the street from the nice hotel. They share one kitchen and restaurant (in our place) so the food is good (though we do have a couple of cockroach friends in the bathroom). ugh.

Our room, though at first glance appearing much like a minimum security prison cell, is actually quite lovely. Huge and with a pretty good breeze, it has, what I have proclaimed to be, "the best shower in all Africa".

So in general the bathroom in Africa is just considered a wet environment - like the bottom of a pool. There are never shower curtains and often the 'shower' is just a nozzle - the water runs across the bathroom floor into the nearest floor drain (which one hopes is at the low spot). In fact, in Morocco, one had to stand ON the squat-on-the-floor toilet to bathe. But we do have toilet paper and OOOOOOooohhh cloth towels.

My favourite Julie quotes so far this week:
•  In regard to maneuvering the ferry from it's berth in Dakar (7 guys, throwing ropes, yelling instructions at each other as though the boat didn't make twice weekly trips...): "The whole continent could use a kaizen"
•  In regard to my bottle of cheap whiskey: "That's a lot of drunk, for $3"
•  In regard to what going to bed with wet hair had done to my hair: "It's sort of a George Fawcett. The left says George Washington, the right, Farrah Fawcett."

exciting welcome

2008-04-24T08:11:00.001-07:00

So Julie is here now. I think she was just barely starting to get annoyed with my instinct to protect her. I had given her lots of warnings about this and that and she said something like, "don't worry, I'm a smart girl". But it isn't about smart, it is about being ready for that which you would not believe.

The following is the literal, unembellished truth of what happened on our walk today. If I weren't there personally, I wouldn't have believed it.

We took a taxi to Dakar this morning. It was about 12:30 on Tuesday afternoon. We were walking near the port with our backpacks on. We walked past a busy market section and onto a stretch that was less crowded - certainly not empty - at least 30 people in view and within a block or two. One of the numerous vendors came up with a T-shirt to sell. I replied 'non, merci' and kept walking. He kept pace, sort of holding the shirt out in front of me.

His friend was on my other side and i sort of ignored him as he waasn't specifically annoying me and i was sure i didn't want whatever he sold. (See where this is going yet?)

Then T-shirt guy sort of srepped between Julie and I and held the shirt up to show how well it would fit. And as I turned to tell him to back off, the friend was down and grabbing the side pocket of my pants. He was reaching inside in an attempted robbery in broad daylight on a busy street!

But i have good reflexes and a couple of wrestling moves left in me and i had his arm in an instant. The first guy fled as I twisted the arm and spun my assailant around with his back to the fence, my hand on his wrist, holding it up to his chest. I'm not a big guy but he was 5'3" and probably 110 pounds. And I was pissed! Besides, Julie had mirrored my movement and looked absolutely ready to punch the guy if need be.

And before you lecture me on 'he could've had a knife' or whatever - the crime here is 99.9% crimes of opportunity (grab and go crime). There are almost no guns here and violent crime is extremely rare.

He was being apologetic stuttering, "No, no problem!" To which I yelled, "I have a problem! Do I need to call the police?" He squirmed more and I let his arm go. Welcome to Dakar!

Lessons learned:

*

Don't let anyone in between us - no divide and conquer
*

Don't get surrounded - keep them on one side or the other - preferably with an escape route
*

If some has 6 t-shirts they may be selling them; if they have one shirt, be even more cautious

Do I think that having Julie here makes us a target - that we will be in constant danger at every turn? No, I think this was a random incidence of two guys pulling one of Dakar's classic scams.

And it isn't as though I keep anything of value in such a vulnerable pocket!

All I had to do was WANT it...

2008-04-20T15:27:00.000-07:00

Ok THAT was AWESOME!

No sooner had I posted the last two blogs (talking about needing to open myself to conversing in French) than it happened. Ask, and apparently, you shall receive!

So i'm standing out on the street using some free wifi and these two guys walk up and ask whether I am Muslim. Now this isn't as random a question as it may seem. I'm cultivating this beard, at least in part, to explore what it looks like inside those rooms in the airport where they "question" you. With my new tan and a beard like this one guy in Morocco asked Sevtap if I was Pakistani.

I replied that I was not [Muslim] and after their surprise (either at my answer or at my American accent) wore off I got the conversion speech. I've had this talk in Buddhism, Christianity (various denominations), and now Islam. Apparently you have to sort of seek out Judaism as it doesn't come to you.

The two I met, Muhammed and [oops, i forgot his name] are Moroccan and visiting Senegal probably as missionaries. They speak Arabic and a smattering of French. We were almost immediately joined by a Senegalese woman, Asla, who spoke Wolof, French, and a smattering of English. She was also Muslima and saw the three of us standing there, thought it might be a good place to ask for some help paying her son's school fees. I speak English and a smattering of French and a phrase or two in Arabic so our conversation was fantastic: all of us signing to each other, drawing in the sand, appealing to one another to translate. And the guys' French was not great, which means it was slow and pronounced enough that I could understand.

So here is something I've learned on this trip: you know that stereotype of the insensitive American who just speaks LOUDER and sloooower to people thinking that will suddenly make them understand English? Well, in many ways, it is true. All I want is for someone to speak French slowly and clearly and I suddenly can follow along. So now I try to indicate that I am deaf and could they just speak up please. It really helps immensely.

So I'm all set for Julie including getting change so that I have bills in exactly what I intend to pay for a taxi. It helps me to use the "I only have un mille Franc" technique.

In fact, I've talked about the various scams or 'progressive price structures' used here, but I haven't talked about my countermeasures. Let's call them 'financial strategies'.

1. If at all possible don't ask for change. It opens you up to the "I don't have any change" or the "let me take 25 minutes to make change so you'll just give up" counter-countermeasures.

2.Always inquire about the price. Prices aren't listed on many items because they cost the same everywhere and the locals just hand over the money. If you don't ask, you have a hard time arguing when they want $4 for that tea you already drank. That one happened, though not to me.

3. I enter most stores and immediately say "Salaam Aleikum". I don't know that this gets me some amazing discount, but I think it does help ensure honesty where someone is riding the fence on whether to be just a bit scant in measuring a kilo. If I knew the Wolof for "Hello" I might use that instead. The trick is to appear as though you've been here long enough to know when you're getting ripped off. I mean how AM i supposed to know if bananas as 400F/kg or 100F/kg?

4. My most common negotiation is "1000!?!?! That guy [point in random direction] was going to sell it to me for 800. Are you telling me you can't sell it for 750?"

5. Always be ready to walk away. If you are sold, they know you are sold. I got a screaming good deal on a taxi by threatening to walk. And I would've. The trick is to actually be ready to follow through on any bluff you make.

6. Always hang out looking expectant for just a bit longer than you should. That way if they are pulling the "maybe he doesn't know that he gets change back" method, it fails. This one is so common. You give them a 500F coin and he gives you 100F back and moves on to the next customer or an interesting spot on the wall or something, until you say "change" or stare long enough and he gives you the other 80F you are owed.

Ahhh, I may actually miss the thrill of purchase when I get back home to boring ol' fixed prices...

Waiting for Ahmad: Act II

2008-04-20T12:37:00.000-07:00

[thanks to those of you whose emails and IMs are the basis for much of the following conversation]

Act II: too dull? Too weird?

CAST:
John: The nightwatchman
Symon: The british owner of a backpacker lodge on an island in Lake Malawi, Africa. Nearly bald, and having shaved off the rest, he is ruddy and jovial, with a cockney Cambridge accent. Typically wearing cargo shorts and sandals and a beaded necklace of shells with a wooden amulet in the shape of the African Continent.
Dobbie, Chiquita, Askari, and Cotella: The lodge dogs.
Dawn: A Danish tourist, mid-twenties, shy and stoic
Jakob: A Danish tourist, mid-twenties, athletic. Dawn's boyfriend. He has just completed a 6-month internship with the danish consul in Zambia and is on holiday before returning home.
Sylvia and Catrine: mid-40s British couple on holiday
Henry: Manager of the lodge
Joshua: Same as act one but with longer hair and beard. A fair bit more tan and a bit of a wild look in his eyes.
Various villagers: men with umbrellas; women with bundles on their heads and infants strung on their backs; children pulling carts. The women wear brightly-colored wraps.

Scene I: [The Wakky Bar, an African resort tiki bar. Night-time. The huge bar curves around the base of a gigantic hollow baobab tree. The decor is typical of Malawi tourist lodges: whimsical wood figurines, oversized wooden mask smiling down, a few sparse strings of lights, woven bamboo screens all lit by faint colored bulbs and two parafin lanterns.

In front of the bar is a large treasure chest and two benches. Under one bench lies Dobbie, a large black rottweiler mix and on the other is John, the night watchman, asleep.

Off stage left are faint crowd noises and the tinny sound of Bob Marley on a radio. Off stage right is the sudden sound of a ship's horn.]

John [startled awake]: AAaaahh! [calling off stage R as he gathers himself up and then exits stage R] Sam! Sam! Boat, Sam! [off stage R] Sam! Ferry! Sam!

[a distant crash is heard, various muttering and cursing, another crash]

Symon [from offstage R]: Wha? Wha? Raight then. Wha?

[The sounds of a boat unloading come from off stage right, motor boats, yells in chichewa from the crew, creaking ropes, then a splash and yells]

[Symon enters from stage R followed by Jakob and Dawn, followed by Catrine, soaking wet, followed by Sylvia. Henry and the three remaining dogs enter from stage L]

Symon: Right this way, we'll get you into rooms.
Syliva: Oh dear, oh dear are you alright?
Catrine: Yes, yes, I'm quite fine.

[Symon works his way behind the bar and the guests crowd around. Simon begins to open the bar by retrieving the liquor bottles from a locked cabinet and setting them up on the bar, wiping down the bar, setting out bar towels. Almost immediately, Henry starts to close down the bar, putting away the liquor, folding the towels, wiping down the bar. They neither notice nor acknowledge each other]

Symon: So here is a list of the available rooms. We've got the round hut back there, the three bamboo huts, the family lodge, and the dorms - there is one guest, an American [lightning flashes], there already.

[lightning flashes, thunder roars and rain suddenly pours down outside.]

Symon: [to Catrine] well it looks like we're all going to get wet tonight.
[at this 6 wires drop down and the six clip in to hidden harnesses. They are lifted into the air and continue the scene floating as though nothing had changed - Symon still setting out the bar, Henry still clearing up. Each character appears to 'swim' around stage]

Catrine: Yes, well at least the lake was warm.
Symon: So who wants a drink? [at this, un-noticed by all, the lid to the treasure chest lifts and three blue helium baloons escape, the lid falls] The name is Symon, and if you need anything just ask.

Jacob: Jacob [shaking hands with Symon], and this is my girlfriend Grueue.
All: What?
Dawn: Don't worry, it is very difficult to pronounce but it means 'dawn', so you can call me that.

[at this, un-noticed by all, the lid to the treasure chest lifts again and three blue helium baloons escape, the lid falls]

Syvia: Sylvia
Catrine: Catrine
Symon: [to Catrine] Sorry again about your swim.

[at this, un-noticed by all, the lid to the treasure chest lifts and Joshua steps out wearing a deep-sea diver outfit, the lid falls]
...
[The group forms a school behind Symon and moves in unison turning together]

Symon [leading them off stage R]: Well, follow me and I'll show you to your rooms. [upon reaching the edge of the stage] Hmm, no, must be this way [now leading to stage L] As I say, it's right this way [upon reaching the edge of the stage] Well that isn't the right way [now leading them to stage R] We must be getting close now... [continue back and forth until ... blackout]

--------

Scene II: [The Wakky Bar, mid-afternoon. An ancient walkman plays cassettes. The dying battery causes the song to warble off key, shifting the singer's voice from a Dolly Parton to a Johnny Cash while the music becomes a warbled slide guitar.

In this scene, Josh, Jakob, and Dawn are having a conversation at the benches which are positioned stage L; Symon, Catrine, and Sylvia are having a separate conversation at the bar upstage R. There is a somewhat steady stream of islanders walking up and down just off the front of the stage. Initially it is an individual or two. Then they travel in groups of men, of women, and of children. As the scene progresses, they become more and more a parade - more rowdy and spectacular. The men's umbrellas become more elaborate, the women's bundles become humongous; the children's carts become parade floats. The men and women keep to themselves but the children engage the stage constantly, yelling "Hellohellohellohellohello" and "Hellohowareyoui'mfine HellohowareyouI'mfine" and "give me pic-ture" as they cross. Finally, the villagers crossing stop exiting and form a crowd off the front house-left. Drums and other intruments are produced and they begin singing and dancing. By the end of the scene, the music drowns out the conversations and continues without acknowledging the final 'magic trick' until its conclusion.]

Josh: ... almost everyday I really need to take a break and walk away for a while and remember how I saw the good side of people.

Dawn: Wow. really?

Josh: Probably not that often, but it IS hard coming to a part of the world where I am the utter minority racially yet still in the position of power and authority. It is amazing how much power there is in being white.

Jakob: Yeah it is actually easier to see here than at home.

Josh: For sure! It is a nonstop adventure in learning.

Dawn: hmmm - interesting. Can you give me an anecdote?

Josh: For example: go to a health clinic and you see locals who have waited in line for hours. The white tourist would be in and out in 5 mintes

Dawn: Oh. That IS hard.

Jakob: And there is STILL this idea that the white people are the thinkers and planners. Automatically. It's weird...

Dawn: Wow - how is it possible to change that?

Josh: ...But what really makes it hard is that the educational system here actually doesn't teach big picture views. The people in general don't develop good problem solving and critical thinking skills so it IS the white people who do the planning and thinking. A cycle of continued repression.

Jakob: And of course the poverty feeds into it because there is such a lack of resources that big picture things suffer automatically. When you need 15 cents to survive, you aren't thinking about how to spend your extra capital to create a sustainable means of survival, you are trying to make it through the day.

Dawn: Exactly

Josh: So western tourists are, of course, seen as a ready source of cash and it is hard to have mutually beneficial relationships. So i have to remind myself of the reasons and the environment and realize the true cause and react accordingly, not overreact or let my offense get overblown

Jakob: Yes, I have learned a lot on my trip about how to relate to people. And to take a critical view of my actions and how they are seen and how they affect people.

Dawn: What you have control over and what you don't and what they have control over and what they don't.

Josh: Well put. As solutions go it is a more difficult question. I do think that the solution is 3-sided: open media, education, and a complete revamping of foreign aid programs.

Dawn: Do you get a sense that they have burned so bad in the past by others that they have trouble trusting you?

Josh: There is a mutual distrust and a mutual feeling that we don't want to be distrustful.

Jakob: I think that there are the scam artists - probably 70% of the people that come to talk to me on their own accord - and they are not burned by the tourists, they instead feed off the tourists...

Dawn: yeah - I think you learn how to take advantage of what's there

Jakob: ... and then there is the other 99% of the population who are more honest and they have more distrust of foreigners...

Josh: ..but they have less interaction with us because they don't seek me out and my relations to them are short and professional. Though, there you do see a lot of trust sometimes.

Dawn: Like when you are on a crowded minibus and some woman hands you her infant so she can climb in.

Jakob: Yes, when it comes to family, it seems as though we are all brothers and sisters - locals and mazunga alike.

Dawn: Do you see a difference between city and country?

Josh: Only slightly but that is partially because the rural areas i go to have been the touristy areas so they have the same issue as the cities. I guess that the rural areas that i've been to that are not touristy are quite welcoming and generally nicer.

[Here Symon, Catrine, and Sylvia silently get up and slowly build a huge wooden box - mirrored on the inside - around the other three while the conversation continues. They perform much like magician assistants, demonstrating silently that the sides are solid and flamboyantly showing off the finished product. When finished they exit the stage and the conversation finishes via microphone]

Dawn: If you were to do this again what would you do differently?

Josh: I'm coming to the point where i really want to travel where i know people and can have local support. In africa, europe, asia, america, everywhere. Because when i get local support my experience is 1000 times better.

Dawn: Yeah I definitely get that feeling from my limited travels. I felt so guilty when I was in Jamaica where I didn't know anyone

Josh: Oh tell me about it! When you end up being one of THOSE tourists because you can't avoid it.

Dawn: I didn't develop any relationships and they didn't see the real me

Josh: That was tunisia for me. Awful. I wanted to say "wait! I'm not like those french tourists. Trust me!"

[at this point the 'box' falls apart like in a magic show, and it's former occupants have disappeared!]

[villagers 'ooooh' and 'ahhh' appreciatively ... blackout]

The french! and friends.

2008-04-20T12:33:00.000-07:00

So again I find myself in a Francophone country and again I find that I have a somewhat difficult time enjoying myself. Morocco was different as I was travelling with Sevtap, who speaks excellent French and moderate Arabic, but Tunisia and Senegal both leave me feeling somewhat alone and anxious. In Tunisia, I honestly think that the tourist economy created an atmosphere of deeper distrust than would ever allow me to feel included in the local scene. But Senegal, I must admit, is probably limited most by my own fear.

I find it difficult to really put myself out there as much because I have such trouble with the language.

Ok, a short aside: 175 in French is cent-soixante-quinze. Literally hundred-sixty-fifteen. And 195 is cent-quatre-vingt-quinze, literally hundred-four twenties-fifteen. No wonder I have such trouble with French numbers!!! Ugh.

So anyway I am holding back a bit and I need to stop. Sure I could wait for Julie (who speaks much more French than I do) but that seems a bit lazy. I just have to make an effort myself. All of the conversations I have had here have been just fine. A perfectly acceptable level of misunderstanding, sign language, embarrasment, and when all else fails consulting my pocket dictionary - nothing I can't handle. But I still find myself being shy.

I did manage to take the local bus into Dakar yesterday and when it was obvious that I couldn't understand the conductor, my neighbor spoke up and translated. Very nice. I have found the people here to be not overly welcoming but also not overly demanding for me to come look at their art. It is a pleasant level of people being friendly without being overly involved.

Dakar is DRY and HOT. The few trees that exist look as though they haven't seen water in years. And every surface (including me) is covered by the red sand and dust.

I have settled in to the Yoff-Layenne suburb north of Dakar and quite enjoy my little neighborhood of twisting sand alleyways filled with children playing soccer and stands selling little baguette sandwiches. It is, once again, a predominantly muslim area and I find that 'Salaam Aleikum' is the most common greeting and am again roused in the morning by the call to prayer.

I am eagerly awaiting Julie's arrival tomorrow morning. "Tomorrow," you ask, "I thought she arrived tonight?" Well yes, but Iberia Air seems to have cancelled her ticket without telling her. She arrived at the airport only to find that no seat awaited her. So she got to purchase a day-of ticket at the airport kiosk. She is now on her way a mere 14 hours behind schedule - a frustrating beginning to her travels but no real problem. So I have one more evening by myself.

This is the last evening of my solo travels so let me review a bit:

I set out on this adventure with a few goals and anti-goals:

The big 4 anti-goals are:
•  No African hospitals
•  No African jails
•  No abduction or involvement in international "incidents"
•  No getting eaten by lions (or by anything really)

So far so good.

But there were other goals as well:
•  Attempt to be part of the local scene as opposed to the tourist scene as much as possible
•  Take time to write (blogs, journals, novels, poetry, random thoughts, plays, etc)
•  Follow my instincts as I push myself out of my comfort zone
•  Eat great food that I can't find at home
•  See and experience things that I can't find at home
•  Meet people that I wouldn't meet at home
•  Hear and see lots of African music

I've done very well here as well.

And I had some accomplishments that I hadn't anticipated:
The biggest of which was meeting travellers with whom I hope to keep in touch. I have a number of new friends in Scandinavia, the UK, and Canada (Jakob, Gry, Richard, Symon, Sarah, Kristine, Lesley, Mattieu). I also have a few people in Tanzania and Malawi with whom I hope to stay in touch (Leonard and Mack).

And I am positive that I will continue to be close to my friend, Sevtap. I never would've imagined that I would meet someone on my travels who would then join me in another country a few months later.

So the looming end of my travels is a confusing moment in my mind. I am sad to leave this behind. Sad to leave Africa; sad to leave this experience. But also excited and happy. I am thrilled to get back to my house and to Julie. I want to see all of my friends from home - people I miss all the time. And I am happy to have some time to incorporate the lessons I've learned into my life there without the need to constantly learn anew.

I am looking forward to using a dishwasher and a washing machine (and having more than two shirts). I am excited for consistently fast internet connectivity and knowing where to buy toothpaste.

But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. I still have 12 days of travel to report. So stay tuned!

Linguistic stumbling

2008-04-18T01:19:00.000-07:00

So my French pronounciation is terrible. So even when i can conjugate my verbs I mis-speak and it all comes out like an infinitive and I don't really know which preposition is which so i pretty much had the following conversation tonight:

Guy in the Royal Air Maroc Office) Good evening.
Josh) Good evening. I to search at Mr Hamid.
G) He isn't here now. He will be in at 1am.
J) In one hour? Ok. I to return.
[one hour elapses]
J) Good evening
G) Good evening.
J) I to search for Mr Hamid
G) He still isn't here. He'll be in at one in the morning.
J) Hmm. I to lose the notebook at the plane here. [show ticket stub]
G) When is your flight?
J) Here on 15 April
G) No when is your next flight.
J) on 3 May.
G) Then where is the problem?
J) I to lose the notebook at the plane.
G) I see. [retrieves notebook]

I could've kissed him when i saw it. I am overjoyed. I have three months of scribblings and scrawlings and the email addresses of probaly 100 people I met on my travels. Phew!

Life is good. I also found a hotel for half the price of the other hotel. And with better internet. And closer to the beach. And with friendly staff that showed me how to take the bus as opposed to expensive taxis.

I intend to stay here until Julie arrives - which is in 70 hours!

Adventures in learning lessons, the hard way

2008-04-16T08:17:00.000-07:00

Morocco came and went as though in the blink of an eye. It is a truly amazing land. I am sorry to you, my readers, but I am unable to give an apt description. Not because i had my eyes closed - in fact I hardly slept all week - but because my superlatives just don't really do it justice. Not only do I love Morocco, but I feel as though it loves me back. It was easy and convenient. I managed on public transit and local food. It had a beautiful blend of culture from Arab, Berber, Europe, and Africa. The atlas mountains are stunning. With SNOW! And you can see them from the desert. The coast is beautiful and the little villages are pink (salmon or coral is probably more correct) and ochre and climb up from the sea among hills covered in scrub bushes and sparse grasses nibbled by the sheep.

My only regret is not filling my water bottle to the brim with tasty orange juice when I left.

So I travelled from Marrakech to Dakar, Senegal with a five-hour layover in Casablanca. Here things took a turn for the worse. Basically in two hours I had spent $49 (about 3 days worth of money for Morocco or 5 in Egypt). This included $10 for two taxi rides totalling about 3km!! ugh.

But worse was that I realized I had left my notebook on the plane. This is the notebook that has my everything right now. Notes and ideas; contact info for everyone I met on my travels; journal thoughts. And I had done so well at not losing things on this trip.

Then i wound up in an insanely expensive hotel (trapped by the need to sleep and the lack of available cheaper lodging. And in room 13 - just my luck...

I had a couple of other stresses pile up on me all at once and am extremely thankful to my friends and family who helped me get through it. One of my friends reminded me about something she heard: "So let me take a moment to remind myself for yet another time, that the journey IS the destination. The travel is the point." It really helped to center me and remind me that even the challenges are experiences to be lived. I stay present and I persevere.

Morocco!!

2008-04-11T08:53:00.000-07:00

I have travelled to Morocco and am now in some tiny village on the Atlantic coast north of Agadir. I say "some town" because we took a bus until some guy said "This is a good village. You should stay here." I say "we" because, for the first time on this quest, I have a travelling companion: my friend, Sevtap. You may remember her as the "fascinating" German of Turkish descent - she would describe herself as Turkish from Germany - who I met in Egypt. She has agreed to join me here in the kingdom of Morocco for a bit.

The Morocco adventure began in Marrakech - an exhilarating introduction to the country. The central square, Djemaa el-Fna, is described as the greatest souq in southern Morocco and it does not disappoint. There are snake charmers here with meter-long cobras! Seriously. Awesome. And the fresh-squeezed orange juice is probably the best bargain in the entire continent: 15¢ for a BIG glass. There are people everywhere; bright colors; drumming, clanging, ringing, yelling; the smell of oranges, cinnamon, coffee, and exhaust from scooters as they race through tthe throng and brush your sleeve.

To secure onward passage on a bus took a half-hour, two languages, ten people, and a lot of patience. And even then the bus arrived at the station almost an hour late. Luckily it was only a four-hour ride (though it felt like an uncomfortable eternity).

On the bus, we befriended a Moroccan guy named Medhi. He was traveling to a beach-side village in the general area we were and invited us to join him at his friend's house.

The 'house' wound up being what can only honestly be described as a shack on the beach with somewhere between 5 and 8 other guys (people kept coming and going and I couldn't keep track). It was an awesome yet challenging experience which did, however, ultimately lead us off the beaten track to a lovely little beach village.

After a day with Mehdi and friends we felt our welcome waning and elected to move on to the next village where I actually found a place with a kitchen.

Some of you know that the day I left for Africa I was putting in the last few nails in my kitchen remodel project (3540remodel.blogspot.com). Seriously, stayed up most of the night putting in the last bit of flooring and then put in the thresholds in the morning. Julie drove me to the airport at lunchtime.

So after months of effort I finally had the kitchen of my dreams and I wasn't there to use it - a fact that is driven home everytime I walk through the vegetable markets and wish that I were buying my dinner. Sure I eat oranges and avocados and olives and dates and bananas and mangos. But lentils and maize and eggplant and zucchini and bags and bags of spices make me want to cook!

So kitchen in the context of my place in Morocco means that there is a propane tank with a burner on top and a sink, three spoons, a teapot, five glasses, one pot, two saucers and a bowl. When I first spied it, I was overjoyed! No more or less than if it had been a professional kitchen with a prep sink and a five-burner gas range with double oven and a warming tray. It took every bit of self-control for me to keep a straight face as I negotiated the price.

So on to dinner. We set out tonight with a goal. Sevtap made a point that when tourists come into a village, ask the price of something and the shopkeeper says a price 50% high and the tourist just agrees that it encourages the idea that money doesn't matter to us. The locals certainly never load up their shopping bag before asking the price and throwing a small fit if the price is 1 dirham too high. She also has some interesting thoughts on "baksheesh" (tipping) but that is for another day. So we set out to really do some comparison shopping and to play as though we were locals and in the process see if we can't dispell a misconception or two.

Really, why don't we do this at home? Convenience plays a part in it. My time at home is too valuable to go to three shops to save a few pennies. But I am amazed sometimes at the amount of money that we are willing to pay for things. $4 for coffee?! Or more!! I mean it is 98% hot water with ground-up cooked seeds floating in it.

It is always a challenge when entering a new country to figure out what things cost. Currency changes, climatic availability, tarifs, and the cost of labor and transit all make a difference. So this comparison shopping is something I may do in each new country from now on.

It was also quite enjoyable and fulfilling to go to four different stands asking the price of everything and then to retrace our steps getting the best price per quality. And even to say "onions were 1 dirham cheaper per kg at the other place, let's go back there". Prices are given per kilogram and weighed on a balance against standardized metal weights.

So one dirham is about $0.12 and is abbreviated Dh.
(1) 7-inch round loaf of bread = 1Dh
(1 kg) onions = 3Dh
(1kg) tomatos = 5Dh
(1kg) yogurt = 2Dh
(1kg) bananas = 5Dh
(1/2 liter) olive oil = 20Dh

Not nearly as cheap as Egypt but much better than even the local restaurants. And the tourist places? One of the tourist cafes wanted 8Dh for a coca-cola!

Two by Two

2008-04-02T23:18:00.000-07:00

Wow. Now THAT is a rainstorm. I'm sitting in my hotel room in Stonetown on the island of Unguja in the Zanzibar archipelego listening to the single heaviest downpour of rain I've ever heard. The abundance of metal roofing amplifies the effect but seriously, the sheer volume of water coming down is unreal. Stonetown is a chaotic series of twisting alleyways on a triangular penninsula on the west side of the island. It is sometimes called the 'venice of africa' and today that comparison became more apt as the roads became canals. The roads here are too narrow for cars so it is scooters which take the place of gondolas, passing swiftly by - leaving soaked pedestrians in their wake.

I'm glad to be away from the beaches. Here in town I am very happy again, though I am still spending too much money.

I had spent the previous eleven weeks studiously avoiding the purchase of souveniers. My bag is heavy enough as it is and fairly tightly packed. But tomorrow I leave East Africa (destination Morocco) and who knows when I will return so today the floodgates opened. I went a little crazy buying crafts and mementos. I really have no idea how I will manage to zip (or carry) my bag.

The deluge has awakened the most agressive and fierce mosquitoes that I have yet faced. They are undeterred by the premethrin-impregnated clothing I wear and managed to bite right through!

Zanzibar. How to describe this place. It took me a distressingly long time to realize that the name 'Tanzania' is the conglomeration of 'Tanganyika' (the former mainland) and 'zanzibar' (the offshore islands). The two areas run as quazi-independent nations with customs and immigration queues between the two.

Zanzibar is a melting pot of Arab, Indian, and African culture. Zanzibar is predominantly Muslim while the mainland is mostly Christian. The islands are also home to much higher densities and numbers of Arab and Indian peoples. The architecture here is fantastic. Dilapidated but fantastic. And, of course, with influences like this, the food is superb. The area is reknowned for growing spices and the market is awash in aromatic scents.

I am beginning to feel like a real hunter, however, after each meal's exhilarating fight: arguing down the price of food from street vendors. This evening some guy seriously asked for 1000Tsh (83 cents) for a small slice of grilled squid. I couldn't help it, i laughed at him. As I walked away feeling sort of offended that I might look that gullible, he followed me: "How about 800 ... For you 600 ... Ok Ok, 400 ... Sir, Sir Only 200". I think local price was likely 100Tsh and I just couldn't be bothered to deal with someone asking 10 times that ammount.

Wheeling and dealing in the marketplace is extremely fun, however. And I am proud to say that my haggling abilities have improved markedly. The name of the game is pole pole - Kiswahili for "slowly, slowly" - one of the islands major themes. At 10am, I started a discussion with a guy selling cashews and finally purchased some at about 2pm. Sometimes it just takes 4 hours to agree on a price...

Listening: Rain outside, ceiling fan inside
Reading: Across Boundaries: the memoir of Mamphela Ramphele (anyone out there read this and want to discuss? I'm currently trying hard but having a difficult time respecting this "leading activist in the struggle against apartheid".)

Zanzibar = heaven and hell

2008-04-01T18:12:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note. I'm on Kendwa Beach at the North end of the big island of the Zanzibar Archipelego. The sand is blindingly white, smooth and fine. The water is tourqoise and stretches out to the horizon. There is a nice breeze off the water and I see rain clouds in the distance. Looks like it will be a pretty sunset, though the clouds obscure the final moments.

I just finished a long swim and am still curious about a little yellow fish that kept pace with me the entire way and there and back. As I dry off on the beach, I watch hundreds of little crabs (the exact color of the sand) scuttle back and forth. They dart into burrows as I approach. It is ideal here. Except that I'm not alone. In fact, I am utterly surrounded by Italian tourists.

I must admit I sort of hate it here - where a meal costs more than the median monthly wage in Tanzania and ... ok, the bar is now playing American country music. This is not why I came to Africa - in fact it is nearly impossible to tell that Africa is where I am. It feels more like Cancun or Miami or Barcelona. Oh well, I will go enjoy a nap in the hammock and I will depart back to Stonetown tomorrow morning. Early.

loving this

2008-03-28T03:42:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't blogged much of late. it seems that I moved from Observer at the onset, to Commentator for a spell, and now to Experiencer. I have ben in love with Africa of late and doing my best to just live here for the moment. Rather than observe from a distance or distance myself mentally, I've been feeling involved. Today, as I strolled through the streets of Mbeya, stalk of sugar cane in my hand, biting/chewing/spitting like a local, I felt a sense of belonging.

I love the smell of the heavy rains, I still adore the fruit trees, I think the language beautiful, I appreciate the constant "Hello my friend", and that people remember by name after three weeks absence. And the sunsets here are amazing EVERY DAY! How can you have jaw-dropping sunsets every day? Shouldn't I be used to it by now? No! Each day at 6:30 I stop in my tracks and stare open-mouthed upward, usually turning slowly in an anti-clockwise circle with eyes wide open. The locals walk around me and probably think i'm one of the funniest mazunga that ever seen. But their laughter is never derisive. Even when i stumble through my pitiful pronouciation, it is laughter of joy.

I took a daladala (minibus) out to the train station to purchase onward travel back to Dar Es Salaam. you should see this station! It's beautiful. L.B., you would especially appreciate the art deco geometry. I don't know if this station ever catered to the bustling crowd it was built to hold but the building's presevation in it's current state of twice-weekly service is stunning. I then even managed to flag down the correct daladala for return travel. i was extremely proud of being able to handle this transaction entirely in kiswahili. Go me!!

On another note, Malawi is a very narrow country so there's really only one north-south road. All of us backpackers, therefore, travel along the same route which led to the pleasant surprise of sharing a minbus with the Canadian couple (Mathew and Lesley) from Arusha (see earlier post). We banded together to negotiate prices (having to argue to pay what we agreed to at the start of the trip, not some made-up number presented half way along); we compared travel and told stories; we learned from each other's mistakes.

They also showed be a lovely hotel (hot shower and TV in my room, clean double bed, rooftop terrace for $7) and a restaurant serving some of the best food I've had in the whole country.

Anyway, back to the beginning, i have not been relaying my stories because i've been too busy living them. this may be unfortunate for those of you looking for new posts to distract you at work, but fortunately it means I'll have more stories to tell on my return.

Speaking of...after a brief moment thinking about surprising you all by returning home unannounced, I've relented and am pleased to say I'll be home May 4th. homecoming party invite to follow...

creepy

2008-03-19T08:13:00.000-07:00

I have to take a moment to talk about something disturbing. Those of you easily distraught may want to skip this one. Ok not really, but it is a little gross. I'm talking about the little bugs, parasites, and creepy crawlies.

I am here at the end of the rainy season (significant rain most days since December) and so you can imagine that it is is not only hot here in the jungles of East Africa, it is also humid. One of the effects of this is that after washing your clothes and hanging them to dry, they stay wet for quite some time. Apparently there is a little fly that likes to lay eggs in this moist cloth. That is fine for a while until you are wearing your T-shirt and start to sweat. This wakes the little buggers who then follow the moisture and burrow into the skin of your underarms. Ugh.

Second is the lake fly. I was sitting at the beach and noticed three or four plumes of smoke on the other side of the lake. I didn't take too much notice, thinking that it was a fire pit either for burning agricultural waste or for cooking lunch or something. Then i realized that they weren't on the other side of the lake. They were in the middle! I'm talking about a plume of black 'smoke' about a kilometer away shooting up in a spiral of probably 15 meters high. What is it? Lake Flies. The eggs float on the lake and when they are born, they swarm upward in what looks like a funnel of smoke, billions of these little flitting bugs. They mate and lay eggs and die. Apparently when they are close to land, the people run out with nets and catch them to make into cakes. i have yet to have one, but I'll try.

Schistosomiasis (Bilharzia or Snail Fever) is another fun one. It is a parasite which hatches and deposits itself in these little snails in the lake, when it is an adult, it swims out and deposits itself in a person. According to a leaflet I have it then enters the bloodstream, mates,and lays eggs which deposit themselves in the bladder or intestine. Gross. And dangerous too. Though there appears to be easy treatment

What else? Oh, the darn mosquitos. Ubiquitous, vicious, and often carrying malaria. They tend to bite you right on the ankle though I have a couple of bites on my ellbow of all places.

On the other side of the battle there is a bat that lives in the shower here and every day I give it encouragement, telling it how proud I am that it is eating up the little mosquitos. Also a veritable army of cute little geckos chase each other around the walls and grab any insects they can reach. And even though I think i got a spider bite this morning, the arachnids (even the scorpions - which scare the hell out of me) are doing their part as well.

After the initial claustraphobia of sleeping beneath a mosquito net, I wonder now if i will feel too vulnerable to ever sleep without it.

life

2008-03-19T08:11:00.000-07:00

I found it! A peaceful place in Nhkata Bay where i feel i belong. A restaurant/cafe where the owner and her sister are nice and sweet. The place is unobtrusive, cool and breezy. There is a steady stream of people walking past but I can tuck into the corner to avoid people i don't want to see or wave if i want to chat. I went flor lunch again today and suddenly felt this wave of peace roll over me. Finally!

So I have made it to Lake Malawi. And it is all for which one could hope. A huge body of crystal clear, almost Carribean blue water. The fisherman set out sometime at dark and come back soon after first light. Speaking of, the sunrise this morning was unreal. The golden beams of light were streaking down between stormclouds and the Mozambique coastline was softened by the rain in the distance.

All night long there had been very distant thunderclaps and flashes of lightning though not much rain on this side of the lake. The fishing boats all have lights on the bow and you could see them bobbing up and down.

I am staying in a beautiful thatch roofed cabin on stilts out on a rock creeping into the lake. So i listen to the water lapping the piers below my head all night long. In the storms the waves beat the piers enough to shake me awake in bed.

I speak so fondly of having finally found a peaceful place because Nhkata bay has not been a great town yet; full of tourists and poor interaction with local people. i've not really felt welcome. And it segues into a few topics that I have been meaning to discuss for some time.

Any of you philosophy or art majors who want to chime in with a professional treatise on the subject, please do. The first topic is the idea that as a traveller I have a moral obligation to spend money and the second is the idea that class and economic position of an artist is a consideration in the value of art.

I am a believer in buying locally and in plowing money back into a community. It is why I rail against multi-national corporations. And franchise stores. I often say that if it is possible for me to buy something everywhere (Starbucks coffee for example), then I do not wish to buy it anywhere (even in Seattle where it IS a local chain).

Because this tends to remove capital from a community. And no, I do not even begin to buy the argument that the employees working there get the money and put it back. Those of you who have worked at Target want to chime in with your wage compared to the stockholder dividend? But this is a discussion for another time.

So I was hanging out with some local guys the other day. Artists one and all, making traditional inspired wood carvings and jewelry. Also doing more pop art like T-shirt screenprinting and such. They invited me into their shops and I told them that there was very little chance I would buy anything (I already spent this month's art allowance on some great paintings I found in Mzuzu) but I'd love to come chat and take a look. Nothing appealled to me and I figured that would be it. But they decided to come along on my hike to the beach nearby. We continued to talk, conversation moving into political corruption and the horrible state of the roads in rural areas and the lack of money in Nhkata bay and how poor these guys are.

This then became part of the reason why I should buy their wood carvings. Because they needed the money. We went around and around the subject because it doesn't make sense to me. I think that the distinction must be made of whether this is art (or even just a souvenier) - purchased for the value i see in it and from a desire to experience it over and over at home. Or whether it is charity, given as a thank-you for a monetary donation. This one is deeply seated in my own cultural background and i can't withdraw enough to see the other side, however, so if anyone has insights please interject.

At one point in the afternoon, I received a lecture about coming to Malawi and not spending money buying stuff from these three guys and how that wasn't right. As though I were taking things (pictures of the beautiful lake and stories of my adventures) and not giving back enough. Now I am not much of a consumer of product. I spend my money on good food and drink, and on travel. Julie and I travel to Illinois to see my family and friends, to Massachusetts to see her family and friends, to weddings around the world, to holiday in various places around the country and the world. But I don't buy a lot of 'items'. They aren't very important to me. Yes I would like to have more art in my house but I am not about to buy a bunch of wood carvings in Malawi, take them on a minibus to South Africa, and on a plane to Morocco and Senegal. I have one small bag and it is full to overflowing already.

I also got a heated lecture about staying in a hostel owned by a South African, an American, and a Brit. I asked about another place only to find that it was foreign-owned as well. I asked if there were Malawi-owned places in town and only got evasive answers. Perhaps there aren't any. And certainly the resthouses aimed at overland truck drivers, not tourists, leave much to be desired in terms of cleanliness and ammenities and location without saving a worthy amount of kwacha.

I'll talk more later (maybe after leaving the country) about my feelings on the mistaken priorities of the Malawi government. But for now let me just say that on many levels I agree with these guys. There should be more Malawi-owned businesses. There should be more community development.

But I do draw the line at being viewed as a walking bag of money; which is sometimes how i feel.

To make matters worse, the guys lecturing me and telling me how poor they were had spent from 11am until about 5pm hanging out with me. Just hanging out, doing nothing.

There is an honest belief that each and every Mazunga (foreigner) has a money tree in our backyards. And seemingly nothing I say can convince the people that I have had to work for years to be able to take this trip. Some of this stems from seeing us on vacation, lying around reading books, swimming, playing and having fun, never working and it has become so pervasive that now the idea of a mazunga working is unbelievable. Some of my new friends had a landslide from the rains cause damage to their house - I offered to help them with construction, even telling them that I was a bit of an experienced builder (see my other blog at: 3540remodel.blogspot.com) and it was though I was suddenly speaking in Czech - they could comprehend me giving them money but not offering labor.

My friend Simon, who has lived here longer, was actually able to convince some local friends to let him help fix their fish drying racks and the villiagers came from a mile around when they heard a mazunga was helping with building. I think it was just that it was completely outside of their worldview.

...

So I have spent a few more days here and have grown quite fond of the place. I stopped for an avocado and limes at the market last night. Nhkata bay regularly does not have electricity on Sundays during the day. It usually comes back on around 6pm but was still off at 7:30 so my market trip was in utter darkness illuminated by the occasional candle; so i accidentally got tangerines (which, like oranges here have green peels). But my avocado! About the size of a softball it was rich, ripe, soft, and fleshy. Amazing. And costing about 12¢. Apparently pineapple season in November is insane!

I know that it is true but I can't get over the excitement that fruit grows on trees - just right there for the picking! Seattle has its share of berries which grow everywhere. Blackberry bushes on every corner and every park and I do gather quite a lot but avocados and bananas and pineapples and mangos.... YUM!

I have infiltrated the ex-pat crowd as opposed to the tourist crowd. The juxtaposition of the two is interesting to me. The tourists wear long pants to avoid malaria, the ex-pats don't care and say "oh, I've only had malaria twice this year, it's fine." The tourists are wary of the water, ordering drinks without ice, afraid of schistosomiasis in the lake; the ex-pats get as much ice in this heat as they can find and say "this lake is to beautiful not to go swimming."

Sure they all know each other and it feels a bit like middle school, but it's also nice to have some insider views. Mike is originally from Cape Cod and has lived in Malawi for years. He leases some beachfront land north of Nhkata bay and built a house there at the back of a tiny village. Being 6'3" (1.87m), skinny, white, and gregarious, he is well known by literally everyone; for probably a 50-mile radius.

He brought me up to his house the other day to get away from Nhkata bay and see the countryside. We got off the minibus at an anonymous spot in the midst of corn and casava fields. He led me along a dirt trail which narrowed to become a dirt path and meandered through fields and across streams for nearly a mile before reaching the village (20 thatch and mud houses) and then over a small rise to the beach.

What a place. The beach here is amazing - smooth white sand and not a soul for a mile in either direction. He has a Malawi woman and two of her kids living with him. She made us a delicious beef and rice dish and some Nsima for the kids.

Nsima is the national dish of Malawi. It is actually identical to Ugali, the national dish of Tanzania. It is much like polenta in the southern USA but less grainy. It is basically a maize-flour porridge cooked until it is the consistency of mashed potatoes. You take a small bit in your hand, roll it into a ball to soften it and then push it flat with your thumb. Then you use this piece to pick up and eat the fish, chicken, or beans. No forks. I quite like it though most Mazunga think it is too bland and heavy. I'm learning how to make it so perhaps I'll make some when I get home.

The kids are 4 and 7, adorable. We went swimming and I helped them with a coloring book. Mike dotes on them, especially the little girl and talked about adopting them sometime. It seems depressing to talk about adoption when their mother is still here but due in a large part to the extremely high rates of HIV infection in East Africa the average life-expectancy is extremely low. Which leaves many many children in desperate need.

On our way back to Nhkata Bay, I took yet another form of local mass transit: the matola. This is just a pickup truck running a vague route between towns. For a pitance you can climb abord, nestle between sacks of charcoal or vegetables and hang on for dear life. A recent law limiting the occupancy of minibusses has greatly increased their comfort (before you would literally have people sitting on your lap), but this law does not apply to matolas so it can turn into quite the spectacle with people clinging to any available surface, nearly being dragged behind or thrown off while the vehicle navigates the potholes masquerading as roads.

However it was quite late at night so our ride was not full and I actually found this to be one of the better modes of transport. At least there was air. I don't know what to tell you about the safest way to travel. Traffic accidents here are frequent and deadly. It feels as though human life is completely undervalued as drivers compete with each other, overtaking on blind curves, driving well above a safe speed. Common thinking is that the large busses are safer than the minibusses but I met a Dutch couple that told me they were waiting at a bus terminal for a bus to depart and found a minbus that was leaving earlier so they took that. Later they heard that the bus for which they were waiting had a terrible crash and killed 15. It does make you appreciate every day you live.

Imagine for a moment, all of you who live in the western world, a life expectancy of 40, the complete lack of medical treatment and what there is you likely can't afford. I mean in Tanzania mosquito nets cost about $1 and many people can't afford them. Such a simple way to prevent a terrible disease but out of reach.

shopping

2008-03-19T08:09:00.000-07:00

Hello all,
Sorry for the lapse in posts but I've been on an island, cut off from almost all communication. In fact the phone exchange was down for two days so even the island's one telephone was of no use. But I have a moment of internet access so here follow some of my thoughts from the last weeks. I hope you enjoy.

I believe I mentioned that while sitting on a minibus waiting for departure, salespeople come up on all sides to show their wares and entice you to purchase various goods. Here follow the items available to be brought to you at the Karonga Bus Terminal:
•  Bananas
•  Apples (imported from South Africa)
•  Flashlights
•  Radios
•  Wicker Baskets
•  Cigarettes
•  Plastic Storage Tins
•  Wallets
•  Belts
•  Socks
•  Pressed Aluminum Pots
•  Icecream
•  Candy
•  Soda
•  Toothbrushes/toothpaste (See previous three items)
•  Samosas
•  Hard Boiled Eggs
•  Comb
•  Water in thin platic bags
•  Watches
•  Tennis Balls
•  Cabbage
•  Bread
•  Knives
•  Cookies
•  Newspapers
•  Sandals
•  Phone Cards
•  Razors
•  Batteries
•  Calculators
•  Rolls
•  Washcloths
•  Bicycle Pump
•  and the winner: I look out and see a mouse in a little cage and think "NO WAY are they selling mice!" No indeed it was a guy selling live-catch mousetraps.

It reminds me a little of the checkout aisle in the supermarket. Full of impulse shopping items. I was thinking icecream would be nice right now and yes candy and soda and even a hard-boiled egg make sense for people on two to ten hour mini bus journeys, but who is going to buy aluminum pots off this guy leaning in the window.

Just then the couple in front of me started inspecting one of the pots for quality. They compared some different sizes and eventually settled on a medium sized pot and bought it. The activity brought over a crowd of other salesmen - not because someone buying a cooking pot necessarily needs a leather belt too, but because someone obviously had some disposable cash.

TRAVEL and thoughts

2008-03-06T01:42:00.000-08:00

Ok so I find myself in the midst of long bus travel and is bears a description. The first day started a bit on the frustrating side. I had somehow gotten down to my last few shilling and if i wanted lunch it was imperative to get some more.

I had had to take a large chunk of cash out from an ATM last week to pay for my safari. In Seattle i can buy a $2 coffee with my Visa and no one bats an eye. Though this practice is less common the farther east you travel. In NYC i once had to pay cash for a $100 bar tab for my self and friends.

Here at least i expect that my visa will almost never see the light of day. But a five-day safari in cash! And the ATM spits out 10000 shilling notes (about $9 each) so it is quite a wad of bills!

So anyway, i withdrew money just fine but returned from the wilds to find the bank had disabled my card. Ugh. To compound the problem, ATMs in Tanzania are notorious for problems (most often running out of money, but also only about 60% being operational at any given time). Couple that with not really knowing which banks accept my credit union ATM card and not always knowing where the banks are, and getting money can sometimes be quite a chore.

So after a long quest i finally did get some money, grabbed my bag from the hostel, and headed toward the bus. I quckly noticed a couple of backpackers on the same route and struck up conversation. Leslie and Mathew are a couple of Canadians just finishing a six-month program working with a NGO (non-governmental organization) in Kenya working with farming cooperatives to improve marketting and streamline business models to improve competitiveness and sustain independent farming. They had lived in Nairobi and in some small villages up country.

I was fascinated to get their perspective on Kenya in regard to the ethnic rivalry and rioting which occured following a flawed vote in ... was it January. Apparently the Kenyans euphimistically refer to it (1000+ dead, 30,000 displaced was the last i read in February) as 'the problem'.

One of the more reassuring things I learned from these two was that they are just as confused by the violence as I am. In fact they tell me that most Kenyans are also confused. Some of this confusion comes from our western nationalism. We tend to subconsciously draw lines at national borders and I may not agree with everything a Californian thinks bit i still identify with them as an American. It is sometimes difficult to see tribal or ethnic divisions and to not think "But you are all Kenyan" even though, of course, colonial lines were drawn arbitrarily by Europeans.

But i think that more of the confusion comes from the fact that the actions of many people doesn't match the words that leaders like Kibaki and Odinga are telling the world.

What is amazing is that No One believes that the 'problems' are merely a result of election tampering - especially when most informed people believe that there was vote fraud on both sides.

So the ride was 10 hours from Arusha in the north to Dar. I am taking the nicest of the bus lines for a few extra shilling, this gets me a much nicer bus with a toilet and a departure very close to my hostel.

This bus turns out to be the nicest public transit i've taken. in Africa: I get biscuits and a soda at mid-morning and a bottle of water in the afternoon. And we stop at a tasty roadside restaurant for lunch. Really the only downside is that they insist on playing a video of this horrific Tanzanian soap opera that is apparently a national obsession. Imagine being stuck on a 10-hour bus ride watching "Days of our lives", but with fewer production values and louder. There is one woman on the show who spent 10 consecutive minutes screaming and crying and bawling and yelling and screaming again. This was followed by a non-stop yelling argument by two other characters. And culminated in what appeared to be an exorcism by a raspy voiced priest. Ugh. My earplugs wouldn't help so i turned up my music prefering to further deafen myself than to snap my patience completely.

On the bright side again, the bus is only half full so i have both seats to myself. That is until we hit a rainstorm around 2pm. Then a Tanzanian woman, Daphne, comes up and asks to sit next to me as it is leaking water by her seat. I gladly consent and have a wonderful conversation. She showed me pictures of her kids, I show her pictures of Julie, she bought me some cashews, and helped me figure out how to get to Mbeya, the border town on my way to Malawi.

She actually lives in Mbeya and said that if her husband weren't on his way to Dar the next morning that i would be more than welcome at their house. How many of us have ever or would ever invite a stranger on the bus to come dine at our house? Maybe we should do it more often.

So my guidebook talks of the failed socialist experiments of Tanzania in the 70s. The Tanzanian government instituted a sometimes forced relocation in an effort to set up farm cooperatives across the country. In the end production was extremely low and the failing economy and foreign donor pressure ended the practice. It was interesting to hear Daphne's perspective, however. Both to hear about her time as a teenager in the national service camps where she learned farming and worked. But also in terms of the result of the relocation and integration in terms of breaking down tribal divisions and differences. No, i'm not at all saying that forced integration is even morally conscionable or that loss of tribal identity is good. But the result is that many people in Tanzania know three tribal languages in adition to Kiswahili and English and are related to, and identify with, people all over the country. In Kenya, for example, the people have been intermarrying for generations and the tribal divisions along which the current ethnic strife occurs is both arbitrary and untrue. People there claim heritage to one tribe or the other but their family tree tells a very different story. Tanzanians tend to identify first as Tanzanian though tribal practice and custom and identity are much more alive than on Native American reservations where it was actively discouraged.

In Dar, Daphne gave me all three of her mobile numbers in case i have any problems either in Mbeya or at the border. Wonderful.

I share a taxi and then dinner with the Canadian couple and then off to bed as my bus leaves at 6:45 the next morning.

...

Heading west today away from Dar, the landscape is lush and fruitful. Much of the population here are subsistance farmers, growing just enough food on their small plots to eat and take to market. I see banana trees, corn fields, potato plants, rice paddies.

So I was explaining the difference between America and Africa yesterday and I said that a major difference is that in the US if I want something, I have to go seek it out. Here people bring their wares to you. People run up in the street with 25 shirts on hangers, or walk around with fairly ingenious coffee tins with built in charcoal stoves underneath, or everytime the bus stops, 20 people run up with boxes full of soda and cookies and bananas on trays and little skewers of grilled meat. They surround the bus and make sales through the window. It's really quite convenient though maybe a bit inefficient due to over-competition. I mean how many times a day is someone going to buy a NY Yankees stocking hat out of a bus window that happens to stop in Morogoro?

This also happened when our safari vehicle stopped. Sometimes it was convienient: all the driver had to do to go grocery shopping was pull over and yell out "bread, eggs" and people would come running. Sometimes it was annoying as we stop for a second and 5 guys bring out the same low quality bead- and artwork. But I was very good about explaining that i wasn't interested in commerce but more in conversation and i would often find someone willing to just chat for the few minutes.

In some ways, I have to go seek out African culture much like i seek out retail at home. And the Africans I meet have European and American and Asian culture brought to them much like they are used to bananas and clothing being brought to the bus.

Having stayed up late and risen early I spend much of the day asleep (I wonder if I will ever sleep normally again) and wake at one point to find that the ground had risen around us. Steep hills covered in acacia trees and scrubby undergrowth tower overhead to one side and the cliff drops away to the other. We are on a winding road up the mountains under a sky inspired by or inspiring the opening credits of the simpsons.

The Mbeya bus terminal is typical: me walking around with an entourage of 10 guys trying to guide me while I tell them over and over that I would prefer to explore by myself for a bit. There are LOTS of ways to get to the border from here where I can walk across and pick up some other bus on the other side but I'm tired and want something to be easy so I am looking for a bus that goes the whole distance. Eventually the guys around me lie to me and tell me that this exists (I find out later that there aren't any busses that travel the whole distance - likely due to the Malawians trying to tax the bus as being imported). So i buy a ticket and find a bed.

...

Next day, due to me trusting someone who turned out to either be a flake or actively trying to make things harder, and due to my lack of dilligence, I miss my bus. I'll take the blame though I am still angry with one of my 'friends'. Oh well, so as I said, getting to the border isn't usually a problem so i get some assistance and board a minibus (daladala in the local tongue).

Here is where my travel takes a downward turn. The bus sits for a while filling up (about 15 seats) and finally pulls up to the terminal exit. Here begins a complicated game/practice/torture. I don't begin to understand it so i will describe what i see. There is a rope across the exit and an older man who lowers it to allow minibusses to depart. On the other side of that are about 50 tanzanian guys who appear to have nothing to do other than hang out near the bus terminal. They are laughing and joking and hanging out, standing in the street at 7am. Perhaps it is the waiting area for minibusses which will load shortly. Perhaps this is where the bus touts wait before the arrivals start later in the day. Perhaps they just don't have anything better to do.

We arrive at the rope and with a series of honks communicate with the blank stare of the rope-handler. Tthis continues for 5 minutes and the driver and conductor have a loud conversation followed by various conversations with the rope-handler and a number of people in the vicinity.

Other minibusses depart around us. Some sit behind us and join in the various honking. At one point three of us are honking for 60 seconds. Then nothing happens and we stop. At one point our bus does leave, forces its way bodily through the throng of people who don't really get out of the way until we bump them, pulls into the street, into a driveway, backs up and goes back into the bus station where we pull up to the rope and begin a new round.

I'm thouroghly confused and extremely tired but I watch as it seems like this might be a huge insight into Tanzania as a whole.

Eventually we do leave and make our bumpy way forward. Daladalas do not have luggage storage other than some space to tie things on the top/sides/back. So I am again thankful to have packed lightly as my bag rests across my knees for an hour.

We pull into a bus station and everyone departs the bus. As I tend to take transit to the end of the line, this is usually my cue but i have no idea where we are yet. There are already 5 guys pushing into the bus door with a stream of "where you going, mister?", "My friend, come with me.", "Are you going to Malawi, mister?". And three pairs of hands reaching for my bag, my shoulder, my hand. And all of them yelling at each other, jostling for space and crying out at me. I'm not in the mood for this at all. I give a desperate look to the driver who indicates silently with a nod of his head that i should follow him. I pull a hand off my bag, shake another off my elbow and push through. We all nearly get caught in the door like a slapstick comedy but I am not laughing.

Now there are at least 10 of the bus touts following and they realize that the driver is helping me so they turn on him. They are mad. I hear heated arguments as they defend their 'jobs' but we push through. I get on board another minibus (and manage to grab the front seat) and relay my destination to the driver. I see the other driver still in heated discussion but as it is too late tempers are calming rapidly.

I know that unemployment is extremely high here and that these guys need to work for the pitiable wages they get but most countries have signs ("this way to eastbound busses serving Bellevue, Redmond") and maybe an information desk to answer questions. Here are 45 guys running at you and fighting with each other. I am trying hard to appreciate the cultural and social differences but sometimes it stretches the limits of my patience.

Another 45 minute ride and we turn off into a small village where the driver turns to me and says, "here is the border". Well I don't see this mythical bridge to Malawi so i ask and they point me down the road (2km). Here the name of the game is money exchange and bike rides to the border. I walk in order to clear my head and to see the countryside and have 25 different people ask to exchange my Tanzanian shillings for Malawi Kwacha.

I joke with all of the money changers: calling out "Hey mister!" before they have a chance and try to exchange my Egyptian Pounds for Icelandic Kroner or Mexican Peso. It is sunny and I'm almost to a new country and I'm happy. Even more happy to be off the minibus for a spell.

I do exchange my last $40 of shilling and have to endure everyone assuming that i would never carry such little money. I explain over and over that yes, I'm white, yes, I'm American, yes, I'm traveling, and no I am not rolling in gold, nor do i carry a sack full of $1000 notes. One of the worst things we ever did for travellers like myself was to convince the world that America is the land of milk and honey where the streets are paved in gold and everyone has a job and we all drive mercedes and wear the clothes that we advertise.

So my experience is that most border crossings have signs and lines and you can't just walk into the next country accidentally. Not so Tunisia! I see a big building called 'customs' and I walk in and ask a man at a desk whether I need to do anything here. He says no and points at the bridge to Malawi. I walk that way. I see another uniformed man and say hello, I'm going to Malawi and he points at the bridge. I walk about 2/3 across the bridge and see the 'Welcome to Malawi' sign and think "shouldn't I have gone through Tanzania immigration first?" and a truck pulls up beside me. A serious and slightly perturbed man looks out and asks me why i didn't get a stamp to leave Tanzania. I look at him, bewildered, and relay my story. He drives me back to the same building and points at the immigration counter. It is NEXT TO the guy that i asked first. Does the customs officer not know that the immigration officer is right there???

I get to the Malawi side and get my visa. And then nothing. Not a sign "this way to malawi", not a waiting onslaught of minibusses and no one saying "Mister this way". Nothing but an open field. And a road. I walk to the road and ask how far to Karonga (the next sizeable town). It is 45km so I guess walking is out of the question. There is a town adjacent and a hole in the fence so i am directed that way to find a taxi.

I take a shared taxi with a Tanzanian man here for business and a woman with her mother and her 2-month old adorable baby.

In the 45km we hit THREE roadblock checkpoints. They ask me where I'm from and are satisfied with "America". But the poor Tanzanian guy has to get out three times to show his passport and answer questions. It seems they want money from him. I have no idea if he pays but we continue on.

He is actually going to Mzuzu as well so I am relieved to have some help navigating. The bus ride is uneventful and I was too tired to really give you much description other than we went through a gigantic tea farm. I had no idea that there was Malawi tea. I'll have to try some.

I see a sign for the Mzuzu area and some guesthouse advertisements. The bus pulls over and a number of people get off. I'm about to go ask if this is Mzuzu when my Tanzanian businessman comes over and signals that this is it.

I get off to a dusty road with some shacks and a petrol station. This is not the "grand tree-lined boulevard" from my guidebook so i ask the conductor a few times to be sure. He says, "yes, just go left on this side street and you're there". So i do. The Tanzanian guy (I know, I need to remember more names...) sees a Tanzanian originating truck and asks the driver about guesthouses. I follow because inside information is always worth knowing. We end up at a moderately grimey place and after checking it out, I say thank you and go look around for something better.

I ask about the places in my guidebook and most people have never heard of them. I ask about the banks and finally determine that yes, I am in Mzuzu, but not even close to downtown. A suburb! So this is the third time this trip that I was led by someone off of public transit into the wrong place. The problem is that the locals get off on the outskirts where they live, and I want to go to the city center where there are tourist activities. No not always and yes it is often a rewarding experience to hang out where the locals hang out but this was a bit of a pain.

So i ask one of the bicycle taxis for a lift. Do not picture this as a cushy bike-rickshaw with a plush seat in a cart. no this is a padded bike rack right behind the 'driver'. I straddle the bike and sit and he pushes off on his 1-speed and steadies us surprisingly well as I have my backpack and a shopping bag. We move quickly downhill for a while and i see the city on the next rise. It was about half-way up the hill when i really start to feel bad for the $0.80 that I've paid for this ride. This guys is working HARD as I have 35lbs of luggage.

So I am now a short ride away from Nhtaka Bay - a bit of a party town on the beach of Lake Malawi. I'll go in the morning and stay a bit. Finally I can spend some time not on a bus!! Yay. It was three full days to get here (about 1000 miles).

I hope to drop some pictures onto my previous posts today. Love to all.

Safari Day 5 - Life and Death

2008-03-01T22:44:00.000-08:00

We elect to leave very early again in order to maximize our active wildlife viewing. We're at breakfast at 6am and in the car by 10 to 7.

The crater is stunning. About 300 square kilometers and an extremely high concentration of animals. We watch hundreds of thousands of wildebeast happily munching grass. Ilya notes that a group of them seem to be converging and we edge closer.

Wow! There is a baby wildebeast that can't be more than five minutes old! The mother hasn't even fully passed the afterbirth. He's glistening wet and struggling to stand. The female gnu (do you call them doe?) are surrounding the baby, keeping it in the center and nuzzling it as it wobbles and crashes from side to side. But in five minutes it's walking around searching for and eventually finding its mother's milk.

We head across the park after a reported lion sighting. This is not our usual sighting, however. There are fifty vultures on the ground and an angry looking lioness facing them. Behind her sits a partially eaten wildebeast carcass. A fresh kill! And to make it better there are three adorable, fuzzy lion cubs behind her.

The mother's muzzle is red with blood and she runs at the birds defending her meal. Each time they back away only to advance on another side.

Today's miscellaneous birds include guinneafowl, kites, ibis, crowned crane, egret, and thousands more flamingo.

After the manditory turkish coffee stop at noon we continue on and approach a long line of trucks on the road. There it is! The black rhino. Only about fifteen in the park and likely fewer than a hundred in the wild we keep our distance and watch this prehistoric creature amble by.

On our way back to Arusha we stop at a Masai village. I've mentioned the Masai - a nomadic herding tribe who live in southern Kenya and northern Tanzania. But i haven't talked much about them. That is because it is a difficult and complicated subject for me. Perhaps best left to another post.

Back in Arusha i take the most wonderful shower and wash my clothes. The dust streams off of me and down the drain. I've elected to stay the night at the hotel with my new Israeli friends and have breakfast with them tomorrow before i head to Dar Es Salaam.

Safari Day 4 - The Elusive Leopard

2008-02-29T22:30:00.000-08:00

Today we wake early and take a quick coffee at 6am. Then it is out to see the animals at sunrise. We are all sort of hoping to see a leopard as it is our last big animal other than rhino.

First we run across a herd of elephant. Instead of their midday amble, they seem giddy and alert. We see some minor scuffles - perhaps as they jostle for position for the day. They are scratching themselves on trees (and knocking not a few of them over) and being somewhat playful and touchy. They nuzzle and jostle with each other.

Watching the sun rise behind a herd of giraffe on the Serengeti is on of those happy moments that will stay with me forever.

So now we are fully on a search for Leopard, We're all up and scanning the surrounding area for anything that doesn't completely blend in with the surrounding grass. And wishful thinking makes everything look like a cat.

As we round one of the huge rock outcroppings, I note a couple of ears in the mouth of a cave. That's right, yours truly spots a leopard in her cave 40 meters away half way up a rock. We all get a quick glimpse before she ducks back in - likely to guard her young. We wait quite a while but she never returns.

Much of the remainder of our day is spent driving around looking at grass. We search for another cheetah to no avail. Not a problem though. We see many other animals (including jackal which look like big foxes) and plants and the landscape is beautiful. Couldn't ask for more!

Then it is time for the long drive back to Ngorogoro. Tonight we stay on a campsite right on the rim of the crater and tomorrow we head in.

Oh and i finally found the big dipper. It is LOW in the sky, under the horizon until about 11pm and then rises upside down. The north star is at or below the horizon here. I do have a beautiful view of the southern cross and the milky way of course.

Safari Day 3 - Big Cats, Small Flies

2008-02-28T21:15:00.000-08:00

So we have seen and photographed and observed most of the larger animals. All that remain are Rhinos (which we won't see here but will almost certainly see in Ngorogoro crater), cheetah, leopard, and crocodile. And we all sort of want to see a kill: a lion taking a zebra or a cheetah running down a small impala or even a crocodile grabbing a young warthog.

We are not let down. While observing probably a thousand head of buffalo I note a couple of heron up ahead. Urick had missed taking a photo of one yesterday so i pointed it out and asked Solehe to edge closer. As we approached, one of them flew away but the other stayed behind. He posed nicely for us to take a few pictures, turning his head first one way then the other. Snap! Faster than the blink of an eye he strikes at the ground with his head and comes up with something squirming around. Is it a fish? No, I'm looking through my binoculars and it looks more like an eel. A snake! He has managed to grab a 15 inch greenish snake by the neck. He's holding tightly, just behind the head, and the snake is twisting and writhing - desperate to escape. But there is no escape. The snake slows. And stops. And the heron flips back his head and swallows it whole. Our first kill.

Moments later we see the second. We haven't moved and this time we are watching the herons up ahead. Again, a blinding strike and a heron comes up this time with a huge lizard. The action plays out relatively the same except the bird drops the lizard a few times (having legs it has a bit of an advantage over the snake) but each time snaps down again on its neck. Finally, the lizard has enough and stops the struggle and again we watch the heron swallow its meal whole.

We drive through the savannah and swamp in search of a cheetah or leopard, but instead see elephant, hippo, crocodile, heron, numerous birds and a number of hoofed animals: hartbeast, redbuck, waterbuck. No other drivers have seen our quarry either and we try everything we can: looking in trees, rock outcroppings, near water, on the edges of herds, even looking for circling vultures.

At one point in our search we hit a swarm of tsetse flies. Nasty little creatures. Look like big grey houseflies until they bite through your clothing. It HURTS and is dangerous because they can carry sleeping sickness. Not fun.

Finally it is time to head back to camp for lunch. The day is hot and we all lie down after lunch for a nap. Then back out. Quickly we see some trucks stopped at the roadside and driver over to investigate. Two male lions are sleeping under a tree at road's edge. Other than the rise and fall of their chests, they could be dead. Not even a bat of their eyes or flick of tail. 50 meters away, two females are taking their mid-day rest. One has a radio collar on for research purposes.

Near the end of our day, while we are visiting another hippo pond we hear of a cheetah sighting and head that direction. By the time we arrive, this shy animal has disappeared. I recognize this place, we are right near the sleeping lions from earlier. We see the males, still unmoving but the females have disappeared. We are about to head back to camp when we spot the younger female creeping through the grass. She stops and stares at the area where the cheetah sighting had been and i wonder if she has caught the scent. I think so as she is walking now with a purpose in that direction.

Suddenly we see the cheetah! She has appeared at the roadside directly across from the lioness. They face each other, 3 meters apart and growl and hiss. The lion moves forward and the cheetah counters, circling. Now the lion is moving away into the field and the cheetah attacks.

Now you have to understand that the cheetah is 1/3 or less the size of the lioness. They are small and fast but the lion is big and strong. So for the cheetah to attack she must have a strong reason. Our best guess is that she is guarding her young hidden somewhere nearby and the lion is hunting them.

So the cheetah attacks and then as the lion turns to counter, retreats as the lion gives chase. This happens three times and finally we lose sight of the cheetah, The lion seems non-chalant. She is slowly walking through the grass, perhaps in wait for the mother, perhaps searching for the cubs. Who knows. But wow to see these two fighting was amazing. I'll show you pictures. My camera is not fantastic but Urick is going to burn a CD of his pictures (with a much better camera and a much better zoom) so the slideshow will be excellent.

Safari Day 2 - Preditor and Prey

2008-02-27T23:00:00.000-08:00

We rise for breakfast at 7am. Have a great meal, a relatively warm shower, and pack up the truck. By 8:30 we are on our way. Today we head through Ngorogoro Conservation Area to Serengeti National Park. Ngorogoro Area contains Ngorogoro crater. This was once a gigantic volcano until the cone colapsed into a 20km diameter caldera - one of the world's largest. It is the center of the great wildebeast migration where hundreds of thousands of wildebeast move from north to south and then back. We'll be back here on Day 5 and head into the crater; today we skirt its edge.

We head into Ngorogoro along the rim of the crater stopping at a viewpoint to look out over this amazing place. It is absolutely huge beyond comprehension and it is difficult to get a sense of distance and size. I'm excited about coming back here in two days as the wildlife viewing should be excellent.

In the plains we see Thompson and Grant gazelles: tall thin, elegant and dik dik which look like white tail deer but only about 18 inches tall. We see more zebra, more giraffe, and then see our first big wildebeast herd.

The wildebeast migration is sporadic this year. The short rains (November and December) were very light and the long rains should have started several weeks ago but have yet to appear. And though I'm happy that I'm not in the middle of the rainy season, it is a bad thing. Everything depends on the rain and its procrastination has thrown the wildebeast migration, normally a rigorously scheduled event, into disarray. They follow the rains to give birth in an area with ready water and food supplies. Apparently they can smell rain on the wind across vast distances. Also I'm told that the babies can run within 20 minutes of birth - a useful skill when you are a 15 pound hunk of meat, hunted by lion, cheetah, leopard, hyena, crocodile, and possibly more.

So as we approach, the wildebeast look like a long dark line cutting across the grass kicking up dust. There are thousands of them, all in a row, at times walking, at times running full out. A wildebeast, or gnu, looks a bit like fifteen animals rolled into one. Sortof like a huge goat, you can also see similarity to cow, yak, bison, zebra. They are dark grey/brown with a lighter colored beard and somewhat bushy tails. Even the young have a whispy little beard.

It has been a while since I've been in the plains and I'd forgotten what the cloud fronts looked like. There is a great dark storm cloud moving in to the left and bright clear sky above. They cut across the road right in front of us running. I expect to hear more noise, but it is surprisingly quiet.

During a gap, we continue forward and catch up to the larger herd. There must be 10 thousand head here. Absolutely stunning.

In addition to seeing most of the animals we had seen yesterday, today we spotted vultures, a hyena, herons and a mongoose running across the road. Also more birds including the superb starling. Yes it sounds oxymoronic - what could be superb about a starling - but they are irridesceng turquoise with the most peircing eyes.

Just past Ngorogoro on our way to Serengeti is the Odupai area, where Luis and Mary Leaky discovered footprints of very early man cast into what was then wet volcanic ash. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details right now, but i believe this was homo habilis. Something like 2 million years ago, this precursur to modern man had been standing upright long enough to have a big toe in line with the foot, a good arch, and was making some of the earliest stone tools ever.

I have been saying all week how amazed I am at the way the plants here bear fruit and food and it feels like mankind is meant to be here. Like we belong and blend in more than anywhere else, it is as though the earth wants us to thrive here and provides in spades. So it is no surprise that this area is where our ancient ancestors were able to come down from the trees and walk upright and become us. I feel as though I have come full circle. Back home.

In the Oldupai Parking Lot we watch at least five different lizard species sunning on the rocks. From 2 inch brown ones to 12 inch bright blue and orange.

Once we come to the Serengeti we see hundreds of impala and gazelle. Near the lowlands we see water buffalo with wide curled horns, hippos, and warthogs (pumba in swahili).

Have I mentioned that most every animal herd we see has young? Baby elephants, young giraffe, tiny monkeys, and infant warthogs. The last ones are funny but completely adorable! They run with their skinny little tails sticking straight up like a flag pole. Warthogs are quite endearing really. They have two teeth or tusks that stick out obliquely from their upper jaw and seem to always be sneering or maybe smiling but in a coniving way.

We reached camp about 4pm and set up the tents. We each manage to set up our own tent - large square olive green canvas domes. We unload the food and equipment and pile back into the truck for a bit more game spotting. We are very quickly rewarded with a male lion lying on this back in the sun. This guy is happy and sated. I don't think he can roll onto his stomach because it is too full. Think post-thanksgiving dinner lying on the couch. He's spread eagle with his head dangling back looking blissful. About 15 meters from the car and completely unconcerned by us. Oh! We hadn't noticed earlier but there is another big male in the shade of a nearby bush. We watch for some time and are again rewarded when first one and then the other gets up, blinks around at the three trucks of people watching, decides not to care and saunters over to the side of the road to lap up some water from the ditch. So now we have two, full-grown male lions haunched down lapping up muddy water like a house cat not 3 meters in front of the car. What a day!

After driving for another hour along tiny tire tracks in the savannah watching a plethora of fauna, we actually have another lion encounter. This one is a female. Also happy to be lying in the sunshine, she looks up at us, stands and poses a few times before moving back to another bush to lie in the shade.

Back at camp we take our dinner late and head straight to bed. The night sky is beautiful. No pollution and no lights so there are millions of stars. Except for Orion I recognize very little of this sky, however. No big dipper, no Cassiopea. The Milky Way is stunning. I learn from my companions that in Israel the belt and sword of Orion form part of what is known as the north arrow and point in that direction. Also there is a constelation of a letter from the Hebrew alphabet in each of the cardinal directions.

The nighttime sounds are a wonderful soothing symphony. Crickets and various chirps, woops, croaks and calls. I hear a lion roaring not far away and think with some real joy that there is just a piece of canvas between me them. Wow!

Safari day 1

2008-02-26T17:21:00.000-08:00

After a delicious breakfast on the street: sweet tea, a deep-fried golden nugget of sweet bread, and chapati - a flat round bread, I head from my cheap hotel over to the super nice hotel nearby. I figure the wait for my driver will be more comfortable in their lobby.

I don't wait long before Solehe, the driver, is there to pick me up. He is 40ish, jolly, and gregarious. We head back to the Safari Office to meet the rest of the group: Dror and Ilya - a couple from Israel, and Urich - a solo traveler also from Israel. As the crew loads up our land cruiser, we get acquainted. Urich has just arrived for a month in Tanzania and the other two just arrived from two weeks in Uganda. Sounds as though they have already had an exciting trip: on their last day in Uganda, the camp in which they were staying burnt to the ground. Amazingly, they only lost a headlamp in the blaze. Let's hope their luck holds!

Ilya is 23 with long hair and huge eyes. Dror is 27, laid-back with a stubbly beard. Urich is 32, with salt and pepper hair cut short. He is quick to smile, inquisitive, earnest and a bit flighty. Rounding out the crew is Mike. Probably 23, Mike is the spry, young cook for our trip.

We head out around nine and make our way through town. Not five minutes into the countryside I see a monkey sitting on ` fence - just like a crow or blackbird back home!

The landscape is beautiful: a wide floodplain to the left and dense jungle to the right. Then we turn into the plains and immediately stop to watch seven giraffe [note: not knowing all of the correct pluralizations I may just ignore them. It is redundant anyway when I say herd or seven or whatever. Unless noted assume there are a group of animals] several ostrich and a herd of zebra browsing in the field.

I love giraffes. They are so bizzarre and so well suited to their needs. They look, to me, prehistoric as they poke their heads above the bush. And they stare right back at you. For a fairly docile herbavore they really look as though they might stand their ground if approached. And with their long loping stride, they can run from all but the fastest preditor.

It doesn't take long before we arrive at camp and unload the tents and food. Mike stays behind and we head off for our first game drive - into Lake Manyara National Park.

The park entrance is only a few hundred meters down the road past town. To the right is a small village and to the left is the jungle of the park. Apparently the people of the village are pestered constantly by baboons who come out and steal from the banana trees.

We turn into the park and immediately see a whole horde of said baboons. They are in the road, in the trees, everywhere you look. Big lazy-looking males with stern faces looking non-plussed. Much smaller females busy with children and somewhat more skittish. Children and tiny baby baboons focussed entirely on playing (jumping/climbing/falling on any tree branch they can grab) or suckling from their mothers. They cling to the backs, sides, or bellys of the older animals sometimes holding with one arm and being dragged along while reaching out to drink more milk. They spend most of their time grooming or being groomed by others, which seems to be more about dinner than about cleanliness. The rest of the time is licking bugs off of leaves, chasing and playing with each other, or silent contemplation of these large vehicles with the humans on board.

The baboons are the largest of the three monkey species in the park. We next spot the smallest: the Babbit monkey. About the size of a small housecat with a long, active tail, these little guys run through the underbrush and swing on the branches above. I don't remember much noise other than some slight chirps.

Lake Manyara National Park is situated in the Rift Valley. This is a huge fissure formed from the separation of two of earth's tectonic plates. The fissure runs from Egypt to Mozambique and is visible from space. Here at Lake Manyara there is a nearly vertical wall dropping from the higlands down to the valley. Water runnoff and springs (hot and cold) feed into the lake. It is an important source of water for many animals which is what makes this park so fascinating.

We watch another herd of zebra (called 'striped donkey' in the Masai Language, this is exactly what they look like: donkey nose, wide donkey belly), various birds (plover, kingfisher, hornbill, lovebirds), a few wildebeast, and a number of impala before heading to 'hippo pond': a small backwater of the lake populated by numerous hippopotomus. There they are, looking like wet round rocks all piled together in the middle of a pond. Then one yawns or squirms around and you see that they are alive. And humungous! One of them has a 1-meter tall stork standing on its back looking like a long-legged pebble on a boulder. A huge eagle flies overhead.

Going back to the impala. These are wiry, spry little deer or gazelle-like animals with the most beautiful horns. The horns are long and with a slight S-curve, they appear to be stripped in black and white. Beautiful animals!

Heading back into the forest somewhat later, I spot our first elephant. Solehe slams to a stop and backs up. We count 4, no 5, elephants shoveling vegetation into their mouths. They eat something like 400 kilograms of food per day. Which is a lot of grasses and leaves!

They are majestic creatures. Long, white tusks and deep, sad eyes give them a nobility and sagacity. Their huge ears flap back and forth and they slowly able along looking for more food. Huge feet leave circular prints in the dust.

What amazes me the most is how this gigantic animal can disappear almost immediately upon walking into the brush. They are a dull grey, tan with mud, and blend in extremely well to the shadows under the canopy. All of the animals we see are well suited to blend in. And the grasses and underbrush provide ready hiding places.

As we go deeper into the forest we finally see the last monkey species: the blue-balled monkey.

We drive around the lake to a large hot-spring. Probably hitting the surface at about 130F (55C) and working its way to the lake, the water here supports a ton of algae, which provides food for ... Flamingos! There are thousands of them. Apparently two types (greater and lesser) though I couldn't tell the difference from the distance. But I could tell that the lake was colored pink with all of the birds.

Here we turn around and head back to camp. We're driving fast to get out of the park before closing until suddenly Ilya yells "stop! There is a lion!". We stop and sure enough one of the park's elusive tree-climbing lion is sitting on a rock, paws crossed surveying the land. It's about 40 meters away, utterly unconcerned with us though we are very much excited by him. Lion sightings here are rare and we feel very lucky.

We are soon joined by other safari groups. The drivers all talk to each other on radio and phone and of course a stopped car is always a good sign of wildlife. Soon we have to move on if we are to make it out of the park. We say goodbye to the lion (simba in Kiswahili) and head home.

Back at camp we are joined by the final safari member. Jane is 64, a New Zealander, currently working as a teacher of teachers in a tiny village at the base of Mt Meru nearby. She is part of a program similar to the Peace Corp working for a pitiful stipend and working hard. But enjoying her time in Tanzania. She has travelled much of the world, living in Bhutan for three years, and is knowledgeable and fun.

There is some very unauthentic Masai tribal dancing and drumming going at the camp bar but we have all had a long day and head toward bed.

A day in the life...

2008-02-25T22:08:00.001-08:00

This morning I woke early in Moshi to grab a shower in the one shared shower before anyone else in the hostel got up and to get an early bus to Arusha to search for a safari company. The sun was just rising and it was beautiful with the foothills of Kilamanjaro in the background. So i ran out and took a couple of pictures. Back at my hotel, breakfast consisted of coffee and bread and watermelon. I supplemented it with an omelet and then a delicious chai. I walked to the bus station taking a wide berth to avoid the hungry scammers. It looked as though the busses were lined up by destination so the trick would be to find the correct aisle, run in, and buy my ticket on the bus. I crossed the street and dove in to the fray. I was immediately spotted and they started circling. I used the swirling crowds as a buffer. I've gotten really good at brushing aside the unwanted ones. Today i wasn't taking anything and the bus station was awful. These people were making it awful and it was annoying so i sorta stopped being nice. At one point two guys were approaching me to try and sell me something and before they even got close enough to say anything I waved them away forcefully with both arms, sternly said "NO" and walked right through them. I hung out near the shops pretending to browse while observing the lines and when i found the Arusha line i went for it. The sudden movement caught their eyes and they realized was getting away. They attacked from three sides - confident because they knew my destination - but it was too late as i pulled myself out into the vehicle. Lucky for me there was one remaining seat on the bus. Very near the back and i took it.

A very bumpy hour later (and with my backpack on my lap i noticed every bump) we arrived in Arusha. I knew we were getting close so i pulled out my map to get my bearings. Lonely planet is good about telling you where to catch the bus but they sometimes neglect to tell you where it will drop you off. I also like to look at the map while still on the bus. Looking like you are lost when you step off the bus is a surefire way to get a lot of unwanted attention. So i walked toward my hotel. Didn't see it but saw an internet cafe. I went in both to check my daily mail but also to consult my map off the street. It may seem like i go through a lot of effort to avoid what is essentially idle conversation but seriously these guys can really ruin the peace of a walk. So having rechecked my directions i decided my hotel was either the really nice looking place on the corner (doubtful for the price listed in the guidebook) or it was next door. I went there and it was definitely neither.

At this point Richard came up. Now usually i am quite nice to people that talk to me on the street (as opposed to at a bus station) but i really just wanted to find a hotel and i had heard a lot of bad about Arusha so i sortof gave this guy the brush off - refusing to answer his most simple inquiry. But he persisted and far be it from me to tell someone they can't walk near me and talk at me. So by this point i decided that my hotel no longer existed. At that moment i saw a hole-in-the-wall place called Amazon hotel. Being nowhere near the Amazon, it seemed perfect. I walked in without even saying goodbye to Richard - rude, I know, but seriously you ride a bumpy bus over dirt roads for an hour and try to be nice. The price was right and the room was fine though it was situated near the common tv room. I paid my money, deposited my bag and left only to see richard actually still waiting for me. Hints weren't going to work so i bluntly told him i had my own agenda for the day and why doesn't he go find something else to do.

I made my way to the tourist office to see if anyone had posted safaris looking for more people. To my dismay this wasn't the DIY traveller bulliten board for which i'd hoped but a place where tour companies posted open seats. But better than nothing and i saw the trip i wanted, leaving tomorrow so i went for it.

I got all signed up including taking money out of the bank using two ATM cards. At that point I felt poor and tired and just wanted to sit in a park somewhere.

So i went to a cafe at the end of the road and was pleased to discover that it was on a beautiful set of grounds with flowering bushes and lush greenery everywhere. Fabulous. AND free wi-fi. Awesome. I wrote email responses, uploaded some pictures, looked at pictures of my brother, and his expectant wife. I'll have a new neice soon!

Then the guy at the next table and i happened to make eye contact so we exchanged pleasantries. He invited me to join him and his wife at their table. We had a great conversation. He and his wife are both about to finish their accounting degrees. It is so wonderful to be in a place where meeting new people on the street, in a cafe, in a restaurant is the norm and people are so authentically welcoming.

I went walking for a bit then headed to the hotel as dusk approached. Grabbed one of the most delicious mangos i've ever eaten and gulped it down on the fly; the juices running down my chin. Arusha isn't really safe for walking at night so i wanted to get some food very close to my hotel and head in. As i made my way home, I walked through a market and decided i would just make my own dinner. Avocado, tomatoes, cheddar cheese, crackers. Yum!!!

The tanzanians at the hotel (i am the only foreigner as far as i can tell) think i'm weird and hilarious. The giggling is mildly annoying but i probably am funny in my attempts at swahili and in my sign language and not knowing how to do simple things like wash my hands (the faucet is apparently just for show - you pour water from a bucket but have you ever poured water on your own hands?). They all sorta stare open-mouthed. Especially as i ate my picnic dinner in the cafe. It is disconcerting but fine.

Now i'm off to bed. My safari driver will pick me up at 8:15. I am super excited. Almost too excited to sleep but here goes.

wilds!

2008-02-24T23:44:00.000-08:00

Hi all - just a quick note - woke up this morning to a beautiful sunrise on Kilamanjaro. I'm in Moshi, a little outfitter town right at the base of the mountain. I came here for just one day at the recommendation of a friend i made in Dar. It is a very quiet town free of a lot of the street hustlers of Arusha and Dar - people trying desperately to convince you that their safari company is the best. It's been great here; I juat wanted one day free of being marketted and sold to - a day i can just chat with folks.

I walked down to the market and grabbed some corn on the cob, roasted on coals. Then proceeded to wander the market. I wound up sitting at a corner bar and perhaps it was the shock of a tourist in this local eatery at sundown but i couldn't really ever manage to order any food or drink. But i did talk with Muhamed Ali for a while. Somewhat unexplainedly he introduced me to his sister (who obviously had NO interest in meeting me) so i don't know what that was about. The language barrier is always interesting. And my grasp of swahili is limited to various greetings, thank you, and goodbye. Not the stuff of deep conversation.

My bus ride north was good; lush green scenery, dark red soil and thus dark red houses, colorfully clad and unclad people working the fields. I saw miles of yucca planted in rows, banana groves, coconut palmeries, scrub bushes, and finally in the north volcanic mountains rising from the plains.

Sunburn, crackers, random thoughts.

2008-02-23T00:14:00.000-08:00

Well just so you don't think it's all work and no play here at Latipedea; today I went to Dar's South Beach. I spent about four hours playing, lounging, and relaxing in the sun. Tourquoise water and white sand beach with little palm thatched huts and schoolchildren walking home along the beach. Lovely. Downside: I swear I put on sunscreen but I may have foolishly gotten a sunburn on my face and chest. Or maybe it will fade to a nice tan - guess I'll know tomorrow.

[Night-time update: Ouch! Though it could be worse. Face is mostly ok, top of one foot and both thighs are definitely burnt. You should see the red/white tan line where my shorts ended! Like an American flag. And apparently my hair is long enough that i PARTED it! So i got a good scalp burn. That hasn't ever happened before. Perhaps a haircut is due.]

I had a blast tonight at a live drumming and dance performance. I saw wedding dances from three different tribal areas and a whole lot of festive drumming. The women at one point even danced with flaming gourds on their heads! The performance was outside of course. I wish Seattle had more outdoor art. Not the sculpture park but more performance and interactive art.

Ok. Bear with me a moment as i analize what i'm easting. I forgot to take my anti-malarial at lunch so i'm taking it now which means two things. First, i have to be upright for another hour (so that it doesn't accidentally creep into the esophagus and scald it. Second that i need to have some food (to prevent bad things in my belly). Doesn't it sound like a lovely pill to injest daily for 17 weeks?

So I'm doing a little snacking - also i really wanted peanut butter. And this isn't Jif. This is 100% ground up peanuts. Which is delicious - don't even get me started on how bad i think sugared pb is, but this is thick so you do need to spread it on something. So i wanted a cracker.

The store mostly had sweet biscuits but i found one salty cracker: Saltcrax. Not only "slow baked" but the tag line is "bites of creativity". They look like ritz but there ends the similarity. Remember that elven bread in the Lord of the Rings? Lembas it was called and through special elvish ways one bite is like a meal. I've found some! Instead of light and flaky saltcrax went the more dense and heavy route. The manufacturer promises "the more you eat - the more you want' but i would like to offer the following. Pringles say 'bet you can't eat just one', saltcrax should say 'dare you to try and eat five!'.

Next we move to the side of the box: a cracker is pictured with adjectives pointing to various parts. We have the aforementioned 'slow baked'. Followed by 'crisp and fresh', 'mouthwatering delicious', 'best ingredients guaranteed', and finally 'enjoyed as is or all dressed up'. Perhaps dressed as the serving suggestion on the back. This shows a saltcrax with a thin slice of lemon, topped with some cream cheese, and perch a slice of California roll sushi on that. Garnish with ginger. Mmmmm, actually looks really good.

Included in the best ingredients are invert syrup, another new raising agent acid sodium pyrophosphate, golden syrup, and flour improver sodium metabisulphite. Thankfully i have chemist friends.

Oh to top off my meal i'm havinging my third glass of guava, pineapple, papaya, mango, peach juice. I do love the tropics! At lunch i splurged on a Fanta and they only had passionfruit flavor. Yum.

Which segues into another observation. Africa really is the home of the pepsi generation. And i actually find myself secumbing to the desire. At home i have soda what 20 times a year (not including mixers)? But here the pretty glass coke and pepsi bottles are everywhere! In Egypt, you meet someone and they say "come have tea". Here it is "want to go get a coke?"

So i am going to remember this tomorrow - i don't need to be drinking that stuff. Especially not when i sweat a gallon each day - perhaps water is what i need. Or with the availability of amazing fruit - i should be having juice.

I'm also trying to remember my normal dietary choices. I choose to be fishetarian for a reason and even after my carnivorous experimentation it still makes sense and i'd like to work back to that. Obviously i won't starve myself or eat only bread and peanut butter. I also won't offend someone who has cooked for me. And i still intend to sample local fare. But in a restaurant in the city there is no reason. I actually had a really tasty veggie burger today. :)

Swahili and politics

2008-02-21T22:46:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone. So Dar is great! My only complaints are that it's a little pricey (for Africa obviously, still cheap) and today when the power downtown failed, all of the shops plugged into generators and air quality dropped like a stone. But i love the heat - he writes at 11pm when he finally stops sweating. And the people are great.

It's funny sortof: most places the taxis meander around and you flag them down. Here they are all parked (and unmarked - just regular vehicles) and they offer their services. Constantly. I can't take 50 paces without someone offering me a taxi ride. Either no one walks or maybe no foreigners walk or this is just hopeful marketing. But a quick 'no' wave or "walking today" is enough to get some peace. Really it likely saves on gas and pollution to keep the cars parked. And then the drivers can relax and chat.

And everyone around wants to teach me swahili. I've learned some of the varying greetings and responses. Unfortunately their appear to be 20 or so common ones. "Hijambo/Sijambo" is the most useful greeting so far. Something like 'how are you/i'm fine'. Or 'poa' which means 'good'.

And the people here are beautiful. Men, women, children there are a ton of very attractive people walking around.

Had a delicious fish in coconut sauce for lunch today. Happily for me the restaurant was all communal seating. The first guys to sit with me either only really spoke swahili or just weren't interested in chatting with me but i savored my fish for a long time and some other guys sat at my table. We had a good long talk. Much of it about president Bush.

He was just here a few days ago.

Tangent: in a moment of life imitating The Simpsons the security in Arusha was extreme during Mr. Bush's visit to a textile plant there. And within a few hours of his departure all of the us security was gone and most of the security forces were off duty and there was a sudden rash of burglaries. Something like 10 houses were stripped clean.

So back to Mr. Bush's visit. It is weird to walk around and see signs and posters thanking the president (the US just pledged a huge [$698Million] grant to combat both AIDS and malaria). One of them said "your excellency Mr. Bush". And they all have a picture of him from 8 years ago. Remember how young he looked in 1999? Among people here he certainly has a higher approval rating than at home or even in texas.

Which is a stark change from Egypt. Now most of you know that i do not think highly of the current administration for a number of reasons. But i am somewhat impressed on the African policy. The US is spearheading a number of good programs. They are really working against malaria and in a seemingly mostly intelligent and even sometimes environmentally responsible way. The US contribution to antiretrovirals against AIDS makes the clinton contribution pale in comparrison. And though likely there are some (proven ineffective) abstinence-only clauses attached, Al Gore personnally worked against the availability of generic AIDS medication. Something I will likely never forgive.

So after the foreign policy attrocity that is the mideast i have to give some credit on the sub-saharan africa policies.

Grabbed a copy of 'The Citizen' (www.thecitizen.co.tz) today; an english language paper published in Dar. So take these headlines with some skepticism as i don't know much about media independence here. Apparently there were nine arrests for an alledged terrorist plot to coincide with the president's visit. The opposition party in kenya is threatening to resume the street protests - the ones that led to hundreds of deathds and displaced tens of thousands There was some pre-election violence in a province in Tanzania which has led the opposition party to call out their (seriously they are called this) red brigade youth wing to protect their interests. Great. And the president of Malawi suspended the parlimentary session. Don't worry, i'll be hyper-aware of the situation before i enter the country. And finally a pretty big show of support for Barrack Obama who's father is Kenyan.

So Kenya was a showcased model of african democracy until two months ago when the election debacle started.. Now as they try to rise from that with new hope, there are a lot of comparisons made to Mr. Obama's rise to frontrunner. Though I will say that everyone in Egypt was following the race closely and here there is only a vague knowledge that it is Mr. Bush's last term.

I'm still working out a safari plan. You'd think i'd be done since literally everyone in town (seriously including the hotel policeman) runs a safari company. Most are not to be trusted.

Other common scams i've heard about: street vendors that want to give you a better exchange rate than the banks. These guys will ALWAYS rob you. Worse in my mind are the fake taxi drivers who hand you something seconds before a fake policeman arrives to 'see' you in posession of something banned.

Aaaah, keeps me on my toes.

Tonight i'm off to see some traditional drumming at a nearby artist collective. I hope its great.

Finally warm!

2008-02-21T00:59:00.000-08:00

So in many ways Dar is just as I expected. A bit touristy. It's hot (31c = 87f) and sticky and only barely removed from nature. I set down some food for not 30 seconds before these little ants came from Nowhere and threatened to carry me off with them. Speaking of food they have peanut butter here! I'm eating it on some biscuits which would be good if they didn't Taste like the preservative. If anyone wants to research how bad ammonium bicarbonate is for me i'll avoid it if possible.

I'm in a nice room (too nice as the singles were all booked so i'm in a suite. Paying more than i would like though a cool shower before bed sounds excellent.

The plane ride was uneventful and actually quelled my fears somewhat. It was about 1/3 European and American tourists and if they can do it, i can do it.

The visa process was similarly uneventful - nothing seemed to happen - ever. We were herded forward, watched my passport and $100 cash disappear, and was then herded forward again to what turned out to be a holding pen. No fewer than 7 people sat on the other side of the glass and though at times they seemed busy it was impssible to see rhyme or reason to the process. About two hours of standing later i hear my name and go forward. Here they take a digital picture and actually print out a visa with my likeness. Pretty cool - though I look somewhat surly.

Dar is quite pretty - lots of big shade trees line the streets and there is very little of the hectic bustle of cairo or tunis. The nearest internet servce is the "Alpha dry cleaning and internet cafe" though they "had no signal today maybe try tomorrow...".

I will try to get some sleep under my mosquito net and fan but the heat is oppressive. Not complaining, mind you. I'm glad to finally be in hot Africa. This has got to be the farthest south i've ever been. OOoh the sun traverses the northern sky now doesn't it? Exciting. I've never seen that!

It's like a sleepover at the UN!

2008-02-19T16:40:00.000-08:00

I am very frustrated with Tunisia right now. Well with Tunis, mostly. The rural areas were a bit better though still not nearly as engaging as Egypt. I really hate to write off a whole nation based on the actions of a few individuals (and ultimately I won't) but I am having a very rough time with the self-centered, lying, and utterly annoying actions of the "Let's be friends for money" crowd.

But I hate to start a post with only complaints so let me take a moment to describe a good experience. I left my hotel this morning and, per usual, took a new and random direction out the door. Once a certain distance from my hotel I elected to follow my nose (the seasoned explorer's best tool) and it led me to find a frenetic and cacophanous fish market. A pervasive fish odor that clings to you - on your clothing sure, but also in your nose and maybe in your brain. A constant barage of arabic - the enthusiasm is addictive regardless of my incomprehension of the language. People are feeling the fish and examining the goods for any defect, there are scales flying, knives being sharpened and then flash! a fillet is made. Chop! chop! and there are thick steaks lying on the board. About fifty stands selling mainly the usual fare: saba, squid, tuna, rockfish, roughy, something resembling perch. But also swordfish and these little conch shell mollusks. Are shellfish halal? I'd assumed they weren't because they aren't kosher. Actually, are squid kosher?

I don't know but i do know squid are delicious! At this moment i wanted a kitchen so badly. But alas i only plan to be in Tunis another day so any investment in a portable kitchen seems silly; thus i move on.

The next room is more useful to me: cheese! And sausage. I taste some crumbly, herbed slice and indicate 'about two dinar sîl vous plait'. I recieve my juicy, baseball-sized hunk and walk away salivating.

Room three is a rainbow of color. Bright oranges, apples, pears, dilectable dates, strawberries dripping crimson, pale green lettuce, squash the color of an autumn sunset.

And finally bread. I gather a round loaf of maybe olive and garlic and a flat loaf resembling polenta. And walk out smiling into the day with my treasures in hand.

So back to my frustration: here in the city, i have had the following conversation about five times a day:
I am walking along observing the cafe culture and someone appears beside me. I am usually hyper-aware of people matching my pace so I must give credit where due, these guys are good! It is an almost magical appearance.
They start the interaction thus, "[something unintelligible in French]"
I respond in one of three ways: "eh?", "Pardon, je parle frances tres mal." or "non". It really doesn't matter what I say, today I tried responding with silence and once with "nyet" and once with "oh not another one". But I am just a canvas for their art and my response is truly unimportant.
"Oh, You speak english? I SPEAK ENGLISH TOO!!"
"Oh...wonderful, how do you do"
"Is it your first time in Tunisia?"
"Yes it is, it's a beautiful country"
"Welcome, we are glad to have you here, what's your name?"
"I'm Joshua. And you are?"
[gives name] Hands shake. "what hotel are you at?"
Lately I'm answering with cheaper and cheaper dives to give the impression that I am really unable to afford even a light in my room let alone a toilet.
This banter continues as long as my patience. Sometimes they offer to help me find something, Sometimes "have you seen the medina", "have you had tunisien beer yet" "oh you were in Douz!! Camels and the desert", "You haven't been to Carthage yet? Oh you must go"
The first three times I really thought wow, the Tunisians really are gregarious. They seem to like meeting people and talking and I'm glad to get to know anyone here.
Occasionally it will turn to "Here come have a coffee with me?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I am just on my way to run an errand, I can't, but it's been lovely to talk to you"
"Oh, ... say can you help me out with some money for my [car, sandwich, sending a letter to my girlfriend in America who lives in whatever town you are from] "
Ummmmmmmmmmm, no.
I swear that in a fifteen minute walk up and down Ave Habib Burguiba, I had no fewer than five people come up with the exact same smile and story and can I have some money since I talked to you. It is so frustrating.

Why do I still play into it? Optimism, friendliness, the desire for company.

I am not walking around like a rich, self-posessed, holier than thou, step out of my way peasant, sort of attitude, either. I am dressed poorer than the people accosting me. Yes, by comparison to some I am likely very wealthy (as are all of you reading this - check here) and I am obviously able to take six months off work and fly around the world and fly around the continent and stay in hotels and everything else. Yes, I understand that this sort of mentality in the locals is caused by the tourists. It is caused by the existance of so many "I'm on vacation so you should serve me and fulfill my every command" tourists. It is caused by positive reinforcement of gratuitous amounts of money being available from wealthy tourists both flaunting and using their money for subservience; but I am so utterly sick of it. I have not met one person in Tunisia who is honestly, sincerely wanting to just talk for a bit without some alterior motive. Ok except for one cab driver who was extremely helpful, making sure I understood where the ticket office was and oh, the fare for the 2km was just a small bit so whatever you'd like to pay is fine.

I am ready to move on. It is with some melancholy that I leave the country without a single good acquaintance, but I am resigned to that inevitability.

Today i fly to Doha, Qatar, have a twelve hour layover and then to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania. Anyone have any good places to kill a few hours in Doha? It'll be the middle of the night so i may not leave the airport but who knows; it would be fun to add Qatar to my "layover countries": Countries i have been in for fewer than 24 hours and can't say i've really visited but have at least left the airport (currently france and the netherlands).

So I realize suddenly that it has been one month since I left home so i feel i should recap some things. Mostly lessons learned and things about which I find i was wrong.

First, being in a country where English is so rarely spoken I take back everything I said about the subjunctive. I have grown to appreciate my native tongue just because I am so poor at other languages. I'm sure my teachers would point out that I am quite imperfect at this one as well: "Really another paranthetical, and another subordinate clause, and dear god not another hyphen!". Subjunctive, I am sorry. Or, I would be sorry, if you were able to understand sorrow and not just a tense. Is that even what you are? A tense?

Second, Never trust a guidebook to be accurate. I find it a comforting security blanket to have but the second i rely on the information in my guidebook, i am in for a rude awakening. Very little has been truly accurate. And a number of things are just downright ludicrous. Including the US Embassy not being 2km away but something closer to 8...

Third, I miss a few things dearly: Julie, my kitties, a bathtub, knowing where to buy simple things like butter, a fast internet connection, my pillow, frisbee, a Rainier in the backyard chatting with the neighbors.

Fourth, some things I am glad to be without: my mobile phone, that sneaking feeling that i should really be out mowing the grass or pulling weeds or cleaning the bathroom or some other chore. And I am able to survive with very few things. I have one bag (Emmeline, the same bag i brought to New Orleans that you thought was amazingly small for 5 days...) and could honestly have left a few things behind.

I really like a few things I've seen and hope to incorporate them in my life back home.
1. The arabic headscarf. Useful, fasionable, versitile. Except on domestic flights...
2. The double or quadruple cheek kiss. Expect that one to come out after a few drinks.
3. Halvah. I was so obsessed with this stuff back when I was vegan and I've rediscovered it. This is a thick, sweet tahini (sesame seed) based dessert(?) often with pistachios or almonds. SOO GOOD!
4. Crepes. 'nuff said.
5. Driving maneuvers. Ok, i won't actually bring this back with me but it is an art the way the taxis manage to navigate between people, animals, vehicles at nearly full speed and with surprisingly few collisions.

So as I finish this post I have travelled to Doha International Airport in Qatar. It is amazing to spend the night here - much like a sleepover party at the UN! There are people here from Everywhere. Qatari Airlines is lovely; friendly, good planes, I watched "3:10 to Yuma" and "Across the Universe" on the flight over Egypt and Saudi Arabia. There are sleeping rooms and a huge prayer room and really at least one representative from everywhere it seems. Oh and the wi-fi is free though the french fries will cost you 12 riyal, payable in most currancies - OH i should see if they accept my Egyptian Pounds (though maybe I'll go back sometime as I've recently heard of a lovely Beduin camp in the Sinai).

But for now I am focussed on my next steps. Please send me some good thoughts - I feel that I could use them.

Love and gratitude, josh

disclaimer and the worth of travel

2008-02-18T02:03:00.000-08:00

Hello all

So it seems that I am beginning the inevitable descent from purely an observer into an editorialist. I am beginning to feel comfortable in my knowledge and experience here and i start to make connections. I hope that this actually makes the posts more interesting though it will also make them more controvercial. So here I believe that a disclaimer/clarifier is due.

First off, you must understand that my ability to blog is a luxury. I try very hard to not bring out my computer in public. Two reasons; first that it distracts me from the real goal of experiencing Africa and its peoples, second that it further encourages the image of me as the rich American. Now it is true that by comparison I am the rich American but it is something I try to downplay and I think the scraggly beard and dusty clothes do their bit to help. The result is that my posts here are both overly-concise and somewhat unedited.

Therefore, and due to the vastness of the world, I deal in generalizations. Don't we all? There are exceptions to every rule and subtlties that I can't begin to fathom in such a short time. So I apologize for those shortcomings right now. Believe me it is not something I find comfortable. At home i rail against stereotypes and generalizations and i will do my best even here to recognize individual acts vs. rules of thumb.

I come at Africa from my own personal background with ingrained predjudice and with a viewpoint tainted by 31 years of experiences, media, beliefs, etc.

So please take my posts as what they are: the stream of consciousness ramblings of a sleep-deprived, western-educated, early-thirties, ex-midwestern, American with ex-pat dreams. This is not a cop-out "present company excluded", but the recgnition that i can't always mention the exceptions or even clarify when i am talking about the minority.

So when I post that the midwest has car culture, fast food, and shopping as a hobby this is not to say that is all there is. But there are some people who shop not because they need something but rather because they need something to do. You can see them at 'the mall' any Friday evening. I do not believe it to be my place to judge the relative worth of this 'hobby' but it is always something I found frustrating when I lived within that as a cultural norm.

And if you don't believe in either the existance or the detrimental result of car-focused culture and urban planning, email me as i have the metrics to prove it.

So when i post (as i do below) that i think everyone should hold a passport, it is what it is: my opinion on the psychological significance of the document. I won't ask you not to take offense because perhaps I offend on purpose, but take offense in a way that thinks critically about my editorial.

I hope to hold on to most of my readership even as i fall from scientific observer to polemical hack as I think there are at least a few of you out there and I seem less crazy if someone reads what i write.

Here ends the boring fine print...

So after a long and cold bus ride I am back in Tunis. I elected to take the 9pm bus from Douz, reasoning that a nine-hour bus ride would get in around 6am. Grab some breakfast and check in early to a hotel. I figure the night bus is less crowded, i'll get some sleep, save myself a hotel room for the night. So i dressed as warmly as I could, wrapped myself in both of my headscarves and burrowed into the seat. I was right that the bus was nearly empty though as uncomfortable as ever. And cold! I did get a few hours sleep before we arrived at 5:30am. I elected to wait in the bus station for sunrise rather than walk around finding a hotel in the pitch dark. I managed to navigate successfully toward downtown and even recognized a street name from my earlier visit to Tunis.

I switched hotels based on a conversation with a Frenchman in Douz and am I ever glad! The Grande Hôtel de France was once quite a lovely place. Even now its fading glory is quite nice; high ceilings, tile floor, a little balcony out to the courtyard. Even a desk and phone in my room!

I'm doing some research on safari operators in Tanzania as trying to see the parks with public transit and self guiding doesn't seem possible - more money and less chance of seeing what you want. But I think the plan will be to get across from Dar Es Salaam to the south-western border quickly. From there I walk across a bridge and hopefully get into Malawi - a small counrty of 12 million bordered by Tanzania, Zambia, and Mozambique. I am looking at two little islands on giant Lake Malawi where I can hopefully disappear for a bit. The ferry runs once northbound and once southbound per week.

My French continues to improve (from 'attrocious' to merely 'awful' and hopefully it will be only 'bad' soon). I managed to have some interesting conversation with the aforementioned Frenchman and his Columbian girlfriend. It took our combined English, French, Spanish, Italian, and maybe even some German. Good times! We were watching the world news and conversing about our agreed position on the importance of leaving home and seeing things that are unfamiliar. I really feel that it is important to have a passport. Even if you aren't using it I think that it helps locate you in the world. I recognize that not everyone has the time or inclination to go travel for an extended period and even that there are plenty of varied and interesting places within the US, but I still think that having a passport just helps you see what else is out there.

In other news, Mr. Bush (unconfirmed rumor has it he didn't have a passport prior to the presidency - not editorializing, just repeating the facts as they were told to me) proceeded me yesterday into Tanzania. I hope that he paves the way well for me. Perhaps I should check his schedule so he doesn't think I am following him. Ms. Rice is here somewhere as well.

Listening: My computer is having problems playing the music I brought with me and is only able to play the music i added during my trip. So Arabic and Balkan music it is.

Reading: Just picked up a copy of Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Books to get me in the mood.

OH and here is the baby camel as promised:

Imagine...

2008-02-15T08:03:00.000-08:00

So perhaps I was a bit harsh in my last post. Tunisia really is a lovely place. When the sun is out I feel like I have stumbled upon a piece of paradise. Unfortuneately someone else discovered it first and convinced everyone that fast food is the highest possible achievement. It really reminds me of the parts i dislike about the midwest: strip malls, car culture, fast and uninspired food, shopping as a hobby and a lifestyle and as entertainment. I know that America is supposed to be the great capitalist society where everything is for sale but there are shoe stores open here until 11pm. I couldn't find an art gallery or theatrical space in Sousse but the market is nearly always open. I had this same realization in Cairo: who needs to buy shoes at 10pm?!?

So anyway, I have left the coast and the cities and again find myself in an oasis in the desert. Douz is perched on the edge of the 'Great Oriental Erg'. The descriptions of the Sahara here are amazing. "Postcard perfect", "Once in a lifetime", etc. I plan on taking a camel trek overnight tomorrow.

...[Next day]...

So I have always heard that camels do not make the most comfortable mounts. For the first few minutes I thought that these warnings were all overblown. I figured that just like riding a horse it takes a little getting used to. One's body must get used to straddling instead of siting. After about ten minutes, however, I started to understand. There is no regularity in the rocking and I felt like i was eternally sliding forward into the camel's hump. I had a great time and though my tailbone and thighs may never be the same I'm very glad to have taken this trek.

I traveled with Andrew and Kerry from NYC and our guide Muhammed. A few hours walk by camel through the desert brough us to our campsite. This is not the high sands desert but a more scrub-brush area. It was a quiet and introspective trek as conversation from camel to camel is difficult. So i spent the time in contemplation and watching for the rare sightings of animals.

OOOhhh, there was a baby camel too. So cute. He came running up like a puppy and Kerry fed him a bottle of camel milk. I'll post a pic when i get to a better internet connection.

Dinner was delicious! An amazing chicken stew and bread baked directly in the sand and coals under the fire. We were all amazed but this flat round loaf of delicious bread came out without any sand on it at all. Something i want to try next time i camp on the beach!

So now I am back in Douz,...

Omg, i'm watching Al Jazeera coverage of a shooting spree at NIU (not far from my house in Illinois for those that don't know)!! I wish that people had the availability of psycological help to deal with issues without resorting to random killing! This is awful.

Its hard to watch the world news after having a break in the desert. Rebel attacks in N'Djamena have Chad in a state of emergency; assasinations in Thailand; more problems in East Timor; hezbollah and Israel on the brink of another deadly exchange. At least it seems as though Kenya is finally getting closer to peace.

So I head back to Tunis tomorrow to get ready for my trek south. I need to find some additional malaria medication and soak all of my clothes in an anti mosquito solution, premerthrin. I'm really hoping to avoid malaria - sounds completely awful.

I hope that everyone at home is safe and sound and let's all take a moment to hope just a bit for peace in all the world. Can we all just try to get along? Love to all, Joshua.

From desolation to desolation, loving every step

2008-02-13T02:17:00.000-08:00

So I leave Sousse today to go to Douz in the Tunisian desert. I am hoping to take a camel trek into the sands.

I am here in Tunisia in the low season. It is a fascinating time to be here.

It reminds me of an old battered up fairgrounds; where the garish neon lights try to make things seem festive but succeed only in casting enough light to see that the clown's make-up has run off and the house of horrors is fearful only in that it may fall apart at any moment. I've seen this before: in the French Quarter at 6am the day after Mardi Gras, in the vegas strip during daylight. And it often isn't pretty. There is a desperation among the people here that they should be vacationing but they just don't quite believe it. The magic disappears under the too close scrutiny.

But I have always liked these moments of seeing the truth behind the magic; seeing how the rabbit gets in the hat or how the girl is sawed in two. This picture serves to say a lot.

It is as though they turned off the fun until the warm weather brings back the Italian, Spanish, French tourists. And i can understand why. The beaches are beautiful, though with the number of jelly fish i saw on my walk today, perhaps they are better suited for sunning than for swimming. I am truly enjoying the emptiness, however. It is exactly what i needed as i finished recovering from my illness and planning my next adventure.

I believe that I will be heading to South East Africa shortly: Tanzania, Malawi, Mozambique. Here I should start to see some of those big animals in the wild. I'll be desperately avoiding the small animals like mosquitos and tsetse flies.

Remembering Siwa - final thoughts

2008-02-12T20:09:00.000-08:00

So I keep wanting to go back in my mind to my last few days in the Siwa oasis but i can't figure out how. My mind was so fuzzy for a few days and i fell out of my routine of writing my blog and every day new thoughts come and push Siwa further back.

If I'm going to get to it, it has to be now. So there are three groups in Islamic society and you have to fit in one of them; each with a defined rôle. Women, Men, Foreigners. In Siwa (a very traditional rural society), the men were everywhere. In the cafes, working in the palmaries, all over town. The women were almost invisible. They have quite the life at home, visiting each other and in many ways running the home (so i'm told), but they just do not exist in public. In siwa the women wear full hajib outside, no eye slit here, this is the full face/body/everything covering outfits. It actually took me a few days to even notice them sitting in the back of donkey carts, barely moving and looking almost like sacks. And then there are the foreigners who are not included in the same set of rules.

I met a fascinating young woman, Sevtap (turkish ancestry, german born) who fell outside these categories. She is a foreigner but by really getting to know the Siwans and by really having a deep respect for the local custom (and speaking moderate arabic) she moved out of the foreigner category and into the arab side. But being a woman in the man's world she really fell outside the norm. I don't think the Siwans quite knew what to think of her. We became friends by chance and she helped me see much more of Siwa than I otherwise could've. She introduced me to everyone in town and having been in Siwa before me knew all the good places in town. Her hotel is the second tallest structure (after the big mosque) in town so we went up there to be above the noise and dust and look down over the entire town square. She gave me some fabulous arabic language hip hop which will likely get airplay at my next dance party. Here's a picture from the roof of the 'shali' - an ancient fortress perched on a hill.

You really have a hard time seeing where the ancient mudbrick shali ends and the current mudbrick dwellings begin.

The next day we took bicycles and went out to a huge salt lake nearby to sit in the cool breezes. It is really amazing to see the completely arid desert next to a huge lake. Part of the fun was avoiding the roving children in the countryside yelling out "Hello, hello, hello". If you slow down there is no escaping and you end up playing pied piper to 20 children.

Sevtap also introduced me to her friend, Ari, a wonderful old soul living in Siwa. I managed to get an invitation to come sit in his garden where I ate dates from his trees and had a fabulous afternoon of meditation as the sun set.

Siwa was such a peaceful space perched on the edge of nothingness and sand. I have always had a fear of the small rural town - a place like siwa which is so extremely small where everyone knows you and knows your business, where nothing is private; but there is a peace to having everyone also watch out for you. I don't think i'm quite ready to give up on urban life yet, but perhaps one day it will call me.

So i want to contrast this with two girls i met back in Cairo before getting on my plane to Tunis. These were two tall blonde girls from Florida. They knew they could never blend in and embraced that completely. They would firmly be in the foreigner camp in Islamic society but that camp does allow a lot of freedom. They would never have the integration into society that Sevtap does though the Egyptian people were extremely wecoming and accepting of foreigners (and there are a lot of us). Like I say, as a man I really have no way of ever seeing the women's world but I was certainly welcomed by the men in every town and every bus and most every walk. Honestly, I had to sometimes pretend not to speak English if i wanted any space from new friends.

Getting to know me...

2008-02-12T09:35:00.000-08:00

I got this forward from a friend today and figured it might be a fun blog post. Also hadn't written anything better...

Welcome to the 2008 edition of getting to know your friends. You are supposed to COPY (not forward) this entire e-mail and paste it into a new e-mail that you will send. Change all the answers so they apply to you and send it to your friends, to include the person who sent it to you. The theory behind this is that you will learn some of the little things about your friends that you might not know.

1. What time did you get up this morning? 2am to take a dose of cough syrup, 7am due to anxiety dreams about malaria, 8am for real.

2. Diamonds or Pearls? I don't have either but prefer pearls overall, or lab-grown diamonds. Which are just cool!

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? JuNun, an arabic language film about a younger manic depressive guy, his horribly dysfunctional family, and his older female social worker. Interesting but not fabulous.

4. What is your favorite TV show? "Chuck", I guess. Does television still exist?

5. What do you usually have for breakfast? Nothing is usual. Today I had coffee and both a cheese and chocolate croissant. Tasty, not healthy.

6. What is your middle name? Seth

7. What food do you like the least? Currently sick of tunafish. In all its forms.

8. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Do CDs still exist. I'm listening to some remixed music from the balkans.

9. What kind of car do you drive? foot, train, minibus, taxi. The shared taxis in Tunisia are great. You find one going in a general direction you want to go and for about $0.35 you just get in with anyone else that will fit and you all get out when you want. Quite efficient and super cheap. Sitll wish i spoke French...

10. Favorite Sandwich? grilled cheese or fried egg. it's a tie. Honestly anything that isn't tuna would be great. Though maybe it should be my goal to introduce the Arab world to the fried egg sandwich. Oh and I would give anything for some PBJ right now.

11. What characteristic do you despise? Life is honestly too short for despise. I do not like dishonesty however.

12. Favorite item of clothing? clean socks. Ok, clean anything would be great right now.

13. If you could go anywhere in the world for vacation, where would you go? Everyday is a vacation. Though I would love to be in Miami beach.

14. What color is your bathroom? At home it is seriously called "midnight hush". Here it is tiled in white and magenta.

15. What is your favorite brand of clothing? I love my new Keens. Knock on wood no blisters, feet feeling good.

16. Where would you retire? Some little town in Italy. With a boat.

17. What was your most recent memorable birthday? All of them. The last one was fun (dressed as a dalmation) the previous one was great, so where the five before that. My birthday is always fun!

18. Favorite sport to watch? Any as long as i can drink a beer and watch (or not watch) with friends.

19. Furthest place you are sending this? I'm in Tunisia so i think most everyone is equidistant.

20. Who do you least expect to send this forward? I think I'll post it on my blog so i don't expect anyone to forward it.

21. Who do you expect to send it back first? Same as above

22. Favorite saying? Salaam Aleykum because it's really the best Arabic I know. Also 'ciao' as it doesn't signal an ending or a goodbye so much as a hope to see again.

23. When is your birthday? December 11, 1976.

24. Are you a morning person or night person? I love them both. I just don't always love the daytime. 3am is my favorite time.

25. Are you a part of the problem or the solution? I tend to be part of the solution, though that is sometimes a problem.

26. Do you have any pets? Yes, two cats , Dyno Xavier Faux 38 "Dyno" and Abbigail Dolce Absynthe Pelkee "Abby".I miss them terribly. I wonder if Julie has a new fish yet?

27. Any new and exciting news you would like to share with us? I intend to head deep into the heart of Africa soon. Tanzania, Malawi, Mozambique. I'm excited about it.

28. What did you want to be when you were little? I don't remember really. Maybe I never wanted to be anything. I still sortof like that as a career path.

29. How are you today? Better now. I'm having a lovely day in the sunshine. Writing a lot and present in my head.

30. What is your favorite candy? I don't love candy though there are these anise flavored candies here that seem to make my throat feel nice.

31. What is your favorite flower? Perhaps Tulip.

32. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? April 20 I get to see Julie!!

33. {Boring question deleted}

34. What are you listening to right now? Artist unknown, Unbekanntes Albumn - music from Sevtap.

35. Do you wish on stars? yes, stars, yellow lights, 10:10, 11:11, really anything I can. It can't hurt and might be useful.

36. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? I currently feel like one of those crayons that has been in the drawer so long it has a little bit of every color all mixed together, the wrapper has long since disappeared so who knows what it started as, now it is a blend of everything. I always liked those crayons.

37. How is the weather right now? Sunny and cool. If i stand I can see the medeterranian (but i can't spell it)

38. What is your favorite soft drink? Mr. Pibb

39. What is your favorite restaurant? I would so love to just cook some kale and a salmon at home right now.

40. Natural hair color? Black as night

41. Siblings? Older Brother, Aaron; Younger Brother, Nathan

42. Favorite day of the year? My birthday. What else?

43. What was your favorite toy as a child? I really liked the toy space shuttle, and my legos, and building forts out of cushions or trees or anything aaron and i could move. Also water balloons (and explosives) with Nathan Legue. Good times!

44. Summer or Winter? Summer. Though Spring and Fall are great too. I hate winter.

45. Hugs or Kisses? Hugs 4 ever!

46. Coffee or tea? Both. The coffee here is better than the tea so i'll take that.

47. Chocolate or Vanilla? vanilla ice cream, chocolate cake.

48. Do you want your friends to email back? I always love emails from my friends. I wonder what is going on back home.

49. When was the last time you cried? not today yet.

50. What is under your bed? Home all sorts of crap. Here nothing, I hope.

51. Who is the friend you have had the longest? I've known Brian and Matt and Nathan since 3rd grade.

52. What did you do last night? After a tasty dinner out I went to my room quite early. Read all about Senegal and started to plan for Julie's arrival there. Read about tanzania and tried to work out a way to get through from Dar Es Salaam to Lilongwe, Malawi. Then i realized I didn't bring nearly enough Doxycycline (anti-malarial) so i worried about that for a bit. I wrote some emails and played too much MahJong.

53. What is your favorite smell? The Ocean. Oh, and freshly mown grass.

54. What are you afraid of losing? Passport, My computer (connection home), my center. I think it is good to push myself off center, but i do fear sometimes that i may not find it again.

55. Salty or sweet? In potato form, I love it all.

56. How many keys are on your key ring? The hotel room key. But it isn't my key ring.

57. How many years at your current job? Does meandering count as a job? I am happily funemployed right now.

58. Favorite day of the week? Do days of the week still exist. I have no idea which one it is now. And i don't feel like looking.

59. How many friends will respond? I average about 2 comments per blog so I would imagine that stays the same.

2008-02-10T05:22:00.000-08:00

I left Tunis yesterday to begin my exploration down the coast. First stop: Sousse. A lively little town with a small, but active, medina. My hotel is just inside, literally 2 meters from the ancient medina wall. I'm taking advantage of the rooftop deck to rise above the hustle and bustle of trade below.

So I am quickly approaching one month into my travels. Here is a self-portrait I took so you can see how I've changed.

Lets check in about goals. So far I have successfully avoided prison, hospital, abduction, ingestion. I have been somewhat unsuccessful at staying healthy - but it sounds like this cold is traveling among my friends at home so perhaps there was no avoiding it. Of course i spoke too soon about having an iron stomach as well but nothing serious. I have met a ton of fascinating people: from perenial travelers, to intriguing Egyptians at home, to worldly citizens at home anywhere.

I am surviving challenges, taking risks, and doing well at being self-responsible and not geting ripped off. I would like to work on taking action without pausing - I still overthink things.

I have seen some amazing wonders though my wish-list of animals is as big as ever. I need to head south sometime to go see lions and giraffes and hippos. In fact there is very little wildlife here at all. Not even lizards which you see around most of the medeteranian. Too many feral cats i guess.

Even in French, tunafish is tunafish

2008-02-07T19:09:00.000-08:00

Back from dinner. I had been past this place called Noir et Blanc at lunchtime and it was packed! So I figured that the food must be ok. I went for dinner and ordered the penne putenesca thinking something safe and easy and pasta would help my belly (you try coughing 800 times a day for a week and see if your belly is happy). I should've been a bit warned when they said it would have to be spaghetti. What arrived was passably good but certainly never was or would become, putenesca. Two olives, some soft queso-type cheese, a tomato puree sauce flavored with the ubiquitous chili sauce harrissa and a can of tunafish. Stir over heat and serve over spaghetti.

Palermo is probably a 3 hour boat ride from here. Almost enough to make me cry...

But my belly is happy to have food in it. I think it is at least. I seem to have lost the 'hunger' response. I eat because I know that I need to have food but my body is not really telling me that it is hungry. I assume that this will return as I get healthy.

Regarding my health, my head is more and more clear all the time. I'm sleeping a ton and drinking water. I think that i'm on the mend finally for real.

This is great news because I kept jotting down notes of things to blog about, observations I've made but I couldn't find the energy or clarity to think or write at all. I will have to go back and catch you up on the final days of Siwa and my thoughts on many things: Gender Roles in an Islamic society, Progressive price structures, Myths and Rumors (probably true) regarding sexuality and the traditional practices among rural Egyptians, Localized manufacturing or Why Chiclets taste different here, Theorum and practicality in terms of blending in, City Mosque-Country Mosque (a study of the role of class in the practice of religion), government corruption as a way of life.

Most of the in-depth stuff here will have to wait as I still feel myself too ignorant, too naieve to do more than record my observations. Analysis must come later.

But for now: bed calls. So just one quick story. Some years back the Egyptian government decided to install some traffic signals in Cairo. I can picture the hubbub of officials as they are turned on at an official ceremony. Afterward they are promptly and routinely ignored by all. So police officers were hired to control traffic at key busy intersections. There they stand underneath the still working traffic signals with a whistle stopping first one direction, then the other. I'm told that if you're in a hurry, you just call the guy over, slip him a five and the 'light' changes immediately.

Resurfacing

2008-02-07T18:06:00.000-08:00

Hello again, I hope that you are all still there. I am back after a too long hiatus into illness. My brain went away for a bit, and though I saw lots of things I wanted to relate to you, I couldnt formulate words very well. I am still not all here, so please excuse the poor descriptions, lack of insight, and general unstructured approach to these updates.

As I wrote last time, I am in a new country, Tunisia. 9.8M people in 164,000 sq km. As much as Egypt is considered more the Middle East than it is Africa, Tunisia is more Medeterranian than Africa. It is the site of ancient Phoenecian city of Carthage which was then lost to Rome and then to the Byzantines. In the 7th century the Arabs arived and finally the French established rule in 1881.

It is a land of tourism resorts lining captivating beaches. I am hoping to find some out of the way pocket, hole up for a bit near the water and write. But first I am spending a few days to really recover. Flying with a head cold is never fun. And extrapolating from my flight, I have to assume that flying EgyptAir is never enjoyable. So combining the two was horrific.

Two Plusses and a Minus:

1) So I managed to book a room in a hotel in French. Only a few of you have ever truly heard me butcher this language so the rest will have to imagine it yourself. I always claim that my Chicago accent rivals directly with the vowel-heavy round-mouthed lexicon of French. But regardless, it is bad. Combine that with my sometimes deathly fear of telephones (stemming from my poor hearing) and calling someone in French was quite an accomplishment so allow me some self-congratulation.

2) Successfully avoided the taxi touts this time. I had not been successful at Cairo Airport and fell into one of the many scams you hear about. Here, I have learned to be ... well, rude. Not a natural skill for this good-ole boy from the heartland. I can find my own taxi thank you very much and without a commission for you. Overall my ability to navigate foreign cities, airports, etc has improved greatly.

3) And a minus. Apparently the Egyptian Pound (EGP) is not a ´world currancy´ meaning that it is pretty much useless outside of Egypt. I had intended to arrive at the airport with plenty of time to change it to US dollar but with a string of errors (my taxi being late, agreeing with someone from the hostel that she could share the cab, myriad problems she brought along, etc) I sort of ran out of time. So hopefully I can change it, Somewhere, or else I guess I am ready for the next time that I come!!

It is so funny: within Egypt the (EGP) bills could be ratty and torn but they would definately not take a USD if the corner was ripped off. It seemed like canadian and british currancy was in-between (some use was ok but not a wrinkled mess). But upon leaving, the nicest EGP bill is nothing more than paper and a creased up $5 note is still worth something.

Anyway, I am feeling quite a bit better after the bathhouse (will describe later) and getting some orange juice and water for my room. Now I am off to dinner.

Tunis

2008-02-07T01:49:00.000-08:00

Hi all.
It has been a few days and I wanted to at least give a short note to say that i am still alive. I am still battling my cough; now in French, in Tunis - the capitol of Tunisia. I am headed off to the Hammam (bathhouse) to see if the steam doesn't help clear things out. I have cough syrup and echinacia and vapo-rub galore and I will go see the doctor if i'm not feeling much improved by tomorrow.

With any luck, more tomorrow.

Delirium in the desert

2008-02-02T13:47:00.000-08:00

I think that I am still here. In the oasis,. In the desert. Though the mirages have started to enter my mind and i have the most spectacular, realistic dreams where I am on a soft, thick, king-sized mattress covered with the thickest, softest, comforter, light and fluffy because the temperature is ideal. Everything is clean and bright and my every comfort is assured.

Then I wake to find that i am curled in a ball on the twin-sized pad on my platform bed in my hotel where the people are extremely welcoming and warm but nothing works. The bike I rented popped a tire in the first 5 kilometers, the computer has a mind of its own and discards my emails before I have a chance to read or send, the third floor toilet has likely never been properly flushed...

This was a difficult morning. I am still battling my cold. though the fevers have subsided. Dont worry - this is not some terrible African Flu Epidemic, I used to get this exact cold every winter though I have thankfully been spared the last two years. It just consists of uncontrollable dry coughing fits. They seem to only improve when I fall asleep or by breathing warm humid air. Warm I have. Humid I do not. And one can only take so many showers a day before people start to think you are a germaphobe.

So after blowing my nose for the billionth time in two days, the inevitalbe happened and I got a small nosebleed. No worries, but when i went to clean up I find that the water in the hotel had somehow turned off. It was too early for any shops to be open so here I am with no water anywhere, a pounding head, a bloddied face, and the strong desire to catch the next flight to Seattle.

But we persevere. And adversity merely helps us to see where we think our limits are. The owner of the cafe downstairs arrived at that moment and gave me a bottle of water so i went back to bed.

So it has been a few days so I will try to recap. Siwa is one of those small small towns where you see everything there is to see in five minutes but five years later you are still finding new things. It is a town of myriad surprises and many rewards. The people here are extremely welcoming, it is touristy enough that a ton of English is spoken and I have made friends here more easily than anywhere. In the Beduin Restaurant I had to politely decline invitation to eat dinner with a group of men so that i could accept invitation to have tea with the owner, Qaddura, before meeting my party for dinner. I order tea at the coffeeshop and the proprieter comes over a bit later with some bananas and local dates and won't even begin to take no for an answer.

In fact I have watched many tourists arrive in my five days here and I can see their warried, cairo-worn looks. They assume everyone is out to scam them, that everything has a double meaning. And I know that I was that way when I arrived. Sometimes I even pull them asside (the Americans and Canadians with whom we have an automatic trust) and tell them that this isn't Cairo and it really is ok to drop your guard a bit.

The Sahara!

2008-01-30T09:57:00.000-08:00

I spent last night in the deep desert. Picture this: a canvas tent, a lumpy mattress, two blankets that smell like they were likely on the back of a donkey recently, possibly the most amazing night sky ever. It was great!!!

I went off on an exploration of the desert with an extremely awkward German guy living in Australia, two French girls, Mary Christine and Victoria, and an Argentinian living in London . Our driver, Abdi, arrived on Siwan time 45 minutes late in a questionable 4x4 to take us into the Great Sand Sea. It is truly amazing and I appologize that my description will fall FAR short of the true beauty and wonder of the area which in Arabic translates to ´the land that God forgot´.

As we leave town we see the beginnings of humongous dunes (something like 300 feet above Siwa). We head straight in, Abdi navigating excellently the shifting sands as we slide around in our boat along the sea of sand.

We delve directly into the desert and soon all trace of mankind is absent, save the occasional piece of litter or the cairn or stick pointing up which serves as some sort of road map if only you could read it.

At one point, Abdi, who hadnt´yet spoken a word of English turns to the two ladies and says "you have baby?". After a short beat, we all crack into laughter at what appears to be a very bold question. Victoria says no and Abdi replies: "No baby, no problem" and quickly turns the wheel hard to head straight up a dune. We reach the top and after the most infintessimal pause to be sure we´ll survive, we fly over the top. Now we are hurtling downward and Abdi is spewing a stream of the clichéd gasps that he's heard a million times: mama mia!, oh no!, dear me! all the while cackling up a storm. It was a blast. We went farther and faster and did a number of more dune cresting drops, each progressively more steep and wild. Stopped at one point to take these pictures.

pic

We then went to a hot spring oasis in the middle of nothing. Gloriously hot water spewing up quite fast into a pool. I put my sore and tired feet in and soaked up the soothing warmth.

I don´t know if Ive mentioned it yet, but it is COLD in the desert right now. We are bundled up for warmth and wrapped in scarves to keep out the swirling sands. So this was a very welcome retreat. I'm also fighting off my first real sickness of the trip: a nasty headcold exacerbated by lack of sleep and dehydration.

We visited another large spring, this one cold and then went to our final destination: a high dune where we could watch the sun set across the sand. Watched some kids sand surfing down a dune and then nestled into the side of the hill to watch the sun turn orange and then red and drop into the hills of Libya. The sands turned golden and then all was blue and night set quickly.

So the last part of the desert safari was an option to stay the night in a Beduin Camp in the desert. I, of course, elected to do this without pause but I wasnt able to convince the others to join me. So Abdi dropped me off in the camp: a one-room mudbrick building with two small thatch buildings and a few canvas tents. The campfires were lit and I was quickly welcomed. Alternately, ´gosh´ or ´gee-osh´ I was made completely comfortable. Even as the other 30 guests (all Egyptian) arrived.

The Egyptian people are truly the most hospitable people. I sat at the fire and listened to the Arabic chatter in the background. Turns out that all the othes were med students at Alexandria University. A number of them spoke excellent English which was, of course, a blessing to me. And we talked of many things, music, travel, Alexandria. There is a recent movement in Arabic language hip-hop in Egypt right now that I will have to check out when I get back to the city. Amr and Omed had both been to the US on a work-study program in Jersey - I feel terrible for their introduction to the US which was Jersey and a NYC subway at 2am.

So we ate a fantastic dinner of fried chicken, salsa, some other meat which was amazing, and rice and then the girls started singing. I really love that everyone knows the same songs. We have really lost the folk tradition in the US and knowing full well that I might be asked to sing, I tried to think of any songs I actually know. Apart from a very few camp songs and my current Karaoke song of "Every Rose has its Thorn", what else do I know? Any suggestions? Thankfully no singing was required though I did, of course, get up and dance with everyone.

I then wandered away from camp for a bit to really see the sky. Just BILLIONS of stars across the southern sky with no light in the Sahara to mar the view. The milky way was a solid stripe of bright and Orion has never been so real.

Finally it was time for bed. I managed to grab a two person tent apart from the main camp - a blessing as I'm sure that the festivities went on until 3am. Thanks to my illness and exhaustion I was able to sleep almost 11 hours (actually waking up 25 minutes after Abdi was to pick me up). He showed up 10 minutes later after I had risen and packed. Perfect!

I hope that everyone is well at home. I have a terrible dial-up connection here so I'll try to post these three blog entries today but the pictures may have to wait until I get back to an urban area.

Siwa Oasis

2008-01-30T09:56:00.000-08:00

Here I am in the desert. My image was not too far off; after hours of nothing sudddnly palm trees and water! Siwa is quite a bit larger that i had imagined. It is quickly being built up as a resort town.

But for now it is still a backpacker's heaven. $2.75 for my room tonight. Two rock hard twin beds, moderately ok shared bath, balcony that overlooks a lovely courtyard and a palm tree close enough to grab. Dinner was $3.10 consisting of vegetable couscous and lots of mint tea.

I may just stay here forever. Well really there is apparently a two-week Egyptian school holiday so rooms are booked. I hope to take a desert tour tomorrow. Hot springs for swimming, sleeping in a Beduin tent after watching the sun set o'er the Great Sand Sea.

The oasis is truly like an island. You take a bus instead of a ferry but you could walk home just as easily as you can swim from Cuba to Florida. And it feels like an island. Laid back and slow. Everyone knows you and there is no real escape. The children follow you everywhere offering rides in a donkey cart.. Now i must sleep. More tomorrow.

Alexandria

2008-01-30T09:54:00.000-08:00

I have been out of reach of reliable internet for a few days so let's catch up.

Remember the good time I had in Cairo? I thought it was a great city: dirty and exotic and lively. Well Cairo was good but Alexandria is Fantastic.

Originally built in 332 BC by Alexander the Great, there is an antiquity to the city. The ancient library held a half-million volumes and was the center of learning throughout the Mediterranean. The city still exudes a scholarly feel. It is metropolitan and varied with influences from Greece, Italy, France, Turkey, and the Middle East. There are bookstores everywhere and coffee shops galore. In fact it feels a bit like home. One wants to just grab a book and sit in a cafe all day long. And so that is what I did. Well, a book and my trusty computer - where Ive been writing emails, mostly to Julie. We've had a rough weekend - trying to express ourselves across 7000 miles. Dont worry: mostly better now.

I'm in a lovely (somewhat dilapidated) hotel on the waterfront. These are from my balcony:

Yes, the street below is a bit noisy but the waterfront view is fantastic and for $7 per night, I'll take it! So I have watched the football matches with a bunch of foreign tourists, with a crowd of Egyptians at the coffee shop, and last night with the hotel owner and his entire family. There were 12 of us; all crammed on three couches around the tiny black and white set watching Egypt win against Sudan. The two elder sons translated between me and the rest of the family and we had a lively time.

The biggest hit is not me, but my little computer. It has made quite the stir in the neighborhood and everyone wanted to play. I could have sold 10 of them by now since they are impossible to find in Egypt (I have looked).

I can understand why; it's a great little machine. I've named mine Toto to help me remember that there's no place like home... Here is a picture of Toto (and the little bluetooth fold-away keyboard Julie gave me for Christmas) as I write this Blog.

pic

Let's see, back to Alexandria. They have built a new library (possibly on the ruins of the ancient one) and it is stunning. I sat inside and read The Koran and then a book teaching myself Arabic: 26 consonants, 2 consonant/vowels, and 1 glottal stop. Plus 3 diacritic short vowels. So I have a way to go before I'm fluent but I am learning...

Alexandria Biblioteca

In the market here was a used book area. Probably 10 stands selling used books in Arabic, English, and French. All jumbled together with no rhyme or reason and priced something like $1 for paperbacks and $4 for hardcovers. It made me fairly positive that they didn't really know what they were selling. Especially when I started to look through one pile: Wuthering Heights, Julius Ceasar, Handbook on Erectile Disfunction, the textbook to my EE210 class at U of I, Studies on Gastro-intestinal disease, and David Copperfield.

The other excitement has been the food. I have probably gained 10 pounds in pastries here. Everything is delicious and cheap. Kong, you'd love it -- I had a huge ice cream for 80 cents!

Tomorrow I take a bus 9 hours into the desert to the Siwa Oasis near the border with Libya. So there should start to be better/more pictures soon. I'm picturing the classic grove of palm trees surrounded by miles and miles of golden sand. We'll see.

From there, I may attempt a deep desert crossing. Think 4WD jeeps in a caravan making our way across absolute nothing, no roads, shifting sands. Wow.

Working title -- Waiting for Ahmad: A play in one act

2008-01-26T00:31:00.000-08:00

Based on a true story

Cast
Zissou: The hillariously soft spoken owner of the LetMeInn hostel; swarthy and stout.

Hans: The Flamboyantly bawdy, gay Swiss Texan cowboy; his texas moustache has grown into a scraggled beard on his travels

Josh: The introverted yet adventurous midwestern-transplanted Seattlite, on a six-month travel in Africa; miscellaneously ethnic he looks a bit to have stepped out of an REI catalog, into a pile of dust

Richard: The sometimes melancholy, eternally optimistic Sufi Brit; whispy grey hair sits untamed above his head as though it is too anxious to lie down and rest.

Jean: The tight-lipped, internet-addicted, Algerian-born Frenchman;

John: The understated yet sage British nomadic traveler.

Dewey and Landon: The intentionally shocking American college girls attending Smith

Gideon: The Jewish-American on holiday;

Hassan: The night-time clerk at the LetMeInn; diminuitive and quick; Hardy to Zissou's Laural

And a supporting cast of Canadians, Koreans, and Germans

Scene I: The central common room at the LetMeInn - a non-descript hostel on the sixth floor of a dilapidated post-colonial building in central Cairo. A round wooden table is littered with Egyptian pastries, a few well worn guidebooks, two and a half packs of Pyramid cigarettes, a non-working lighter, two overflowing ashtrays.

There are five chairs around the table, four of them occupied. Jean and John are sitting at the table engrossed in their laptops, Josh is leaning back tapping on his handheld computer, Zissou sits at the front desk talking in Arabic on his mobile phone, Richard is looking slightly perturbed at the incessant technology. Hans walks in and all except Jean look up.

Hans: "Does anyone have some cheesecake for me?"

Josh: "If I had some cheesecake, it's yours"

Richard: "That should be 'it would be yours'. Sorry, I'm a teacher."

Josh: [the remainder of the scene is an aside to the audience, Josh starts seated, rises to pace around getting more and more animated while the other characters remain nearly motionless as time slows to a standstill]

"Allow me a short rant against the subjunctive - the least artful tense in the English language. Of course 'would' is correct but it has no poetry. My 'incorrect' use of the present had a purpose: namely to show that in a situation wherein I had cheesecake to share, I would already have offered it forth. Hence, by that time it already is yours.

I think that language is extremely powerful and it is important to use it wisely. This does not always mean correctly however. I am on a personal quest against the boring and obvious use of the subjuctive. I say Rise Up! Unshackle yourselves from this linguistic bond! Who's with me?!?"

[Blackout]

Scene II: Later that evening. Again in the common room, the pastries have been further ravaged, and now a half-full (half-empty?) bottle of Egyptian vodka sits amidst the other debris.

Josh, Richard, and John are in poses identical to the beginning of Scene I. Zissou has been replaced by Hassan, and Gideon has taken Jean's place. The final chair manages to hold both Dewey and Landon though it is never apparent which is sitting on the other's lap.

The stage direction in this scene very slowly, but directly, should move each of the characters closer and closer together; from surrounding the table, to scooting their chairs closer, to abandoning their chairs completely, to one by one climbing up with Dewey and Landon until they form a human pyramid/sculpture perched or clinging to this chair. All the while keeping their drinks. The girls remain seated, John lies playfully across them, Gideon and Josh stand on the armrests, Richard perches on the back of the chair, and finally Hassan comes in, takes a flying leap to land atop them all as the stage goes dark. Throughout all of this, the dialogue progresses as though nothing is occuring at all. It is as though they are merely having tea in a cafe.

Gideon: [to Landon] ...but you can't skip it. You sortof have to go.

Landon: It only seems right, doesn't it?

Gideon [to Dewey]: i had a terrible time but i still think you have to go!

Richard: What's this?

Landon: Dewey doesn't want to go to the Pyramids

Gideon: And I say you can't come all the way to Cairo and skip it.

John: [without looking up] I didn't go the first time I was here.

Dewey: [to John] Thank you. [to Gideon] See.

[John & Gideon move their chairs noisily, yet unnoted by all, closer to the girls]

Gideon: I'm not saying it's not possible, just that they are amazing and you really must go.

John: [still not looking up and to no one in particular] Look here, apparently a group of Palestinians blew up a section of the border and hundreds of women poured into Egypt to buy food.

Josh: [leaning forward] Really? Was this today?

John: mmm-hmmm

[Josh stands and starts to circle the table]

Richard: "Ugh, i cant believe that I'm drinking this stuff again. It gave me such an awful hangover last time. [Stands up, steps up on chair, onto table, John rises, steps up to table] And you [to John] said that it wouldn't!"

[Richard takes John's seat]

Dewey: [to Landon] "Well, ok I'll go"

John: "No, i said it doesn't give ME a hangover" [steps down and lies across the laps of Dewey and Landon]

Josh: [to Richard]"A subtle but important distinction"[stops circling and steps up onto armrest, Gideon stands up on other armrest. Richard steps from his (John's) chair to the back of the girl's chair.]

[All drink]

Richard: "Hassan, could we have some more tea?"

[Hassan enters, steps onto the table and leaps into the arms of Josh and Gideon]

[Blackout]

Ok, I'm here again .... I was bored on the train today, so this is what you get. I'm in Alexandria; the old capitol of Egypt. It's on the sea coast; very pretty and a bit more laid back than Cairo. I can see the water from my balcony. :)

Not much else as I'm off to bed for an early night. I did watch Cote d'Ivore crush Benin tonight with, coincidentally, Ahmad, who runs the Hotel Gamlin, where I'm staying. He is hoping one day very much to immagrate to Europe or the US sometime as he finds life in Egypt too difficult. After seeing a picture of Julie, Ahmad's brother wants to marry her sister. Too bad, she's taken.

Alexandria Library:

Wanting to sit for a moment

2008-01-23T13:40:00.002-08:00

Here's some art from that gallery (see last post)

Thank you all for the well-wishes after my last post. Yes, overall I'm doing pretty well at keeping people from taking too much advantage of me being in a strange land and away from home.

I made my way, yesterday, with some other travelers to Giza to see the Pyramids. Landon, Dewey, and I boarded our taxi at 11am. An antique in its own right, it reminded me of Julie's car: the engine works (with a few quirks) but every accessory has failed. In Cairo, however, accessories include seatbelts, windshield wipers, any sort of defrost/ventilation...

The ride was fascinating. Traffic was horrific with six lanes of cars squeezing into the space of three, but our driver, whose name I have unfortuneately forgotten, navigated its complexity expertly.

One of the more amazing sights along the way were the large housing complexes which appeared to be only half complete - rebar sticking out the top of concrete columns, stairs built up to a non-existent next floor - with people living in the lower floors. I have heard that there is a desperate housing shortage here and perhaps people move in as each floor is finished!

The weather was quite cool (with a high of about 54F) and very foggy which we hoped might keep the tourist crowds at bay. After arranging with our driver where and when to meet and avoiding his friends with a "special government permit to allow them to sell us tickets at the student price", we made our way in. The pyramids are amazing! We walked completely around the pyramids of both Khufu and Khafre (the two largest) and were just in awe. The blocks of stone are enormous, something like 2 x 2 x 4 meters each!

We spent some time exploring an ancient cemetery too. This area was completely unprotected (Egypt has so many artifacts, i imagine some of them just aren't good enough to bother) and you could actually touch the hieroglyphs.

The Sphinx, though smaller than I had imagined, was no less stunning. Darn Napoleon for shooting off its nose!

We're currenty in the midst of the All Africa Games of Football (soccer) in Ghana. This has, of course, taken over the continent completely. We went out to watch the Egypt vs. Cameroon match at a nearby cafe - cheering right along. The streets were amazingly empty as Everyone else had the same idea. I believe the final score was 4-1 with Egypt passing better the whole night long. Cameroon never had chance.

So Julie confirmed her arrival dates as April 20. I'm VERY excited. It's nice to have an actual date to think about. Today I was looking at hotels in Senegal, starting to learn re-learn French, and asking around in the hostel for tips on West Africa. It looks like a completely fascinating area with live music everywhere.

I am currently happy for two more things in particular. First is my strong stomach. Occasionally one reads on travel guides and especially on travel blogs how one should Always Avoid the Roadside Food Stands. Its always written in that capital letter sort of way. Anyway, at about 45¢ for a sandwich, it's too good a deal to pass and I really wouldn't feel that I had even been here if I missed what most people eat regularly. Half the fun is saying "I'll have whatever that is". Now keep in mind that I have been vegeterian, vegan, or more recently fisheterian for something like 12 years. I've now had chicken, beef, and ´meat´ (who knows). Not a problem (knock on wood) so far. And pretty good, though I did seek out a Chinese place yesterday for broccoli and tofu.

The second is my sense of direction - though it fails me indoors, outside, I am quite good. Today I went walking again. I finally know the city well enough to keep my sense of north and the vague direction home so I have taken to deeper exploring. This morning after visiting the train station to look into my next city, I decided to head in a roundabout way to old Cairo and eventually to the Citidel of Salah Ah-Din. This route led me deep into a slum. Aside: Don´t worry, I wont do this exact same exploring with Julie. There are very few Egyptians with freckles and while I'm obviously western in dress I actually do look fairly Egyptian (Thanks to what Julie calls my miscellaneously ethnic appearance). It was a wonderful experience. More spice stores, oh and the heads of two cows, sitting on a table. Surprisingly, the beef liver I saw had been imported from Kansas! Kids everywhere playing soccer and tea and shisha is ubiquitous.

The Citidel of Saladin is the largest in the Islamic world. Quite stunning, it towers over the city from its hilltop perch. It was most peaceful walking the grounds. I watched the Fiery red sun set between the towers of various mosques. I could even see the Pyramids rising from the desert just outside the city.

As night fell, I wanted to head back home to watch the football match. I had walked about 2/3rds of the way around the Citidel and decided to finish the task. Of course, you can't get there from here held true again, as it so often does. I did wind up at a beautiful park where I climbed a hill and heard the call to prayer rise from every part of the city at once. Now THAT was something to witness. Usually, I hear my local mosque start the chant, but here above the city, I could hear every single one. Individually, and rolling together into a quite intimidating roar. Can you imagine being one of the 10% of Cairoans who are Coptic Christians in the city?

Steps, missed and otherwise

2008-01-20T15:26:00.000-08:00

[Listening: some bad pop music on the hostel radio]

So after my good luck with people thus far, it is essential to have at least some bad experience, right? Walking to Zamalek this afternoon, a relatively affluent neighborhood of Cairo in search of an English language bookstore and more adventures, I found them. A man actually tried to (quite inexpertly) pick my pocket.

The pocket he was reaching for only contained my handkerchief and I doubt that I would've missed the velcro being opened but I was Pissed! After matching my pace for a block he reached toward my pocket on the way down some steps - an obvious move that earned him a swipe from me and some verbal lashings. Not the brightest crook. Broad daylight, people everywhere, and I'd spotted his somewhat erratic behavior early on. In retrospect, I still managed to let him get closer to me than I should have but I did well overall at being aware. Mental note: in addition to learning the Arabic for 'yes, no, 0-9, thank you, and bathroom' I'll have to learn 'Can I help you?' (it's "Hal beemkani mosa’adatuk?..... هل بإمكاني مساعدتك؟")

So every night at the hostel all of us foreigners trade stories about our gullibilities, mistakes, etc. Richard (Brit.), after being friends with a man for quite a while and observing him going to pray 5 times a day lost 500 British Pounds to him in a business deal gone sour. I've heard numerous tales of people going to the "not-tourists Egyptian entrance" to the pyramids. Hint: this is actually just a 2-hour camel ride that never ends at the structures. And lastly that one should Always get out of the taxi before paying.

But we all keep a relatively good attitude about it. I personally don't mind paying more than locals (still much cheaper than at home) but the bald-faced theft attempt made me angry and unfortunately has made me retreat somewhat back to my comfort zone.

On a brighter side, I went to an art school/gallery. Saw some great contemporary
works: silver jewelry and these stunning abstract stone sculptures.
Then out tonight with some fellow travelers for a coffee and sheesha (water pipe). Then back to our lounge for beers and stories.

Actually, remember that scene in Indiana Jones when the lead woman is kidnapped and the truck pulls into the garage, immediately 20 people jump up and build a shop in front of the entrance making the truck disappear? We actually saw that happen!! We were having coffee in an outdoor cafe and without warning, a troupe of waiters poured out and packed up every chair and table around us. They motioned that we were fine, but in seriously 45 seconds it was as though there had never been outdoor seating. We finally figured out that they had set up across a 'line' in the street and probably heard of some authority making the rounds so they pulled everything back to the legal area. Amazing!

We had a great night out chatting in broken English and Arabic to the people around us. And very much enjoyed watching the parade of people making their way around.

Navigating

2008-01-20T02:42:00.001-08:00

[Listening: the sounds of the city around me]

I had the most amazing cous cous dish tonight: with sugar and raisins. Julie you would've found it extremely sweet but i assure you the flavor was stunning.

Spent much of the day meandering though downtown Cairo window shopping and then old Islamic Cairo; enjoying the sights, smells (seriously), and sounds of this largest African city - 17 million! The culture revolves around religion and Islam has a strong basis in chant and song so the streets are filled with music. Hearing and seeing the call to prayer is pretty amazing. The loudspeakers scattered throughout the city, perched on building walls squawk and then "Allah akbar Allah akbar" blares out followed by chants. It's lovely for a few reasons: the sound is beautiful and as people pour into the mosques the streets are pleasantly less crowded.

So allow me a moment to describe the experience of navigating the city. I would not call Cairo an extremely pedestrian friendly city in terms of Western Urban planning, yet there are plenty of people walking and there is an order to the chaos. Chaotic is truly the only word appropriate for the streets. There are lane markers, even marked crosswalks, yet it is as though they are but bits of litter to drive across. Cars weave and swerve around each other and any obstacles with a reckless (and surprisingly wreckless) abandon.

Cars, trucks, bicycles, carts, horses, motorcycles, scooters and walkers vie for some small shred of road; wide or narrow. The market streets are my favorite. It looks just like in Indiana Jones: stalls and stands line a narrow alley way, vendors hawk their wares yelling a steady stream of Arabic and the occasional "Hello!" or "Welcome, best cloth here!" to the foreigners. As you push your way through attempting to look purposeful to avoid being an easy mark you have to also avoid being run down by trucks with less than 5 inches of clearance! Not that I want to make it seem as though I'm lucky to be alive, it's actually quite easy and even fun. Even on streets with sidewalks, many of us rarely use them, preferring to walk in the street. The sidewalk is littered with even more stands and stalls selling any and every thing imaginable and the roadway, though ostensibly more dangerous at least has order.

Crossing a street is a similar harrowing yet easily accomplished task. "Jaywalking" doesn't begin to describe the adventure. One simply steps out, keeps a straight line and a constant pace and the cars veer around you. Not that you should close your eyes and just walk, but i have had fewer close calls here than in Illinois and it`s actually less frustrating than the nervous Seattle drivers. There is a constant chirping of car horns as drivers attempt to force their way through the throng.

So I am permanently intrigued by the business model of the various stalls and blankets hawking every good imaginable. The commercial districts of Cairo are someone segregated by what is sold. There is an autoparts neighborhood, a restaurant neighborhood, and the best thing for someone with seasonal affective disorder, a light fixture neighborhood! Selling commercial HID fixtures right along side table lamps. And the autoparts neighborhood?!? It is as though someone split a Napa or a Schucks into 15 different shops all in a row. I saw a guy selling nothing but brake lights; another selling window levers. Seriously. How often does someone need a new window lever? It is truly fascinating.

Ok, another curiosity: this:

clothing stores with storefronts teeming with what appear to be Scandinavian children staring out with malicious grins. Hundreds of very white, very blond mannequins. There are not a lot of blond Egyptians so I find this somewhat bizarre.

Spent yesterday walking around the Islamic Quarter. I climbed the Bab Zuweila - an old city gate. Here are a couple of pictures:

I ascended the pitch dark, narrow, circular stair and even climbed that very frightening rickety metal stairway to the top. What is cuter: my near paralyzing fear of heights or my terror of the dark?

My view of the city.

So I ran around the Islamic quarter suq (market) with my new friend Fahd. Fahd is Beduin, a nomadic people of the desert. Common practice in Egypt is to approach a tourist and impromptu guide them from shop to shop. They usually earn a commission on your purchases and can range from extremely helpful and knowledgeable to downright conniving. Guidebooks and other traveler's stories serve to demonize this practice somewhat and I'm sure that there are some pretty bad folk out there but my luck thus far has been excellent. Fahd and I had tea and talked about the tours he leads to the Sinai desert. It does sound beautiful and fun but I don't think I'll join on that one. The Sinai is not the safest part of Egypt as there is a fair bit of gun and drug trade through the region. Fahd even insinuated that his family was not above this practice. He did guide me around the suq a bit, however. I met a man blowing vases and ornaments from pyrex and an old and skilled artisan who paints on papyrus: Mr. Said. Fahd helped me navigate the twisting back alleys of the market through cloth shops, cotton bags, aromatic spice sacks. Cairo is nothing if not a sensory adventure!

So lastly, let's talk about my well being. I'm feeling good about my trip. I miss Julie (and the cats) terribly. I was able to Skype Julie once which was great, but which doesn't not make up for not seeing her. I miss my friends and the comfort of home but have enjoyed immensely meeting new people. I think about you all and I hope that all is well.

Drop me a line sometime as I appear to have excellent connectivity so far.

Thanks are due

2008-01-18T00:30:00.000-08:00

[Listening: Gomez "See the World"]

So I want to take a quick moment to thank you all for supporting me. Sure you may think I get more crazy by the hour but you're still there when I need you most. I also wanted to take a quick moment to call out some of you who most helped me to follow through on this dream. I couldn't do it without you (hopefully Julie won't come after you-just kidding). Dad for the wanderlust; Aaron for the idealism; Catlain for the adventure; Mom for the perspective; Rashmi and Teresa and Lesley for believing in me. And, of course, most of all to Julie for always encouraging me to find my happiness and for not letting me talk myself out of it and for having the trust to be ok with my absence.

Onward #1

2008-01-17T18:00:00.000-08:00

[listening: Kasey Chambers "A Million Tears"]

I've always loved sunrises; and sunrise somewhere new is the most amazing. It is a magical time. Today it was 8:16am over Paris. Pink...purple...lilac...blue...peach...lavendar...coral...grey...aqua... There is hope and promise in a sunrise. Warmth seeps across the sky driving out uncertainty.

So Paris was beautiful. I saw the Eiffel Tour, walked a bit -- decidedly underdressed for Paris in January! I was only in town for 4 hours or so but I'll be back again. I did have the most wonderful salad (chevre baked on a slice of toast over tasty greens) at a lovely cafe playing Devotchka in the background -- it felt like home.

I'm currently somewhere over the Swiss Alps (the peaks are stunning reflecting the twilight) fighting off the urge to sleep again. I've lost track of what time it is in Seattle but I think that I started my travels some 21 hours ago. I slept when I could on the first leg (Seattle to Paris), but flying East is hard enough and the excitement was powerful.

Now I am supposed to stay up until I get to my hotel to reset my clock to Egypt time.

Travelling on my own schedule has already proved welcome; I have had two flights with no one seated beside me. This dampens my goal to meet people but is worth it for the extra leg and elbow room.

Hold that thought! If you have never had occasion to fly French Air, let me reccomend it! I just got my dinner. Tonight's meal starts with salmon on a bed of carrot and cucumber salad with a yogurt sauce. Probably Atlantic salmon but delicious nonetheless. There is a constant stream of tasty little French loaves and just when I thought there was no butter I find it: tucked under the entrée keeping warm! Speaking of the entrée, tonight we have pollack in a tomato curry. To round out the meal they have served camembert cheese, yogurt, pecan pie, and a bottle of viognier. So please excuse me as I dine.

Ahhh, delicious. The pollack could've been better but I still stand by the menu. So where was I? Oh yes, goals. A trip of this magnitude and intensity and cost occasions people to wonder at the purpose. It also occasions people to wonder at my sanity but that is another story.

I'm sure that my goals will change as the adventure progresses but I do have the beginnings of a list.

First I have four things to avoid: African hospitals, African jails, getting eaten by animals, and abduction. Then I have some things to see/do: hone and develop my confidence (meet strangers, survive challenges, take [calculated] risks, not get scammed), rediscover my responsibility (avoid losing things, do what needs to be done without procrastination and avoidance), see the sights (pyramids, giraffes, lions, major Islamic centers,the Sahara), and most of all doing away with ignorance and naivéte.

So don't expect this much blogging all the time because I need to go explore but it's nice to start with some good intentions.

Preparation #2

2008-01-16T11:30:00.000-08:00

[listening (somewhat obviously): Peter,Paul & Mary "Leaving on a Jet Plane"]

My bag is packed and I'm ready to go.

Julie and I are being honest about my departure but we're both trying to have a normal day together without too much sadness. A few days ago was worse; it was an overwhelming prospect for her and I was afraid that my last few days in Seattle would be full of sadness and snippy fights instead of the hope and excitement normally in our lives.

So we've made a conscious choice to let ourselves enjoy this time together. We went out for an amazing meal at the Pink Door yesterday. Thank you to Peter and Nancy for the birthday gift certificate there! Our waitress was actually quite helpful in helping us to gain perspective on our time apart; her boyfriend travels for work for three to four months at a time. He returns from Philedelphia tomorrow. I thought that she had some good suggestions and peace about it. She also brought us some free dessert for being so adorable. ;)

Preparation #1

2008-01-05T00:30:00.000-08:00

A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving. ~Lao Tzu

I would like to start my travel blog this way as a way to help me remember this thought. I have been steadfast in my refusal to over-plan my trip. I expect to depart Seattle with a flight and a hostel bed for the first few nights; with my passport, a guidebook, the proper immunizations, and a well packed bag.

I am flying to Cairo as an ice-breaker. I chose this as my jumping off point for two reasons. Firstly, it is a tourist town - meaning that speaking English will be easy and getting my bearings will be less trying. I'm vaguely familiar with the area, history, culture, and tourist attractive sites. Secondly, it is a tourist town - meaning that there are swindles, scams, tricks, traps, and a nearly constant banter by hundreds of locals looking to get a buck. I expect to shed naivete almost visibly. It will hopefully fall off in chunks like a snake shedding skin.

The point of this is to allow me to be a better traveller later. To have the awareness and confidence to take calculated risks and have a deeper experience abroad.

So let me take a moment to remind myself for yet another time, that the journey IS the destination. The travel is the point.