The end is here...

NO, REALLY, THIS IS IT (I lied on the last one when I said it was it...)

2007-06-15T00:03:00.000-07:00

OK, so I lied below when I said that it was my final blog (see below). I realized that there was just one more thing I needed to add to this. So many people have asked me what my favorite things were about the trip, well, I’ll try to give you my top 10, although pretty much everything was fantastic in its own way, even the bad days, of which, I am thankful, there were very few.

So here it goes and in no specific order:

Gorillas within five feet of me walking about
Balloon ride over the Masai Mara with the wildebeest migration
Canoe trip on the Zambezi with all of the elephants walking through our lunch
The trek in Nepal in the Himalayas
The leopard walking about, climbing the tree and then continuing lunch
Ellora and Ajanta caves in India
Marrakech and all the crazy colors and sounds of that amazing city
The nine lions feasting on the Zebra followed by the entire animal kingdom congregating at the watering hole in Etosha National Park
Swimming with a whale shark in Mozambique
Sunrise at the dunes in Namibia

Right then, so there are so many other things that are now popping into my head that were just awesome…maybe I should just say the entire trip was fantastic and I would do it all over again in a second (maybe I would go for even longer)! Now, sitting here in the US, I am missing many things and thinking fondly of so much that I was able to experience. I miss all the crazy people I met along the road and small things like the anise seed/candy mix that came after meals in India and was the closest thing to eating licorice that I had experienced in months. The fantastic foods - the Tibetan Thupka soup, Tajines followed by “seasonal fruit”, momos, olives galore, those sticky sweet fried, honey soaked cookies, those amazing coconut cookies the kids in Marrakech sold on the streets, mango lassis and fruit/curd/yogurt.

When again will I say that I actually like porridge/oatmeal? I tried it again here and well, it is just not the same. I think I may have to take back my much earlier comment on how great it was, or maybe I will get lucky and figure out how it is done and be able to make my own. God knows the Moroccan tea I brought back tasted nothing like it did there when I had it. I think I actually even miss my Thermarest and the silky soft interior of my sleeping bag – even Enrique, my tent, holds a tender spot in my heart. I definitely miss the “Don’t Wait!” cry of Charles the cook on the overland truck when each meal was ready.

I worry too, that all those special things that I remember now and all of the feelings and ways and ease of life that I adopted along the road will dissipate like fog burning off in the morning sun. Please, oh please, don’t let me forget, let me remember and hold true to living life rather than letting it pass by unannounced and without adventure.

Again, I say, where shall we go next?

SINKING SHIPS...

2007-06-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

First- pixs...my favorite sunset and the end of the long journey, my sinking ship and the drago Brighton gang in vic falls.

Well, so, here it is, my final blog after 8 ½ months of travel…BIG SIGH…it feels strange and confusing and odd not to be getting on a plane tomorrow (OK, that is a lie now as I just got off a plane to NY) or picking up my beloved grey and burgundy, African soil stained, tar covered, sweat covered back pack to get on a bus, train, boat or plane. I have tried now, for several weeks, to write this final blog and I have found it very hard. Mostly, I believe, because my adventures abroad have come to a close and my adventures back in the States are just beginning. That is not to say I won’t be taking other trips in the future but most likely none so long. Truthfully, I am not too sure how I feel about this and am going through a bit of re-adjustment trauma. The panic has only really hit once and my head is at least in a place where I can recognize that it is a passing phase. I have very much enjoyed writing my blog and I do hope that I have not bored you too terribly with all of my babble and that you too, have enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it. It already feels strange not to have new exciting adventures to tell – well there are new adventures but they just don’t seem as thrilling as gorillas, balloon rides, tigers, crazy bus trips, Himalayan hikes, nutty Arabs and the beautiful blue Mediterranean.

Hmmm, well, what have I been doing since I last left you… on the 18th of May, Jules and I woke up to a grey, drizzly Tunisian sky, which I think I have already told you about, and we headed back to the UK, where we arrived to a fairly grey (typically so) British Spring day. A quick train journey got us out to Brighton and Jules’ great little flat where we began to prepare for a weekend of festivities and a small Dragoman reunion. Sus, Steve and Sarah were coming in for the weekend for one more good laugh. In short, we ate loads (including Jules’ fantastic Bannofi Pie (a banana toffee thing) and an orange cake made by Steve), drank a load of wine (no fun shopping for wine in the UK – even the mediocre stuff is expensive! OK, the exchange rate didn’t help me either), wandered along the seaside and through the quaint little streets of Brighton and took a stroll on the South Downs followed by a pub lunch out in the sun and had one final proper Italian gelato. It turned out to be a sunny and warm weekend which made our tromping about Brighton even more fun – quite fantastic in fact. Brighton really is a charmer and I think, if I had to move anywhere in the UK, it would be this seaside town with its air of old England, people strolling the promenade, eating and drinking, and the waves lapping on the pebble beach.

After the lovely weekend, on a cold, wet, steel colored sky sort of day, I headed into London for my last two nights, which I spent in Wimbledon re-packing and organizing the junk that I managed to collect along the way. I also managed to squeeze in a quick trip out to the London International Wine and Spirits Trade fair where I reconnected with some of the South African wine people I had met and one of my old Robert Mondavi co-workers. Then it was off for a night out with Nicky (old co-worker) and friends.

What I had planned on being a short night out – a dinner – turned into a 4:00am return as everyone seemed to want to continue on and on and on and we ended up in one of the cheesier night clubs in London. It is called Tiger Tiger. I think the name pretty much gives it away as did the big brass cat thing in the bathroom. Time flew by and before we knew it, we were being kicked out and being sent home. I did learn one important thing, though, in those hours…I drink what the Brits consider girlie and/of bad beers. I was continually mocked for my choices. Apparently Boddingtons is for the youngsters who don’t quite like the taste of beer and want something light and girlie (hey, I am a girl after all) and the Leffe, (fantastic Belgian beer, I must say – my favorite, and which I am drinking right now), was never really explained. Thus, why the Leffe was an odd choice I never learned but the guys in the party sure as hell got a good laugh and actually refused to order me a second one when it came time for the next round. Some other, fairly non-descript beer magically appeared (thankfully not a Budweiser). After many goodbyes we all finally piled into cabs and I made it home to Wimbledon (thankfully two others were going there too).

Then with just two paltry hours of sleep, grabbed my very cumbersome bags and dragged them two blocks up to the train station. Talk about feeling like an over-packed, overtired camel. Hell, if I could moan like Zurich did in the Sahara, I would have been doing it. I imagine this would have aroused some serious glances in my direction but not too many people were awake at that hour so I didn’t have to embarrass myself too badly on my trek. Although at one change of trains a man felt so bad for me he carried one of my bags up the stairs. Overall, I felt quite proud and accomplished when I finally did reach the airport and got myself a cart (thank god!). Just so you can imagine what I must have looked like, I was carrying my big backpack, a duffel bag full of stuff, a book bag type backpack and a drum. All of this got carried down a road, through a tunnel and up some stairs to a train station and then through two tube station changes and finally to the airport cart. Of course, none of the lines were right next to each other and all of them required either walking up and down a couple flights of stairs or down into the bowels of the tube lines. Thankfully most of the sweat that had been pouring down my face was gone by the time I reached check-in so only a couple of sweat drops landed on my ticket as I handed it over to the agent. She only slightly looked at me with the question of, “Does this girl really belong in business class and how do I manage to bump her back to economy?” Actually she was VERY helpful and kind and wouldn’t let me touch my bag once I had set it down even though it needed to go over to “odd shaped luggage” and no porter was coming to help her.

I probably don’t need to tell you about the plane ride. It was fairly uneventful. Used miles to buy my ticket so again had the benefit of flying business class (as noted above). Safely tucked into my chair, and completely exhausted, I had a celebratory mimosa, followed by warmed nuts, a fillet with asparagus, a selection of local cheeses and a glass or port to ensure I would in fact fall right to sleep (as if there was any doubt about that after the previous night of no sleep). And, well, that was about it. Slept a bit, watched a movie, read about five pages in my book, and we were there! Fortunately, instead of having to return to reality right away I was whisked off from the airport to Carmel for a family get together and a week of acclimation. The coast was, well, foggy and then foggy again but I had a wonderful time seeing everyone and getting to re-meet my niece, even though I don’t think she is too sure about her “auntie softphie” even though I got strong armed (by her cuteness, of course) into getting watering can after watering can of water for her from the ocean. It was a nice week and a good way to come back.

So, where am I now? Well, partially on a the blow up bed in my dad’s office and party on various peoples couches and spare beds and, right now, in New York for a job interview. Other than bouncing about a bit, I am seriously wondering how the hell I acquired so much junk. In looking at what I left behind as “need right when I get back” I am very curious where the hell my mind was. Boots, in the middle of summer? Even if it was spring I probably wouldn’t need boots. And well, the clothes that got left out – huh? Other than half of them no longer fitting, I am really questioning what I am doing owning all this junk. My storage container was an even better eye opener…not sure what half of it is and why it did not hit the garbage bin when I left. Hell, maybe when I open it up, really open it up, I will be pleasantly surprised and happy that I have all this stuff but I am really not too sure about that. Even though I did acquire a bunch more stuff along my trip, I really have also realized how little we need in life to be happy. Does one really need to own 50 shirts for working out and 100 pairs of shoes? OK, so that is an exaggeration but that is what I feel like I have.

So, that now, since we are the junk subject, brings me to the sinking ships subject….wondering what that one is all about aren’t you. You are probably assuming that my sinking ship is in reference to the fact that I have finally returned to the US and am now mired in a job search. Or, it could refer to me having been on a ship that sank (nope, not the case). Possibly it is in reference to me feeling like my life ship is sinking (also not the case). In fact, the reference to the sinking ship is in regards to the MSC Napoli, a 68,000 ton tanker/cargo ship that left South Africa on the 21st of December and due to unfortunate circumstances is now stranded off the coast of England in Devon AND was carrying some more of my STUFF! Since my package was not there when I arrived home, I decided to do a little search. It did have my Maasai warrior spear and my two geoffries (giraffes) in it after all.

After an inquiry to the South African post office, I found the date that the package left South Africa and the name of the ship. So, out of sheer curiosity, I decided to type in “MSC Napoli” into Google to see what came up. And boy, what did I get??? Article after article about the troubles the stricken cargo ship has faced. Apparently it was sliced open during a heavy storm, then when they tried to tow it, more problems arose, a few containers fell off as the ship listed and it sounds like several more storms have hit during the attempt so save the rest of the cargo and get the ship beached. The containers that came ashore have also been looted so it is now quite a mess. What has been salvaged has been carried to Antwerp to be moved to another ship where, hopefully, my STUFF is now located and continuing its voyage home. I am really hoping that this is the case as I would quite like to see my geoffries again. Either that or, I hope they can swim!

Well then, there you have it. All done! But before I really go, for all of you, be well, be safe, travel everywhere you can (safely) and remember to cherish your friends and family and those that love you and that you love and the experiences you have with them as they can never be replace and will carry on with you forever.

Oh, gosh, I had to end on a sappy note didn’t I? So, then, where shall we go next?????

SEA, SAND AND SWEETS

2007-05-22T04:51:00.001-07:00

Before I head off to Sousse, I think I should mention the magic of the Call to Prayer. The first time I heard it was in 1994 when I was in Turkey. I had no idea what it was or what was going on. All I knew is that it was 5:30am, I had just gotten off a 24+ hour horrendous bus ride from Athens, followed by a tram into the old quarter of Istanbul, the city was lit by the hazy glow of the sun starting to come up then this deep voice boomed out of nowhere, followed by another and another and another and...you get the point. It was amazing. Complete silence then this chant coming at you from all angles and in all different tones and cadences. I have not forgotten that moment and each time I enter a country that has the Call to Prayer, I listen for it, and mostly, I am disappointed as nothing has yet rivaled the Call in Istanbul.

The reason for that big long story above is that the Call in Kairouan was pretty close. Given that it is the fourth most holly city after Mecca, I would hope that it was nice - it was more than nice. Jules and I had just returned to the room and were getting ready for bed when it rang out across the city. It started with one guy, who got through a couple of lines before the next guy started out and then the next, and the next, and the...again, you get the point. It was a lengthy call with many, many muezzins (the callers) going all at once, for several minutes, and as started, it finished with one last caller's voice echoing through the night air. They all have a slightly different flourish to the way the give the call, which makes the sound all that much more magical and beautiful. It was fun, in some of the previous cities, to try to pick out the ones calling and determine if it was the same man as the day before but this one was so joined and melodious that everyone blended into one beautiful song.

OK, enough of the Call, back to heading to Sousse. Of the coastal cities visited in Tunisia, Sousse was probably my least favorite as it was crawling with tourists. However, it's proximity to Kairouan and to El-Jem (roman ruins) made it a good stop for us. It has a lovely stretch of coast and a nice promenade along that but it is also lined with large hotels for the European package holiday tourist. For them, Sousse is probably a little gem. Lots of beach, close to a couple of historical sites and, in its own right, an attraction with a very large ancient medina. For Jules and I, it was too crowded and all of the things they were selling in the souq were pretty trashy and of poor quality. It also included lots of touts trying to get you to stop in their store or restaurant or just decided that walking with you and talking at you was a good idea. When you tried to explain you didn't really want to chat with them, they tended to go off about how grumpy and angry of a person you are. Hmmm, wonder why I am grumpy and angry? Maybe it is because YOU have been following me for the past 10 minutes nagging at me and, well, I really don't want to talk to you, nor do I like you! Didn't say that but sure as hell thought it. Well, OK, so I did say something along those lines at one point but that was back in Jerba when Sus, Jules and I were all getting leered at by two guys who kept trying to jump into our conversation and were saying things like "So, do you like Tunisia? Do you like Tunisian men?". At which point, I said "Love Tunisia, but no, don't really like the Tunisian men!" In response to "Why?" I started with, "Oh, where do I begin...Let me tell you..." At which point Jules and Sus were laughing hysterically and I think they walked out a bit flustered.

OK, again back to Sousse. Day 1 was spent wandering the promenade and having a sit on the beach and a beer in one of the restaurants across from the beach with a view of the water. We had a great little restaurant just below our hotel, so we didn't have to go on a big long quest for food that night. Although, we did turn up about 9:00pm and our options were limited to merguez (spicy sausage) or chicken couscous. We settled on the merguez couscous and were just expecting a bowl of that but out came a bean dipping dish and a tomato/eggplant/potato type dish. Both were quite nice. The couscous was followed up with fresh strawberries and mint tea. We went home quite stuffed. For a country where I find it hard to get food, I do seem to be eating a lot and feeling very stuffed most of the time. Think it might be that the portions are quite large and very greasy so stick with you for a while.

The next day we headed to El-Jem. There is nothing much to the city proper but it has an amazing Roman amphitheater that is considered one of the best preserved in the world. It is 148m long by 122m wide and reached about 35m high. It is estimated that it could seat 35,000 people. Supposedly, back in the day, it was connected to Mahdia (a coastal town) by tunnel. It is suspected that the usual gladiator fights and chariot races were held here and the underground tunnels and holes where they lifted the lions and other dangerous animals up into the stadium are still intact and well defined. It was also, supposedly, the last stand for a Berber queen (can't remember her name) and it is rumoured that she taunted her attackers with fresh fish from the coast, which she obtained through the tunnel way to Mahdia. I am sure you are all very excited by all these details, right? Suffice it to say, it was a very spectacular amphitheater, almost as good as the one in Rome!

We spent a few hours there before heading back for an afternoon at the beach in Sousse. Unfortunately, by the time we got back, the wind had picked up and the glassy smooth Med was no longer glassy smooth but looking shockingly similar to the Pacific on a light day. We did give it our best effort to sit on the beach for a bit but as the sun started to dip, the wind felt a little too cool and it just really wasn't warm enough to want to take a dip in the sea. We headed back to the Medina and decided to see what they had on offer in Sousse for us silly tourists. We tired quickly of that junk and the annoying shop-keepers who called out from every angle, so we took a little wander, and, well, got lost in the prostitutes quarters. We were simply trying to follow the wall back around to our hotel and came to a section that was a little divided off by another wall. We didn't think anything about as there were no indications of anything strange. A couple of young men did try to stop us and chat but if they were trying to warn as that we were going in a wrong direction, there approach was not very helpful. They weren't exactly saying, "excuse me, you don't want to go there." but were saying, "Excuse me, Hello, Hello, Excuse me, You from where?" Which is pretty much what all the annoying people on the beach and shop keepers say.

So, we ignored them, carried on walking and went through this twisty little bit straight into the whore houses. It did take us a couple of minutes to get this sorted as the women weren't really out on the streets, or maybe they were and we were just so engrossed in our conversation that we didn't notice. A man coming up the street tried to communicate something and got enough across that we stopped, looked about a bit and realized that down the alley way were several women in various states of undress leaning out their doors...think I should probably say that they looked a little more like they were sticking their bellies out the doors but that does not provide a nice image. OK, it wasn't a nice image and they were fairly tatty looking women. We did a quick about face, laughed, oh'd, then the man laughed and smiled, and we walked back the direction (directly!) we had come in from. Of course, now that we were looking around, we noticed quite a number of women just sitting in their doorways. We both still swear that these women were not there when we walked in...maybe they popped out to check out the stupid lost foreign girls. I think we were most surprised to discover this area existed as you really don't think about them in Muslim countries.

After a few more wrong turns and twists, we made it to the other side of the prostitutes quarter and back to the wall and our hotel. Quick kebab for dinner (something a little light, eh?) where we had to negotiate the price back down to something reasonable, but still got ripped off. It is very annoying having to do this every time and my vow not to eat in restaurants that don't post a menu and prices, still holds. Clearly I didn't follow that rule in this case but when we complained, the waitress took a little pity on us and said something to the cook/cashier, who then lowered the price a bit, but not quite to local standards. Funny how you end up arguing over pennies in these countries. It really isn't so much the money as the point that they are totally taking us. Jules and Sus even paid 20DT to get from the airport to the city center in Tunis and on the way out, Jules and I paid 5DT for the same ride. I am sure they do this in the US too but I cannot imagine it is as bad.

The next morning, we headed back out to the Louage station, where the driver tried to rip us off. Told us that we had to pay for our bags to be put in the back, at which point, Jules and I just said, "No". The driver was a little surprised, wrinkled his brow at us and again said, "1DT per bag". Again we said, "No!" He did ask why and we just simply said, "There is no charge for bags. No." He said, "Oui, 1DT", at which point I just blurted out a long rambling speech on how we had never paid before, we had been in the country for two weeks, there was no charge for bags and we weren't going to start paying it now. I think he gave up cause at that point, he laughed a bit, smiled and gestured for us to put our bags in the bus. I have no doubt that he did not understand a single word I said, but I am quite positive that he understood that neither Jules nor I were going to give him any more money. Otherwise, uneventful Louage ride to Hammamet.

Hammamet was, and is, a lovely place. I think it was probably the nicest beach that we stopped at, but then again, it isn't known for being particularly historical. It does have a very charming medina/fort right on the ocean but it is quite small and takes only a matter of minutes to wander through. Fortunately we were there pre-package holiday tours kicking in and the North beach was relatively empty. Also, it wasn't really the weather for beaching it and in fact, rained for much of the late afternoon we were there. Given that the weather wasn't fantastic, Jules and I settled on getting massages and taking a wander down the beach and through town. We were having a lovely afternoon until we got the nasty waiter from hell. I was just getting up to go look at the menu billboard at the entrance when the waiter came to our table and asked what we wanted. We replied, "a menu" at which point he rattled off a bunch of items. I said that I still wanted to look at it. I remembered there being quite a few more things on the list when we had looked at the sign earlier. He walked off in a huff (oh, this is all after we had sat there for 15 minutes waiting for someone to even acknowledge that we had come in and sat down). I looked at the menu board, and yes, they did have a nice tea/cookie combo that sounded lovely. We waited about another 10 minutes before he came back and this is post walking over to the table behind ours, whipping it off, dropping the tray on it with a loud clatter, wandering over to another table close by, sorting some chairs out and then coming back to us. We asked for the tea/cookie combo and he said, "No. Don't have it" so we asked for just mint tea, to which we got, "No. Don't have it". We have tea au pignon (tea with pine nuts). We said that was fine, but we didn't want the pine nuts (they put them in after and in this restaurant it even looked like they were just giving little dishes of them for you to put in yourself). He said "No." We tried again and asked if he could just leave the pine nuts out. He said, "No. Don't have it. Only tea au pignon." Do you think he was trying to get rid of us? Well, it worked. We got up an walked out. I really think had we asked for a tea au pignon, he would not have had that either. It is too bad really has it was in the best location around, right where the bay and the sea met with a nice view over the local beach and then across to the South Beach (the area covered with REALLY expensive hotels). We settled for a tea elsewhere.

Having re-fortified ourselves and taken another wander to a different part of town, we decided that it was time to celebrate the evening with a beer. Thought it would be easy in Hammamet since there are so many tourists, thus a lot more places with beer. In fact, we were sure that we had seen people drinking beer earlier. Apparently this was not the case and it was much more difficult than expected. So, given that we only had two more nights in Tunisia, we decided, hell, why not just go into one of those men only bars and have a beer. We had seen one earlier that looked quite nice with windows and nice tiling and a menu outside and that did not look seedy so we wandered back to that. The waiter welcomed us right in with a big smile, which helped it not feel so awkward and in fact, felt down right OK. We settled on a table by the window, one because it was in the nicer part of the bar and next to a window and two because it looked safe and far enough from everyone else. We didn't get hassled too much, which was nice but did get lots of looks. The worst was a Tunisian teacher who supposedly lived in Brussels that kept coming over and trying to get us to join him and his five other teacher friends. One of which supposedly taught English. Jules kept politely declining (he was quite smitten with her) and he finally said, but don't just tell me you are going to come over and not come. Jules replied that in fact she had told him she was not going to and again, no, I am not going to join you ever this evening. At which point, he picked up her hand and kissed it while she tried very hard (unsuccessfully) not to cringe and turn her head away while he did it.

Our waiter was so attentive that we ended up at beer three realizing that we were quite hungry and needed to get some food. Problem solved by our waiter who simply ran me out to the restaurant next door and handed me a menu. So we stayed and continued to have a fine time sitting there watching the goings on of the men and eating a great ojj dish (tomato sauce, merguez and egg with bread to slurp it up). There were definitely some characters there and it was quite amusing to create stories about them and why they looked so glum and alone or how that old guy in the corner with the ski cap on was really going to finish his entire bottle of wine and still walk home (he apparently did - well, finish it that is, not sure about the getting home).

On the way back to the hostel, we stopped for an ice cream and begun our 24 hour sweet fest. It was quite amazing chocolate cherry and after finishing, we vowed that for breakfast the next morning, we were going to have another cone (it was my B-day so I figured we could get away with it). Unfortunately that didn't happen however we did start the day with cake. Yum!

So, I see I am now suddenly at the next day. Woke up to the beautiful blue Med right off the balcony (OK, there was a street in the middle and then some beach but what can I do...I could still see it and boy it was beautiful!). While I was off showering, Jules took the cake out of the bag and shoved her mag-lite (top taken off) in the center. When I came back into the room, she burst into song and handed me the cake with candle. Very sweet and also very funny. Biggest candle I have ever had in a cake. As we had taken the cake out, there wasn't much else to do but have it for breakfast along with the watermelon we had bought the day before. It was all quite tasty and we sat outside on our balcony enjoying the food and the view.

I was hoping for a swim in the sea before going back to Tunis but that wasn't to be as the weather remained uncooperative. It was fairly windy out and well, not hot enough to want to go running into the sea and have the wind freeze you when you came out. So we opted for a walk back to the snotty water-side restaurant in the hopes that it might get a little warmer and inspire us to go for a swim. We got a nice waiter this time so we stayed for a cuppa and then, as promised, tried to go back for an ice cream. No such luck, they were open, but well, not really open. Doors were unlocked but no one seemed to be around, nor did they come when we called. Oh well...when we stopped back by an hour later, the woman was in but the ice cream wasn't and she really had to think quite hard about what time she opened. Clearly it is a case of open whenever you feel like it. Never did get the swim in as the wind picked up and well, we wanted to get back to Tunis to see a few more things and to get out to Sidi Bou Said, an white washed city on the coast just outside Tunis.

We made it back to Tunis in no time, which was fab as we were running short on time for what we wanted to accomplish. Dropped our bags at the hostel and headed off for the Hammam. Depending on what you have already read of my blog, you will know that I already had quite the hamman experience. Well, this one was a bit different, which is a good thing. This one was a little less on the loofah the body until the skin peels off and a little more on the lovely heated marble slab in the middle of the room. My favorite Hammam is still in Istanbul where you get a nice gentle loofah, massage, hair and body wash AND a spectacular headed marble slab to relax on. This one was not bad though and supposedly was even featured in some movie. We had a bit of a tough time communicating what we wanted as the women only spoke Arabic but soon enough we were stripped down, washing and getting a loofah. She was no less gentle than the last lady but not nearly as thorough. Personally, I think we got a bit ripped off as she was quite quick but I think my skin is probably happy that it didn't have to take another beating. We spent a fair bit of time on the hot marble slab chatting away and then packed up to head out to Sidi Bou Said.

It seems that every time we headed out this direction, the clouds and rain started to pile in. Sidi Bou Said is just past Carthage and the day was much the same as the day we went to Carthage...bit rainy and cloudy and sunny and rainy and cloudy again. The city is a big draw as it is perched on top of the cliffs overlooking a nice little beach and surrounded by views of the sea. It is very much like a Greek island city with white washed buildings and blue shutters and doors, brillant colored flowers spilling over the sides of balconies and walls. Basically, lovely. After a quick wander, we settled in to a cafe, with view, of course and ordered up a couple of mint teas and a sheesha pipe. Again, lovely. It was only slightly sprinking and mostly just cloudy so still quite enjoyable - well mostly. A little storm pocket did whip through with quite a bit of wind and rain. We were about to put up an umbrella but realized that would just get whipped away when the waiters came down, grabbed out sheeshe and teas and brought us up to an upper deck part, which well, had no shelter either. It looked like they were just going to place us next to the wall to block the wind a bit so Jules and I took matters in our own hands and stepped into a little storage alcove thing and settled right down on some straw mats. It had a lovely view as well and was much more sheltered than where we had previously sat, so, we ordered another tea and carried on for another hour. The waiters all found this quite funny. That and the fact that we really do not manage to smoke the sheehsa with much style of panache and they kept having to come over and get it going again. They did this with big smiles so it can't have been too bad. We were having fun, and well, that is all that mattered.

When we tired of that and our tummies started making themselves known, we headed back into Tunis for our farewell dinner. Where else would we go but the nice little restaurant Carcassone (mentioned a few entries earlier). They greeted us warmly and we ordered up their massive (enormous would be a better word) lamb couscous and creme caramel and had a grand dinner before ending it all with a couple of beers and some VERY, VERY good people watching in the local cafe/bar. My sides hurt from all of the food, beer and laughing by the time we left and headed back.

Our hostel owner was a bit of a git though when we got back and told us he needed us to move rooms because he had a big group coming in. He said he had a great big nice room for us to move to - or, really, the conference room with two bench seat like bed things made up in the corner. Now adept at saying "No" on a regular basis, we both looked at him and simply said, "NO". He tried to explain that it was a fine place and he would give us a key to the door and we both said, "NO!" then, "The room is not nice." and carried off back to our own room, which was actually quite pleasant (that is until the Tunisian guy in the room across from us started chatting on his cell phone all night and smoking - but my earplugs kept me from most of that and poor Jules was up half the night). Now, my question is, and I actually know the answer, why move us? There were four other double rooms in the place, one of which had only one person and he was the smoking/talking Tunisian guy. Pretty much, we figure that we were women and so could be inconvenienced to move. We also think he was trying to squeeze in a Japanese couple that had just arrived (they were sitting in the lobby) and who were going to stay more than one night. Oh well, first come first serve and damn it, I am not sleeping in a conference room on my birthday after having just had a nice day!

Oh, before I go, two things, flew out of Tunisia the next day, without a hitch, OK there was a bit of confusion about who was going to take us as no one really seemed to want the foreigners in their cab and finally one guy asked us if we even needed a cab. We looked at each other and him like he was crazy. Who the hell stands out next to a taxi rank with a big backpack on, in the rain, if they don't need a taxi?????? Huh???? Yes, of course we need a taxi!!!!! So, got the taxi and go there much cheaper than Sus and Jules had come in (mentioned before, I know, just rubbing it in if Jules and Sus are reading). AND, two, I did get another yummy Italian ice cream before I left (forgot to mention that) - Chocolate Fondant (heaven!). So basically, I ate sweets for my meals the entire day before. Had to add that as I knew you were just so worred that I didn't get another ice cream...

CARPETS AND TEA GALORE

2007-05-20T16:42:00.001-07:00

Kairouan, the forth holiest site after Islam (has the Great Mosque, the oldest in North Africa as well as Bir Barouta, a well that is said to be connected to Mecca) and probably the most local feeling place that we visited in Tunisia – oh and the major carpet producing city of Tunisia. While the big package tour buses did come in, they stayed only a couple hours leaving the city void of tourists by mid-day and us free to wander and get a sense for this quaint little city. We arrived around 5:00 after our 4-5 hour louage ride from Jerba so we were a bit worn and dusty and tired feeling and really not sure what kind of hassle we might get in this new place. In fact, it was fairly hassle free and we settled into the hotel before heading off for a wander through the city. Well, not so true, our first goal was to find an Italian gelato place that was supposed to be located in the nouveau village section. It, as would seem to be the case when we want ice cream, was closed. Ice cream free, we headed back into the medina and began a wander through the narrow twisty back streets. The town was full of wonderful doors in blue and green with fantastic iron designs on them and little sweets shops around every corner. Many of the doors in the streets were open and inside working away were shoe makers, furniture carvers and rug weavers. On the streets, the locals were out buying bread and fruit and going about their evening businesses having a chat and a laugh and it had such a nice wonderful feel to it.

Since we had actually managed to eat well the past few days and were loaded up with grease filled sandwiches from that afternoon, we decided to make a sort of picnic thing to eat on the terrace of our hotel (LP said there was a terrace). This turned into quite a little treasure hunt as we decided that we wanted some of the lovely strawberries that seemed to be everywhere, peaches, cheese, yogurt, bread and tomatoes. No problem getting the bread (vendors on the street everywhere with wonderful fresh stuff), fruit and yogurt but good cheese and tomatoes seemed to be a bit more challenging. We ended up with a pull tab tin of Austrian processed cheese spread (thought it would be better than the laughing cow triangles) and after much searching, four lovely tomatoes (and a cucumber!).

We had seen the tomatoes a little earlier in one of the back streets and were not quite sure exactly where. None of the main fruit vendors seemed to have tomatoes and after several tries, we decided to ask the bread vendor. When I told him I was looking for a tomato, he just about died laughing. Apparently this was a very bizarre request. So, we carried on and tried asking another vendor, who also laughed. We then tried a nice woman walking with her daughter and held up the other produce that we had purchased hoping to give a better indication of what we were after. She understood but couldn’t help. It was about this point that one of the annoying shop guys appeared to try and drag us into his store. As we looked a bit confused, he said, “are you looking for something?” and I simply replied, “oui, je cherche un tomate” (yes, I am looking for a tomato). He was quite stunned and confused by this and immediately fell into silence. We escaped. Hmmm, what a great way to get rid of these guys, eh? For once I was actually looking for something but apparently something so confusing it completely baffled these guys. It continued to baffle as we had a couple more shop keepers try to get us into the stores and each time we replied with the “je cherche un tomate” (my spelling is probably totally wrong with that so I am sorry) they would look at us blankly and we would escape. Note to self, always request something that they won’t have or be able to find for you and you gain a few seconds to escape!

Tomato goal achieved, we headed back to the hotel to enjoy the lovely evening on the terrace. Well, the hotel guy looked at a bit odd when we asked to go to the terrace but he brought us up there anyway. Turned out to be a great place to hang laundry and not much of a terrace but hell, it was outside, away from hassle and had a nice view over the city. The hotel guy was quite charming and quite taken with Jules and set us up with a nice little table of stacked bricks, a couple of chairs and then, most wondrously, appeared with a small pot of tea to go with our meal. It was quite a grease free meal and quite lovely!

The next day we decided to tackle the carpet shops and see exactly what Kerouaine had to offer. They actually did have quite a number of nice carpets to look at ranging from Kilims to silk Persian carpets. Many of them were quite nice. Our challenge was not just to find a carpet and get it at a good price but also to see how many glasses of mint tea we could squeeze out of them. Think we managed about five through the course of three stores. It is quite q nice way to refresh yourself when you are tired. In one store we actually felt quite bad though as the guy was really trying to find a carpet for us and we just did not like a single thing that he had. No matter what he brought out we had to say, “sorry, don’t like it” and he would scurry off to find something else. He did look a bit depressed when we left without even contemplating a price on a single one.

We even managed lunch in one of the carpet shops – with our own food that is. However it was very gracious of them as we had not bought anything yet and after I did, they were not very happy with me, or at least appeared to be unhappy as they do…Jules did a fab job of negotiating her carpet and even had me feeling uncomfortable. It appeared to be the battle of who could remain silent for the longest period of time and Jules clearly won as she walked out with the carpet for less than half of what he was asking even after he had done a start off reduction. Basically she just stalemated him and I don’t think he was used to it. The conversation went something like this:

“OK, 250DT”
“hmm, no, I was thinking more like 80DT”

Silence, Silence Silence, more silence…steph feeling uncomfortable and really hoping someone would say something soon!

Carpet Guy: “OK, I can go 220DT”
Jules: “No, too high, how about 100DT”

Silence

Carpet Guy: “100! 180 does not even cover the cost of the materials, let alone the labor”

Silence, Silence, Silence…me uncomfortable again…

Jules: “Hmmm”…Silence
Carpet Guy: “OK, 150DT”
Jules: “No, still too high…110DT?”

Silence…carpet guy caves, come across room and says, 120DT?
Jules: OK

Carpet guy then had the audacity to ask Jules to give him a tip for the wrapping and folding of the carpet…as if he still did not make a pretty penny!

After that, it was time for some sweets from the sweet shop and then another Louage off to our next destination…back to the coast and the beautiful Med.

LAND OF STAR WARS AND LOTUS EATERS

2007-05-20T16:03:00.000-07:00

So, well, where did we leave off? I believe it was with Sus and Jules’ arrival and our planned trip to Carthage, that most famous of cities. It is only a short train ride outside of Tunis so extremely accessible and convenient. It covers an area of about two kilometers along the coast and some bit inland, which I do not have the exact details on. The main bit, central, forum area is called Brysa Hill and commands spectacular views (excellent views seem to be a thing in Tunisia) along the coast. There is not much remaining of the ruins in general and sadly, they are spread quite far apart and surrounded by modern buildings and neighborhoods, which means you have to pick your way through neighborhoods to get to the parts you really came to see. This is not meant to be picking at Carthage and saying that it is not an absolutely phenomenal place, because it really is extremely amazing. Thankfully they have done a few models of what it must have looked like so you don’t have to completely use your imagination, and WOW! We didn’t have enough time to see the entire thing and the weather was not quite cooperating so tromping two kilometers and zigzagging back and forth in the rain that kept appearing did not sound like such a fab idea so we settled on sticking pretty close to the center section and doing a good job of checking those bits out before we had to head back to catch our overnight but.

What we did see though, was:
-A lovely amphitheater surrounded by a wooded area that was once one of the largest in the Roman Empire, holding 36,000 spectators.
-Cisterns that held the Carthaginians’ water supply and, I believe were the third largest in their time. As cisterns go, they were most certainly the most impressive ones that I have ever seen and probably ever will see.
-A reconstructed Roman Villa with views that beat just about anything I have ever seen. Hell, the house didn’t seem too shabby either with a lovely courtyard, mosaics and all. The scattering of chipped and broken statues didn’t hurt the ambiance any either.
-The Antionine Baths (old Roman baths) located right on the sea edge. It was the largest outside of Rome with a 22m by 42m frigidarium (cold room) in the center. Most of it has crumbled but you can still wander around the underground portion of it and see how high the floor must have been. One lone column has been resurrected and it reaches 15m high. This was, for me, by far one of the most amazing places on the visit.

After our wander and getting a bit damp, we headed back in to Tunis to shift gears and head for the overnight but. Definitely not one of the better overnight bus journeys but really, you never expect them to be all that great anyway. The driver had a nasty habit of speeding up and then slamming on his breaks, pitching us forward and almost off the seats onto the floor. Oh, should explain that we did get lucky in that all three of us had two seats to ourselves, which is why we were almost pitched onto the dirty sticky floor as we could actually lie down a bit. While I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep, I did learn that, yes, in fact, I could curl up completely on two seats and only have my head a touch in the aisle (it only got smacked a couple of times). I believe I gave Sus a bit of a shock when we had a pee/food break in the middle of the night and well, the line for the women’s bathroom was just a bit too long so, what could I do but sneak on into the men’s toilet. Clearly it was unoccupied at the time so no fear of bumping into anyone, just the shock factor for all the nice little Muslim women queued up. I do realize that this was not quite the appropriate behavior but given that there were four women ahead of Sus and I, and they were all looking at each other waiting and rattling the door handle in hopes that whoever was in there would come out, it did not seem promising that I would be peeing any time soon unless I took matters into my own hands. That said, I ducked right in and right out before the woman came out and was back on the bus trying to get a quick nap in before the driver took over again and had us tossing about.

Our destination, which I do not believe I mentioned yet, was Tatouine, a little town in the middle of nowhere but surrounded by Ksours (fortified Berber strongholds consisting of many ghorfas (literally, room; especially a long, barrel-vaulted room built to store grain). Both Jules and I were quite sure that we needed and wanted to head to this town but upon arrival at 5:30am, we became quite uncertain what in the world we were doing there. We had just sat down in the bus station waiting room, opened our Lonely Planets and read, “There’s no photogenic medina to explore and little to recommend this town…” followed by how grim accommodations in the town were. Not a bonus at 5:30 and we both thought, huh, and then voiced “Why are we here again?” Sus was not particularly pleased by this as we had dragged her out there and assured her that there was quite a bit to see and do. In fact, we did find a nice little hotel that was not at all grim AND there was quite a bit to do in the area. When I say “quite q bit” I mean many, many ksuors to go see.

We took a bit of a nap and then headed out to face the world. After debating tourist vehicle or taxi, we negotiated a taxi for a few hours to take us to Chenini, Ksar Ouled Debbab, Ksar Ouled Soltane and Douiret. They were all quite different in feel and levels of repair (or disrepair). The first one we visited was being converted into a four start hotel of sorts, which is probably a good thing as it looks as thought it might have been a bit of a circus environment before. There were a number of fiberglass dinosaurs about that appeared to be in various stages of disrepair, a few missing limbs. At one point, we opened a large door (clearly an entrance or exit at one point) which lead to a few more dying and falling apart dinosaurs and rows and rows of these ghorfas. It was like walking out of the modern world back in time to a deserted city. Our next Ksar was completely abandoned and wonderful to wander about. The homes were carved out of the sides of the mountain and crept up to the very top, which looked like a bit of a crumbling castle. Our taxi driver had grown up there, which was quite nice, as he took us on quite the little tour about the city and showed us his old house as well as gave us a bit of history on the place (all in French, of course). After that, we went off to a ksar that was mostly abandoned but in which a few people still lived and finally we ended with a much re-constructed one that had some fantastic ghorfas for us to poke about.

We finished the day, as usual, trying to find somewhere appropriate for women to sit and eat dinner, which we found after a few tries and several streets later. Lovely restaurant owner, again, people here are wonderfully friendly in the right places and we had a tasty roast chicken dinner. Oh, I should in fact mention that the name of the city, Tatouine, is in fact the inspiration for the name of where Luke Skywalker is from.

My, I have forgotten one very special thing about Tatouine…it is famous for Corne de Gazelle, a cookie that could just about kill you with sugar and oil. While it seems near impossible to get a sit down meal in a little restaurant without it being packed with men, sweets appear to be quite easy to get your hands on. This cookie is absolutely insane…the insides are chopped up almonds, sugar and sesame wrapped with a dough, deep fried for 10 minutes and then soaked in honey for 20. Divine, assuming you only have one, well, one a day that is! Thankfully they turned out to have a wider range than just Tatouine and we at them throughout the trip. Since I am on about food, I probably should mention that we did manage to figure out the food system and get fed quite well. The little stand-up fast food shops proved to be quite safe but limited to shwarma/kebab sandwiches, pizza, tuna sandwich things and roast chicken with frites. While generally tasty, they really greasy and prove to be a bit tiresome after a couple of days. Oh, and the tuna in Tunisia, is all canned.

The next day, we headed off to Matmata, a city famous for its Troglodyte (Berber underground dwellings) as well as for being the setting for Luke Skywalker’s home planet. They filmed some scene there in one of the dwellings, which is the main reason that most people trek out to this little town in the middle of nothing. It took a couple of Louages (shared mini-van things) to get there but we made it mostly without incident. We did have a moment when coming out of the gas station, the back doors to the van flew open and out went Jules’ bag and up went our voices as we went, “AAAGGGGHHHHH” not knowing the words for, “My bag has fallen out the back!” in French. The city really did not have much to offer but a few crater like holes in the ground with rooms/dwellings off of them and the Star Wars set place. We basically faffed about, had a beer at the Star Wars bar and then settled in to our little cave room.

The cave hotel was quite charming but did have a few tour groups tromp through who all found us quite a novelty. I think we were the only people staying there as high season hasn’t quite started up yet. At one point an entire group of Tunisians came through and we invited a couple of the women peeking in to step in further and have a look and before we knew it, the entire group was piling on in and asking us who we were and where we were from. Felt a little like a caged animal. Even more so when one of the women came back in and said, “Which one is the American?” and Sus and Jules pointed at me and she checked me out a bit, then said, “OK” and walked out.

Dinner was included with our hotel room that night and for being the only guests they sure put out quite a spread. We had a table set out down in our little crater hole under the stars. They started us off with a lovely tomato based soup followed by a briq (egg fried in a pastry type empanada shaped thing). After that we had a massive bowl of lamb couscous that we barely made a dent in and finally several little cookie things that were fried honey dough stuff stuffed with fig compote. It was lovely to have a nice relaxed dinner and not have to worry about where it would be and if it was an OK place for us.

We headed off fairly early the next day to the little island oasis of Jerba. It was about four hours away so we wanted to get in early enough to enjoy the afternoon and have a couple more good days after that as Sus had to head out that Sunday. Another fairly uneventful Louage trip although we did seem to have an excessive amount of police checks. It got more and more excessive as we got closer to the island, which did seem a bit odd. At the ferry landing we were stopped three times in a matter of ½ mile for police ID checks. It wasn’t really clear what was going on as they didn’t really seem to look at them very intently and no one seemed to be in charge of anything. The best we could make out was, despite all the uniforms being rather ill fitting, that the men with the poorly cut, too big, leather jackets and knee high boots (very Gestapo looking) were more important than the ones without the jacket. We did get honored, at the final check, by a man we think was a very very very important member of the force rather than just the very very important leather clad members. He had the leather AND a very bright white patent leather sash/belt thing, two badges and a nice pair of Ray Bans on. We found out later that it was some Jewish pilgrimage week and that several years ago there had been a bombing during this time so they are a bit cautious about it now.

In Jerba we opted to stay in the city center area, Houmt Souq. We stayed in an old funduq, or old lodging house for the traveling merchants and their camel caravans. Despite Lonely Planet describing Jerba as Homer’s land of the Lotus Eaters, we all found it a bit tired and tatty, although still worth a visit. The city center was very much geared toward the package tour day trips from the beaches with endless souvenir stalls selling fairly sun faded and worn looking trinkets. They were worth a wander but not really worth a purchase. We stayed on Jerba for a few days just taking in the scene, wandering the city in the morning and heading to the beach in the afternoon. It was quite a lovely long stretch of beach although not the best tended for trash duty and also quite lined with large hotels for the package holiday makers. We were a bit disappointed our first day as we stopped in at the first public beach but the next day we found a much nicer spot further down, although not without a minor annoyance.

As we were on a public beach, we did not have the protection of the hotel security guards who, in a large part, keep the local Tunisian men from chatting up the tourists on the beach. The first day, we did a fair job at giving off enough evil eyes to keep them at bay but on the second day (it was just Jules and I as Sus was feeling a bit poorly) we did not do such a good job. We had decided to walk a fair bit down the beach to see what else it had to offer, which of course, meant we were prime targets for a chat up. Well, the guy did have a bit of useful info, namely that there was another public beach just a bit further down, but when he picked up his buddy along the way, we knew we might have a situation. All in all it was not too bad, more awkward. We chose a nice little palm umbrella to station ourselves under and they just sort of decided to join us. That mean that neither of us felt comfortable stripping down to our bathing suits – figured that might give them more incentive to stay. Jules opted for the “yes, I am asleep, please leave me alone” approach and I opted for the “oh, so sorry, just really want to read my book”. It seemed a pretty good tactic but alas, for some reason they still thought just sitting there was a good thing despite the fact that we were both ignoring them and when asked questions, were quite short. Finally, after about 20 minutes, they got the hint and wandered off and we were free to enjoy our afternoon. You may be asking yourself why were just didn’t tell them to bugger off, well, they were actually quite nice and had been friendly enough and seemed to just want to chat so being rude did not really seem like a nice approach and neither of us could really figure out how to politely say, “leave us alone” apart from what we were already doing. In any case, it turned out to be a lovely afternoon at the beach and the water was warm and fantastic and beautiful and everything that it should be.

Other than beach, we found a nice little restaurant to eat in where the owner adored us and was just thrilled to have some foreigners popping in each night. We did try to eat at other places but Jerba seemed to close quite early and when we did go to the other restaurants they were either down to just fish (didn’t work for me) or closed for some reason like, well, it was Saturday night – who knows! One problem might have been the fact that we had the tendency to eat quite late as we got distracted with other things in the early evening like finding a nice café tucked away from the noise where we could have mint tea and a sheesha pipe without being stared at by a large group of men. In fact, we found quite a wonderful little place with a balcony and fantastic people watching and the boys that worked there were quite happy to continually ply us with the local cookies to compliment our mint tea. All in all, quite nice!

On Sunday (last Sunday this would be), Sus had her flight out back to London leaving Jules and I with another five days or so to wander about Tunisia. The two of us headed to the louage station where we grabbed a quick kebab sandwich to go with the hope that the louage would leave soon. Unfortunately we had about a 45 minute wait before we were full of people and then the two of us got a bit ripped off with the price. Basically they wanted us to pay the entire fare up to Tunis when we were going about three hours short of Tunis. Took a bit of back and forth and Jules and I getting ready to get out of the van before he lowered it 3DT. It wasn’t quite enough but as we had already waited 45 minutes and didn’t really want to wait for another van to Kairouan or a van to take us to another city where we could switch, we decided not to be too stubborn and just stayed on board. Also, we probably would have had one hell of a time getting anything at all if we had gotten out of that louage as they all talk to each other and I think we would have been black listed. And so, off we finally went.

Just on a side note before I go, did I mention the toilets in this country? I think I may have gone a step down…well, a step down from Morocco but maybe still a step up from India. We were forced to come up with a rating system though – those that make you want to vomit and those that don’t. It was always a good feeling when one of us came back from the loo and the response was, “didn’t make me want to vomit!”

pixs from Kerkouan (punic ruines) and Bizerte

2007-05-14T11:58:00.000-07:00

Here are some pixs that I stole from someone else so that you could see a little of what I saw.

TUNA OR TUNISIA??????

2007-05-06T03:49:00.000-07:00

So, the question comes up if Tunisia is named after tuna or if tuna is named after Tunisia. There seems to be a plethora of this fabulous fish, my personal favorite as many of you know (note the sarcasm?) Or, maybe it is Tunisia that is named after after tuna! I personally am voting for it being tuna that is named after Tunisia. There is not a menu that I have found, well at least in my paltry five days here, that does not feature this proud, fine fish. In fact, it is near impossible to get away with ordering a sandwich, crepe or pastry/pie thing without tuna appearing in it somewhere. I have already been blesssed with it on a couple of occasions - on my first day it appeared in an empanda type thing. Feeling quite good about having managed, yet again, to communicate in French ( I am really thanking Mme. Miller these days for being such a strict French teacher in High School as I am getting by passably well in Morocco and Tunisia with my little remembered French). In any case, I cleared up right away that the pastry did not have tuna in it and was told that it was formage et salami. Sounds OK right? Well, if that was cheese and salami, they have a very interesting version of cheese and salami. First bite was OK, nothing really but their very spicy Harissa sauce. I looked inside and saw something that looked like cheese, took another bite and found it to be potato. hmmm, interesting. The next bite yielded more spicy stuff and something a little fishy, if you get my drift (hee, hee - OK bad joke). At that, I looked a little deeper into the pastry and sure enough, TUNA!

I tossed that and headed for a crepe shop where I requested a cheese crepe. The waiters was shocked that I did not want tuna and I explained that I did not eat tuna. Apparently he didn't care about that and decided to give me a crepe with tuna anyway. I returned it, and he took away the offending one, which he was more than happy to do as he just ate it and made me a new one. Since that I have managed quite well in avoiding the offending fish and have had many a pleasant meal (although a few small panic attacks with me shreaking, "wait! no thon!" as they were reaching for it> I found a fabulous little place in Tunis called Carcassone - well I didn't find it, Lonely Planet did. I went there on my first night in Tunis, second night in Tunisia. Has a great set meal for 5D and that is for three or four courses depending on if your second course has meat and veg or not. I went for the couscous so only did a three course. I ended up there my second night in Tunis as well and they recognized me from the night before and greeted me like I was family, smiled, took me back into the kitchen to taste the soup before I ordered it and showed me what the other stuff was they had on offer.

Sounds silly, I am sure, to go to the same place two nights in a row, but let me explain why. This country, like most Arab countries, is very male dominate and the restaurants are full of men. At night, the coffee houses, snack shops, bars, and restaurants are all full of men and not very welcoming for a single female. Especially a single Western female as all they do then is sit and stare at you. I am quite happy to hide behind a book but it is a little off-putting when there are 20 of them sitting there staring at you and seemingly doing nothing else. For the most part, it is also not clear what places are appropriate for me. Many of these cafes and restaurants are "men only" and so I am not even welcome in them. Apparently the women friendly places tend to be cleaner and better decorated but I have seen few of those and even fewer that have females in them at night. So, that said, after getting back late at night from the ruins in Dougga, I opted for the easy, I know it will be good, route and headed to the same restaurant. Had a fab time and another good meal. It has been extremely frustrating not being able to find places to sit and have a tea or a quick snack easily and I have already spent many an hour wandering aimlessly looking like a forlorn street urchin in search of something to fill her stomach. I am surprised that I have not begun digging through trash cans...oh, guess that would require that trash cans be available as well! At least Tunis has an amazing central market that I an escape to where I can pick up fresh bread, fruit, cheese, meat and fish. Clearly I am not picking up the fish but the cheese, fruit and bread is all quite tasty, not to mention the olives. The vendors are all also quite nice and they have let me graze my way through their stalls before deciding on my purchase. The fresh herbed ricotta cheese is to die for and with some olives, bread and strawberries, makes a fab picnic! I must say though, that I do miss all of the mint tea that I was drinking in Morocco. While do certainly do have the tea here, it is harder to come by and not nearly as tasty...besides they charge and arm and a leg and don't even give you a small silver pot of it, just a little tiny glass.

So other than scoping out the food scene, what have I been doing...I arrived in Tunisia via a night in Barcelona. Sounds stupid to go to Barcelona on the way to Tunisia given that I was in Morocco and only an hour and a half flight away but the ticket was a couple hundred dollars cheaper if I did it that way. Sure I spent a load in Barcelona, but hey, I got a night in Barcelona. I do wish I would have spent a couple of nights there but for reasons I will not bore you with, that did not happen. Turns out that it was probably for the best as the one night in Barcelona cost me about three days of living in Tunisia. The hostel was an exorbitant 22 Euros, and as they did not give sheets or blankets, I was very happy that I was still dragging along my sleep sheet. Basically the cost gave me a bed in a dorm room with a pillow and a bathroom with a shower tap like those in public toilets that you press and they run for 10 seconds then turn off. Very frustrating when you have soap in your eyes and have to find the tap again.

For as short as my time was in Barcelona, I really enjoyed it. I spent the afternoon walking around Las Ramblas checking out the street actors (incredible - I have never seen anything like it. I would have posted pixs but as I don't have a camera anymore, you will have to go there to see for yourselves). I also wandered over to a few of the Gaudi houses and churches and checked out the outsides of them. They were all closed by the time I arrived so I guess I will have to save those for another time. From the outside they looked like something from Alice and Wonderland mixed in with Nightmare Before Christmas and Dr. Suess. One of the buildings had snakes and lizards crawling down it and snails up it with spires that looked like soft serve ice cream cones with little orange gum drops dotting the sides. I still need to see Spain so figure I will be back at some point in my life anyway. I did have a plan to get up early the next morning and go out to the beach and possibly try to get into one of the buildings before I left. Apparently I was a bit more tired than I thought and I slept until 9:40 and had a checkout of 10:00 from the hotel. It was a quick up and out and then off to the airport to head to Tunisia.

Flight was uneventful and mostly empty. Headed out of the airport to take the bus into the city and ended up meeting a very nice non-traditional Tunisian woman who tipped me off to a bus that went directly from Tunis to Bizerte, the city I was planning on heading to the next day. Lonely Planet didn't mention anything about a bus from the airport to Bizerte so I assumed it was not possible and was standing outside waiting for the bus to downtown Tunis. I had asked her what time it was expected and she checked for me and told me it was about a half hour out. I decided I just might take a taxi and went across to the taxi stand where they wanted more double what it should be. I said no, they dropped it to about double and I still said not and headed back over to the bus stand. Leila (Tunisian woman) asked me what happened, I told her and she confirmed that it was WAY too much. We got to talking and that is when she mentioned she was heading to Bizerte. I decided to go straight there and as the bus to Bizerte was late, we spent a couple of hours chatting in broken French and English and have a coffee in the coffee shop.

She was an interesting woman, worked for HP, lived with her fiance (very bad thing to do here - well, really not done here) and had given up her French citizen ship to be Tunisian (I believe she was born in France but her parents are Tunisian). We had a good bus ride and when we arrived in Bizerte, she helped me find my hotel, which was a very good thing as while it was on a grid, the planners decided to throw in a number of diagonals and curvy roads just to make it more fun.

Once settled in I headed out to find something to eat (hah!). It did not go so well and the first place I had hoped to eat was completely empty inside (never a good sign) and had several grumpy looking men sitting outside scowling at me as I walked by. I didn't stop but kept walking. Target #2, I never managed to find. It might have been the conflicting directions or lack of street signs or diagonals that kept running across my path or even the annoying guy that decided that he should escort me there and chatted incessantly in my ear and then wanted to come eat with me. When I insisted that I did want to keep walking in the direction I was going, he informed me that I was not going the right direction (although he had no idea what restaurant I was looking for) and said I should go somewhere else. At that point I finally said "Please leave me alone!" and he replied "But can't I come eat with you?" Thankfully they seem to take "No" for an answer and go away.

I ended up circling back to a pizza place that I had read about (also another popular item here) and ended up either in areas with men filled cafes or down dark streets that did not look so inviting. I decided braving the men filled cafe areas was better than the dark streets and headed back up that way. As I was doing so, a nice man in a business suit asked if I needed help. I told him where I was going and he took me there "Directly!" but then had the awkward moment where I think he too was wanting to come eat dinner with me. I pretended not to understand what he was getting at and just said "Merci!" and ran off into the restaurant.
People here are very friendly and very very helpful. They actually seem to want to help you rather than bring you to their cousin's, brother's, sister's, aunt's shop or somewhere else that you don't want to go.

On my way home, I had a bit of a water mis-understanding. I stopped in a shop and asked the price and they said 3.50D (over 2USD). I said "La Shokran" (no thanks) and headed out of the store...of course I also told him that I thought that was very expensive. I was used to being told super high prices for cheap things in Morocco so assumed the same here. When I got back to the hotel, I asked the receptionist for a glass so that I could get some water ( you can drink from the taps here) and he could not understand why. I told him that water was expensive, he said "no", and then brought me back down the street with him to get the "right" price. Turns out the shopkeeper wanted 350D (that would be around 25 cents - some things are in the thousands here). I apologized, got the water and before I knew it was in a conversation about how much the guy liked Americans and how much he disliked Bush. Wasn't quite prepared for that in French so spent a lot of time saying "oui" and "non" and hoping that I was saying yes and no to the appropriate things.

The next day, I took a wander around the port city of Bizerte, seeing the kasbah, Spanish fort and beach. Bizerte was quite a lovely little city with very friendly people. Although the guides who wanted to take me on a city tour for 10-15D (USD8-12) were a little annoying as they kept saying, "Oh, that is cheap, very little money" and there really wasn't all that much that needed an explanation. the Kasbah was pretty and had tiny, windy streets with blue doors, shutters and window gratings along with some fabulous arches. It was sprinkling and a bit overcast so the streets were quite empty and lovely to wander about. The Spanish Fort, which is really Turkish, had great views out across the bay and ocean as well as the town. The med has such lovely water. The beach was fairly decent for a city beach - that is once I waded past all of the trash coating the upper part closest to the city. This isn't the main draw anyway and most people go to beaches just outside the city. It was fun to dip my toe in the sea regardless and I met a very lovely old man with one of those crinkly faces that lights up even more when smiles come upon it. He was walking down the beach shepherding his three grown camels and one baby camel. The baby was absolutely adorable and I called out to him to tell him so. At that he walked over to me with the baby camel following along side like a child clinging to its mother and fed the little beast some french fries from his sandwich. When I petted and scratched his soft brown curly head, he looked at me with those big, brown, baleful eyes and nosed my arm and nudged me with his head. So very sweet.

In the late afternoon the rain picked up so I sought shelter in the coffee shop in the Kasbah ramparts where I sucked up several mint teas (shockingly reasonably priced here), looked out over the water, listened to the pitter patter of the rain and continued to slog through my Wilbur Smith book (hope to dump that soon). When it had lightened up a bit, I headed back to the hotel to collect my belongings and head off to Tunis. I decided to walk the mile to the bus station and boy, you should have seen the looks I received. I am fascinating enough to the men here without my pack on my back but when I put that on, boy do I become some alien creature. At least it stops all the tisking and "bonjour!", "Alo!", "Ma Gazelle!" Well, not all of it, but certainly cuts down on it.

First night in Tunis was fairly uneventful. I stayed at a hotel that Lonely Planet called "An Oasis" but was actually far from that. True, the owner was very fastidious, nice and cheerful and happily gave me the largest room in the place, and charged me for it (it could take three people). After seeing what a true "single" looked like, it was probably for the best and I was much happier with that and spending the 5D more. The squat toilet could have used a few more cleanings though and the fact that I was the only female staying there and the only westerner was a little discomforting. I spent part of the night scoping out other hotels and even Lonely Planets mid-range hotels were not that great. I settled on one that was very conveniently located and seemed to have decent, clean, airy rooms. The shower turned out to be a bit of a 'thing' though. When I first checked out the place and after seeing the room and the toilet, asked to see what the shower looked like (it was outside the room), I got a very vague answer and was told to see it tomorrow when I checked in. When I checked in the next morning and asked to see the shower, I got another odd response and when I pressed it, was told that the shower was in use and to ask at night to use the shower. When I returned from Dougga that night (around 10:00) and asked to take a shower, the night guy told me to take one in the morning and said that there was no hot water. Very strange. At this point I was beginning to wonder if they even had communal showers. So, the next morning, I asked for the shower, as I had been told to do, and the morning guy told me to ask at night. I told him the night guy told me to ask in the morning and we went around in circles a bit until the guy finally said "OK" and told me that the showers were not supposed to be "Gratis" but that he would go ahead. He called one of the cleaning ladies and they had me use a shower in one of the rooms that had a private shower. I am still not clear on what was going on with the showers but it sort of made me not want to stay there after Jules had arrived, which I was planning on doing. It was a little too strange.

On my first day in Tunis, I actually left Tunis and went out to some fantastic Roman ruins in a town called Dougga. They are quite well preserved and many of them still have the mosaics on their floors. It feels strange to walk across something so old and have it still be so vibrant and beautiful and relatively intact. To imagine how long they have been there and how many feet have stepped over them is just awesome. Half of me wanted to skirt their edges and not walk on them at all for fear that another footstep would help deteriorate them even more and the other half of me loved that I could stand there in the middle of them and look at all the tiny pieces used to make such a lovely image. Of course, the best ones have been moved off to the Bardo museum in Tunis so they are well preserved. You could wander almost everywhere on the site and through most of the buildings. It was quite easy to imagine what it would have looked like and the amphitheater, that once seated 3,500 people was still mostly intact. Prosperity of the village was at its height in the 2nd to 4th centuries with an estimated 5,000 inhabitants. In fact, people were still living amongst the ruins until the mid 1950s and even today shepherds were grazing their goats and cows were roaming amongst the ruins on the edges. It was particularly lovely at the ruins right now as they were covered with yellow daisies and bright red poppies. It was absolutely stunning. Jackie, it would have been a painters dream for you - so many colors and so brilliant with the bright blue sky and ruins in the background.

It was quite impressive although made for a very long day as the bus ride was just over 2 hours and then it was another 3km from the crossroads to the site. I got lucky and as I was walking out to the site, got picked up by a lorry driver about 1/4 of a mile into the walk. On the way back, I walked it all but as it was mostly down hill, it was not too bad. I also had the promise of a cafe to sit in at the end of the road. Yes, I did a bad thing and invaded an all male cafe. It wasn't too bad though as the boy working the counter was a real doll and ran off to get me a coke (they only served coffee) and then sat down with me and wanted to have a chat. Made it much better and easier to avoid all of the eyes that were on me, wondering, I am sure, what the hell I was doing sitting in 'their' cafe. He even whistled down a Louage (like the Grand Taxi but a mini van that actually has a seat for everyone) for me and made sure that I knew how much to pay so that I did not get ripped off. When I got back to Tunis, I was recognized by the metro ticket taker who was thrilled to see me again and chatted away merrily. I am really amazed by the warmth of these people.

The next day, after finally getting my shower, I headed off to the coastal town of Nabeul for a couple of days. It is about an hour outside of Tunis and sits on the area called Cape Bon. It is also very close to some lovely long white sandy beaches and Punic ruins. It has a lovely local feel but you can also see the effect that the British and German package holiday makers are having on it as the small souq is loaded with trashy trinkets and souviners and men shouting, "Bonjour! Cava? Gazelle!" After receiving many different versions of the directions I needed to get to my hostel, I finally found it - Auberge de Jeunesse. It was a little hostel right on the beach - so close the waves should have been crashing on the back wall. A lovely little couple was running the place, which made it all the better. The only drawback that I found, was the mosquitos but I had those in Tunis as well. There is nothing better to disturb a nights sleep than those little suckers buzzing about in your ear all night long. Apparently I got a few of them as I found a couple dead in the bed and some blood on the pillow. Made me feel a smidge better for having got one but did not help with my fatigue.

I spent they day wandering the market and walking 3kms out to a weaving center that was closed when I got there and about which no one seemed to know, which made it all the harder to find. My lack of French did not help matters either but alas, I found it and found it to be closed. Couldn't be bothered to walk back out there again the next day but that is OK, the stuff looked like I could pass on it anyway. I headed back to Nabeul and began the search for food. The places that Lonely Planet had recommended had all changed quite a bit and were really targeting the tourists. The big ole VISA, MASTERCARD, AMERICAN EXPRESS signs on the window tipped me off to the fact that I probably did not want to eat there. I settled on a little sandwich/kebab shop and had a great chwarma made by two 19 year olds who were just excited to have me in the shop and kept trying to show me different things and explain the menu to me. It was quite fun.

So, this is where I had a bit of a break and an "I cannot believe it!" and me fed up with the men in Tunisia and pissed off to the point of almost crying that I was so absolutely horrified and disgusted. I cannot find words to express my sentiments and really I thought if I heard one more "Gazelle" that that person saying it would have felt the wrath of my rufy and would have had rained upon him a shower of words in a language that he did not understand but that would be quite clear from my angry red face. Clearly I am alright now as this happened about a week ago but it did have me in a piss for about 24 hours. The day had actually started out quite well and did go back and forth througout. The lady who owned the hostel was not doing breakfast but she decided that she would invite me into her living room, make me tea and press on me some biscotti like biscuits for breakfast as she did not have anything else. We had quite a nice time chatting away in her and my broken French but it worked and was very sweet. She even boiled some hot water for me for a bucket shower as the hot water heater on the shower went out. Think she was just glad to have someone in the hostel and looking forward to a chat with someone new. After the tea, I headed off to see Kerkouane, the worlds best preserved Punic ruines. They are positioned right on the water so I figured at the very least it would be a spectacular view. Even got a very nice Louage driver who after I tried to explain that I needed to get a taxi to the crossroads to the site and that I would walk from there, took me to a taxi driver and explained it all to him. I was very thankful as I was not sure if I could manage another pathetic attempt at French and another drawing of roads without knowing the word for crossroads or "I need to get off here". They were all very impressed that I wanted to walk the 1.5km from the crossroads, which I thought was quite funny as it is not far at all.

So, made it to the ruins and well, the view was spectacular and the ruins quite nice but really not all that much left to see of them. It was pretty much just the bottom foot or so of the ruins and then some very cool seated bathtubs, which are unique to this site. You could definitely tell that it was a spectacular spot even if there was not much to see. The location, for me, was what was really impressive - completely phenomenal! You could look both directions down the coast completely unhindered with waves crashing at your feet. I envy whoever had the waterfront houses as you could not get a better location. Had a lovely chwarma (kebab) sandwich on the rocks overlooking the ruins. Again, no other sea holds my heart like the blue of the med. sigh...I feel relaxed just thinking about it!

OK, after all that, I headed back to the crossroads and caught a lift back to the town of Keliebe (sp). This is where my little pissy, frustrated angry moment came in. In short (Dad, don't you worry, all is good an remember I have backup now!) the guy driving the car asked me if I would have sex with him and when "I said NOOOOOOOOO! I am not that kind of girl!" he offered me money. This did not make me feel any better and I still said "NO!" and then I got, "See, I have enough, it doesn't matter, how much do you want???" At that I tried to get out of the car. Needless to say, I got dropped about 1km from where I needed to be to catch my next taxi but at that point, it was probably a good thing. I was so angry and upset that I probably needed the km to calm down anway. After that I got a taxi down to the Port of Keliebe to go see the fort. Matters were not made any better by the guy on the scooter that decided to drive back and forth past me incessantly until I gave him such an evil look that I think he thought I would jump off the sidewalk and tear him off the scooter and pummel him. Too bad my eyes aren't blue, the evil eye would have worked much better!

The fort was actually quite lovely and has been a stronghold for many a year fromt he time of the Cathageneans (sp). It has been rebuilt adn built upon quite a bit so stands as a fairly intact fort, which is nice. Again, endless views out over the med with the sea stretching out on one side and rolling hills on the other. I don't think I will ever get over my love for the med sea - no other body of water holds my heart like this one with its shallow sandy areas reflecting a pale turquoise, getting darker as it gets deeper and over the rocks and finally merging into a deep sapphire blue. Absolutely stunning! Post fort, I settled my nerves a little at a cafe that looked out over the sea and a grove of olive trees. This and a tea al pignon (pine nuts) with a book was just what I needed for a bit of peace and quiet. Nothing like a cup of tea, eh? Although, maybe at this point, I could have done with a cocktail. Clearly I was still pissed off a bit about the sex and money thing...what in gods name are these men thinking? Or really, maybe it is all these stupid western women that I should be pissed off with. The ones that come out here and tart around and then make it frustrating for people like me.

Anyway, after that, I headed back to Nabeul and found a friendly face in the lady selling snacks. She tried to help me find an appropriate place to eat but I never did find the restaurant and ended up in a little touristy cafe where they were very sweet and and again, more than willing to explain the menu and everything else to me but fleeced me when it came to the bill. Left a pretty bad taste in my mouth and sent me walking home again thinking that these Tunisian men were all a bad lot. Guess I will have to avoid restaurants that don't have the menu with prices clearly posted smack in the middle of the place.

Next morning, the cute little lady at the hostel showed up at my door asking if I would like tea. She again had me into her living room and pulled out some bread and split her chocolate coated waffle with me while her friend (guess she stayed a bit late so slept over) snored peacefully on the other side of the coffee table from us. That part was a bit odd and I kept trying to be quiet for her but the hostel owner didn't seem to care how much noise she made and frankly, the woman sleeping on the floor didn't seem to mind the noise either. Guess you get to be a good sleeper when you share living quarters like they seem to here.

After the nice breakfast and more strange middle eastern soap operas and videos, I headed back to Tunis to meet Jules. I was quite happy about having her come out and spend a couple weeks with me especially after all the frustration I had been finding with eating and with comments from the fine (or not so fine) Tunisian men. Boy did I get a suprise, when I arrived at the hotel to meet Jules, there in the lobby also stood my tent buddy (first tent buddy from the overland trip) Sus! I was so excited I just about jumped on her and knocked her over, although I would be hard pressed to do that as she is 6ft tall and well, I am just a wee shrimp compared to that! In any case, it was all quite grand to have Jules AND Sus with me and got our bags settled in the hostel and went for a wander around town and to the Bardo Museeum to see the extensive collection of mosaics (the ones I still think should be out at the sites!)

We finished the day with beers at a mostly male cafe (yeah! I can finally sit down and have protection from the stares...well, at least not care at much about the stares!) and then headed off to the restaurant that I had found when I had last been in Tunis. They were quite excited to see me and welcomed Jules and Sus with open arms and fed us like we were queens! Even came out with appetizers and finished it all off with a couple of glasses of mint tea. Really was looking forward to the grand adventure the three of us would be having over the next bit. Headed to Carthage the next day but as I am just about up for time here and Jules really has no need to be on internet, that will have to wait for next time. Also, again, I have been quite verbose! Sorry about that!

WHIPPING THROUGH THE LAST WEEK IN MOROCCO

2007-05-06T03:08:00.000-07:00

Well, I feel as if I have gotten quite long winded these days so I will try to keep this short before I dump a massive one on you for my first five days in Tunisia.

Turns out the reason for our tardiness to the nice couscous dinner was that Wyonetta finally managed to get out of Briaham what he really wanted. At some point during out expedition, he decided that he wanted to go travel with her and see some of the sights in Morocco. I couldn't figure out if this was a ploy to get more money and continue as a guide or if he was sincere. Well, gee, gosh, golly, he really wanted to come travel for a bit and then have Wyonetta help him get a visa into Spain. Never mind that he did not have a passport...minor detail. Then it also turned out that the reason we had to go to the couscous dinner, despite the fact that the rest of the family had eaten and gone to bed was because Mohktar planned to squeeze in an extra day on our tab and he considered the lunch and dinner with his family as part of his package. That all came out the next day when we discussed the final price. We spent much of our last morning in M'Hamid trying to get away from all these men trying to tell us what we should be doing, where we should be going and who we should be going with and escaped off to a local restaurant. That didnt' help much as Briaham found us and hovered around where we were sitting trying to chat. At this point it was pretty unclear if Wyonetta wanted away from him or wanted him to come with us but she agreed for him to come with us...lucky me huh???

So after much frustration and annoyance we jumped in a not so grand Grand Taxi and headed off to Zagora to replenish our funds and to catch the bus to Ourzazate. This all went pretty smoothly other than the cost of the Grand Taxi to Ourzazate, which Briham was not happy about paying but which Wyonetta and I secured without telling him. I think he had grand plans about keeping us in Zagora for a couple of days with his mates from the store as they had an entire lunch cooked up and kept saying, "Oh, Why don't you stay a couple of days here, it will be nice!" No thanks!

Off we went to Zagora and here is where things got very strange. Brihams brother and Hassan were calling him non-stop asking where the rest of the money was for the hotel - Wyonetta did not have enough to cover both the camel trek and ht hotel and so had to take money out over a couple of days. Briham did not have enough money to cover many days of travel - only 500D and was eating next to nothing and every time we went to eat, he wandered off to his cousins shop to wait for us. He also had some weird document that needed to be signed by Wyonetta, with passport details and approved my the local tourist police to allow him to travel with her. I pressed upon her that she should not sign anything until she understood it completely and in the end, it restulted in quite a discussion between the two of them in front of the general police office while they discussed what they would do. She finally refused to sign anything, espeically since half our day was already wasted and that meant we could no longer get to Ait Benhaddu, the largest most impressive Kasbah in Morocco. I was pretty unhappy about this but more eager to get rid of Briham and be on my way.

Wyonetta had problems with her ATM card as well so this did not add to the fun of the situation. Ultimately, she got the cash and tried to give that and the wine we had bought to replace Hassans wine that we drunk, to Briham. He called Hassan to approve it all and that resulted in another big mess and finally with Wyonetta paying extra to save Briham's ass if he did not return with the correct amount of money and with her breaking and telling Briham that she did not want him to travel with us any longer. I was quite relieved with that. Although she did keep emailing and chat lining with him and almost decided to stay another week to meet up with him again. Never quite understood that for all her complaining about him, she was thinking about changing her flight to hang out with him more...whatever...

Quite happily we arrived at the bus station to find a bus heading out immediately to Boulmaine du Dades where we could catch a taxi out to the gorge. That went well enough and, of course, at the other end, we were greeted by a nice man in a blue robe who wanted to help us get there. We let him, knowing full well that he was a guide for the area and that we were not going to be quided anywhere. In any case, it was very useful him arranging a grand taxi for us and also getting us to a good internet cafe while we waited. The entire way up the gorge he kept telling us about the walks he could take us on and the fact that he was an expert on massage, Berber Massage to be exact. Just a side note here, Berber Massage is something that should be avoided at all costs. Bascially these guys just want to take the chance to rub their hands all over the Western women and to see how far they can go and how much clothing they can get off. It is truely vile this habit of theirs and very annoying. The hotel that we were brought to was quite nice and VERY cheap. We had a nice Berber Whiskey (mint tea) on the patio with the owner and were then shown all of this guide guys photos of various trips he had done and the people that were his "friends" all over the world and that loved his hikes. Ugh!

In any case, we had a lovely night that eve listening to the river gurgle by our window, eating nice food and watching the locals play their drums and a chzec girl give it a go as well. It was nice. Of course guide guy came by and insisted on giving us hand massages and wanting to give us feet and leg massages as well. We escaped quickly to our room hoping not to see him the next day. Oh well, too bad for that, we did have to see him the next day and sure enough he thought we would go on a hike with him. We took a pass and went out and wandered the gorge on our own. It was lovely and we found a little offshoot that was carved out by the river and looked like parts of Utah...can't remember the parks name as I have never been there but there are always pictures of it around. The brillant glowing orange canyons. Anyway, it was a nice walk and then we jumped on another bus in the afternoon to head out to the Todra Gorge. Figures that we would bump into guide guy as we changed from Grand Taxi to bus and he was quite pissy with us. He even asked for money for the hand massages. We both looked at him like he was crazy and said no and then he explained he thought we were going to go on a hike with him and that he had lost money. I replied, "too bad, I thought you were just being nice!" I have had it with these arab men and am quite disgusted by their behavior.

Todra Gorge was beautiful...rising 300 meters or something like that out of the ground. Unfortunately they have built a road through the center of it so it is packed with big tour buses half of the day but it is still stunning. We spent one night there and then headed out in another Grand Taxi - eight of us this time...all crammed in there...We joined up with a German couple for this bit and the afternoon bus to Er Racchidia where we would change for buses to Fez and Casablanca. The overnight bus was not too bad and as it was quite empty, we managed a good nights sleep.

Fez was not quite the exciting exotic city I expected it to be, in fact I did not love it too much. It was OK but nothing like the energy and excitement that you get from being in Marrakesch. It did have a very neat souq with lots of tiny, twisty lanes lined with shops. I was too overwhelmed to bother to look in them and they had the usual stuff that was everywhere else so I wasn't too bothered either. The salesmen also did not help their cause by being very verbose and yelling out at us at every turn, " hey sweetie, gazelle, come into my shop, what you looking for". They grab at you in Fez, which was particularly annoying. At dinner time, we snuck a bottle of wine into the restaurant - there is pretty much no alcohol anywhere - and the waiter helped us by pouring it into a coke bottle (it was only a half bottle) so that we could have it on the table. Funny thing was that we had to drink from the coke bottle - very strange feeling, wine from a coke bottle - and when I was brought the back to pour it into the bottle, the cook took the little bit that was left, put the bottle to her mouth and knocked it back. Then she gave me a big grin with her pudgy face and a twinkle in her eye and went back to cooking.

We only spent one night in Fez and then headed to Meknes to see the Roman ruins in Volubilis. They were quite spectacular, as are most Roman ruins (at least to me). We had hired a Grand Taxi with a Dutch couple so got there and to another city (can't remember the name but it is a pilgramige site) qutie easily and had an enjoyable afternoon. In the evening we poked around town a bit but it was not a very exciting place. The next day we were off again to spend out last night in Rabat.

Rabat was quite nice - clean, amazingly clean! It had a nice cosmopolitan feel about it and actually had women sitting in cafes in the Nouvelle Ville. The city was really geared towards locals and that was nice. The souq was packed with food vendors and junk clothing vendors and there were very few tourists around. I would have liked to have seen the Kasbah there as well but it was dark and it did not seem prudent to be wandering the street aimlessly at night. Also, my stomach was grumbling. Had a good dinner in a really local place (kofta sandwich, frites and Harrira - had to have the soup on my last night). We met up with some local rasta guys and they chatted away with us while we ate adn then showed us a nice little cafe with good mint tea. They were friendly enough and we enjoyed talking to them but really, I spent half the night wondering what they really wanted and when "my brothers shop" was going to come out. I hate having this feeling that everyone is out for something when maybe they really are not.

Early up the next day and off to the airport.

TEA CEREMONY AND FALLING DOWN TENT

2007-05-04T09:48:00.000-07:00

SAHARA SANDS AND DUNES GALORE

2007-04-29T04:33:00.000-07:00

After escaping the drunk bickering arabs, Wyonetta and I, safe in our room, debated whether or not we were actually going to be heading into the desert the next morning and who we would be heading in with and if we would even have food. At one point we were told that Mohktar had not yet organized anything - hence the strange email to my family with all details on the hotel and who I was traveling with. Pictures of Wyonetta and I stranded in the desert with groping, grabby arab men certainly flashed through my head as did the question of, if that happened, how the hell would we escape and where to! The desert is quite vast and my directional skills when there is absolutely nothing around are pretty bad. Think I missed the star reading course back in college but damn was I thinking that might just come in handy now.

The next morning when we peeked out of the door, no one was to be found...neither Hassan (thankfully) nor Mohktar. Hmmm, what to do now. However, about 10 minutes later, Briham (Mohktar's brother and one of the guides) showed up to take Wyonetta off to buy cigarettes for the trip and a few minutes behind him was Mohktar asking for our bags and running them out to two very loaded camels. This is impressive we thought as we really believed that absolutely nothing had been done to prepare for the trip. Bags loaded on the camel, we were off heading across the dried out river bed into the Sahara sands. We looked like quite the little band, us two girls with our two camels and three nomad (Tuareg) men dressed in their blue robes and turbans. We learned later in the day that our two camels were named Tomsaier and Zurich. Tomsaier turned out to be the nice quiet, docile, sweet camel while Zurich grunted and groaned loudly whenver anyone came anywhere near him with a bag or box. He was also quite the pig and when not grunting and shouting at us, was trying to grab bits of whatever shrub or bush he passed - belive me, in some spots there were not a lot of shrubs but boy did he manage to find something to eat.

I guess that the easiest way for me to give the rundown of the five nights/six days of Sahara trekking is to do it the same way I did the Nepal trek.

Day 1
Late start of around 9:00 when we finally left the hotel in M'Hamid, the end of the road and the beginning of the desert (post pannic email to family about should I not return...) Headed off into the desert - direction straight into the middle of nowhere -light hearted and light footed with our three decked out nomads and two well loaded camels. Travel was fairly easy over sandy, slightly rocky areas. Various camels, nomads and donkeys pulling carts were sighted off in the distance and in a few instances one of our guides would wander off for a quick chat with somone about 1km away and then suddenly reappear by our sides. They seem to be super fast walkers.

About mid-day, we stopped and had a rest under the shade of a tree (we had not yet hit complete desolation). Blankets and cushions were pulled out and Wyonetta and I were set down like princesses. The men set about making a fire and slicing and dicing things (we couldn't see but could hear and were much too busy lounging about to care). About 1/2 hour later, two lovely cups of mint tea appeared followed by an entire platter of fresh cut tomatoes, onions, green peppers, cucumbers and olives. All of this was, unfortunately topped off by some type of canned fish (definitely could have done without that) and accompanied by bread. Fortunately the fish was not in vast enough quantities to taint the entire platter and I was able to pick about and get the good stuff off the plate without much trouble. It was quite the spread and both Wyontta and I were in awe that they could create such a feast. Post lunch was siesta time and we all settled down to naps, books and chit chat. Think we post-lunched a little too long as when we came to, and were ready to carry on, the wind had picked up and the sand had started to whip about creating a haze on the horizon and dimming the sun to a dull yellow color.

We got all packed up and ready to head off but by then, the dust was pretty much surrounding us. At that point, I opted to be turbaned (I know, Jane, that is not a word and one cannot "be turbaned", however, it is the most appropriate term for me to use at the moment - at least in my little mind). Mohktar took about 9 meters of a red, orange and cream material out of one of the camel bags and proceeded to twist, wind and wrap my head up in it, finishing with a flourish and tucking the last bits of material across my face to cover my mouth and nose from the sand. Then came the comment, "oh, the eyes, so lovely!" Where they get these comments I just don't know as I am well aware that my eyes are all fine and good but not anything particularly unique or stunning. Blah, is all I have to say. So once wrapped up and with sunglasses on for further protection (tres chic, no?), we headed on. The sand got thicker and my contacts got grittier and gritter until I was pretty much in constant pain with buckets of tears streaming down my face. At this point, the wind had whipped up so much sand that you could not see more than a foot in front of you, if you could see at all, which in my case, I could not. Even having the turban over my eyes did not help and finally I had to stop and turn with my back to the wind, try to sort my eyes a bit, and then be lead on (blind) by Mohktar across the sandy field. It was so bad that they decided to stop near some trees and call it quits for the day. By that time, and when I unwrapped my turban, I was crying tears of sand.

Wyontta and I hunkered at the base of the trees while sand and wind, and even a little bit of rain whipped about us. Ten minutes later, it was completely gone and the sun came back out and the birds began to sing as if nothing had ever happened. Our nomad men began to set up camp, putting up the tent, getting the camels hobbled and searching for firewood. By this time, it was quite clear and lovely out so off Wyonetta and I set to help collect wood. Well, about five minutes into it, the wind came again and before we could get back, sand was swirling all about us. Wyonetta was out with Mohktar so was OK but I was off under another tree in a different direction and had serious visions of getting completely lost even though the camp was about 200m away. Clearly I made it back as I am still writing this darn thing and hopefully not boring you all too much.

So the wind stopped and the sand cleared and we had a fabulous sunset while sipping mint tea and snacking on nuts, dried dates and cookies. They definintely provided for us quite well and both of us girls were very amazed that they had pulled all this together - especially after the night before when it sounded like nothing at all had been planned. The boys set about taking care of the camels and getting dinner ready and before you knew it, we had steaming bowls of home made harira in front of us, followed by lamb tajine (not sure how I feel about the meat after it sat in the sun on a camels back all day but we didn't get sick so it must have been OK) and then the 'seasonal fruit' (orange with cinnamon).

After dinner we gathered around the fire under the stars. Apparently all of those sateites that we see flying about the sky are not really satelites but stars going across the sky to visit other stars in other areas. At least that is what our guides told us and when Wyonetta said to me, "Steph, come look at this shooting stars, they go so slowly out here!" I just about died laughing when I realized she meant the satelites and then with the follow up story about them being moving stars...well, you can imagine. So as we are sitting here enjoying our first evening under the stars, out of nowhere appears this new guy, wearing the required blue robe and turban, of course. He stops in for a bite and a jam session and there you have it, all four guys are all of the sudden banging on the water containers as drums, playing the castanets and singing and dancing. I am still not sure where this guy came from as there were no other people around and about an hour later, he got up and wandering off in to the desert and we never saw him again. Very odd. Apparently his camel was out there somewhere as well.

Day #2
7:30 or so breakfast with 8:30 departure once the camp was taken down and the camels were retrieved. I say that the camels are retrieved as they are hobbled in the evening and for lunch and then left to go roam. Amazing how far those suckers can actually get and many times our camel boy (Mohammad) had to walk a couple of KMs just to find them and bring them back.
The walk was mostly through dunes and sand and it was quite hard going. The camels are walked around the dunes but we walk up and over them for the most part or it would take hours. I cannot believe how fast these guys walk and even when they are leading the camels, are well ahead of us. By noon, I was about to die from the heat and the pain of going up and over the dunes and walking in the sand. I think they realized this so finally found us a nice shady tree to rest under.

Lunch was the same as the other day with the addition of a saffron rice and a starter of nuts and dates. Zurich was quite keen on the nuts and dates and even though he was hobbled, kept coming round and trying to poke his nose in our plate. We tried to shoo him off several times but he wasn't getting the hint until camel boy really got to him and then he limped off with his lower, saggy lip, flopping about looking like a child pouting. Of course, since we shooed him off, he felt the need to go way off and that meant it took camel boy about 1/2 hour to retrieve him. Tomsaier wasn't much more helpful that day and wandered off the opposite direction, also with the lower lip flapping away.

After a few hours rest, we carried on through the dunes. Wyontta (not very fit) jumped on a camel for a bit until her ass hurt too much and she had to come down. Apparently the underwear wasn't too helpful and added to the discomfort as it crept up. We stopped for the evening amongst the dunes and shrubs, quite an interesting landscape, which unfortunately I cannot share with you as this is where my trusty canon decided not to be so trusty and died completely on me. I think that the find sand of the Sahara may have gotten the better of it and now I am just hoping it can be fixed. That said, it was an amazing sunset and the sand turned a brillant amber color with the wind ripples shading bits with a dark black color. Very beautiful and very dramatic and boy, would have made a nice picture!

Dinner was harira and chicken tajine (again, weary of the meat as we weren't carrying any form of refrigeration) followed by, you guessed it, seasonal fruit! After dinner we sat by the fire again for a bit then I turned in a bit early to lay under the stars and enjoy the evening light. This is where the "do you want a berber massage?" comes in, which I politely, declined and turned away to go to sleep. Wyonetta, however, decided to dabble with Briham and well, that turned into quite a mess a little later in the week. In any case, she got the, "oh you must stay with me in the desert and the I love you" etc. etc. Silly girl.

Day #3
A half day today...first through old fossil fields and then up into some small dunes and finally to our goal - Erg Chigaga! This is a dune field of 40+Km with dunes over 300m in height. We arrived about mid day and the boys set about making us lunch and camel boy went off to some oasis somewhere 6kms away to get the camels water. Seemed a bit far to me as there were semi permanent places that had water closer but guess he likes to walk and an additional 12Km for the day is nothing to him as long as his camels are well cared for - and boy did her really care for the camels...Wyonetta reported that Briham kissed much like you would imagine a camel to so maybe they do spent a little to much time with their little hump backed friends.

We spent much of the afternoon under our little tent thing with the sides up covered in our turbans and trying to ward off the flies. I was much too hot to do anything more than that and thus we all fell asleep until sunset was almost upon us. At that point, we roused the energy to get up and head to the top of one of the 300m high dunes to watch the sun set. There was a sandstorm on the horizon so the sun was blocked a bit and hazy, making the dunes look like they were under a solar eclipse. It was quite spectacular looking at them in this strange glowing almost black and white light. As the sun dipped down, we did get some lovely blues and reds to finish it off.

This is also the day that my feet decided to follow my hands in their excessive peeling and, really, just plain falling apart. I would post a picture for you all to see what torment my poor little feetsies are going through but I think you would all be rather disgusted. Think a good pedicure when I get home aught to do the trick as they sure don't seem to be wanting to sort themselves out on their own with all my walking around in tevas and flip flops.

And back to more pleasant things, afte the sunset, we came down the dunes to find a nice little congregation of our Arab friends (our guides plus a bunch of other guides) sitting on the small dune above our camp. They were snacking on nuts and dates (I have really grown to love these dates) and chatting and drinknig whiskey and coke (whiskey had come from Sweden). So what could we do but join them. Later a couple from Minnesota or Wisconsin or one of those states (they weren't overly friendly so there is really no need for me to bother to remember what state they are from) joined us and out came the water canister drums and the castinets and the singing and dancing. The whiskey-coke tasted divine after all the walking we had done and went quite perfectly with the brillant stars shinning above and the drumming and singing. After that, it was off to bed under the stars for a good night of sleep.

Oh, two other things of note did happen that night: One, I got a shower (scarab beetle included, although I am sorry to say, he did not survive). There was a little shower block for the people staying at the semi-permanent camp and we took advantage of sneaking in there for a quick wash. It definitely beat the dunking of the edge of my pack tower into a sawed in half 1.5L water bottle for a wash, which is what we had been doing. Two, we had a Berber Omlette for dinner instead of a Tajine. OK, it is a form of Tajine but very different tasting so a welcome departure from the usual.

Day 4

The use of the word 'Directly' becomes a constant in my life. Mohktar left early in the morning to go join up with another group that was coming through and he left his brother Briham and Camel boy in charge of getting us back over the next three days. As we walked slower than the boys, actually I should re-phrase that, Wyonetta walked a lot slower than the boys as she was wearing a pair of flip flops most of the time and didn't want to put on her tennis shoes as they made it hard to walk in the sand. Lets just say she was not very well equipped or ready to do something like this. So, having decided to head out ahead, we enquired as to which direction we should take to get back out of the dunes. The reponse from Briham was "Directly!" with a wave of his arm in a vague direction forward. We weren't quite sure if this meant go straight up and over the massive dune in front of us or maybe wind around it. We asked if we should be walking toward the grassy, palm filled area we had seen on our way in (seemed to be directly on the other side as far as we could remember). Again the response was "Directly!"

Off we headed, directly, which turned out to not be the "right" directly. Funny that. We corrected and carried on that morning for about 2 1/2 hours across sandy stone field filled with old fossils that the boys kept picking up for us and giving us to look at. At around 11:30, we arrived at an oasis. It really was a true oasis with two sweet water springs, one in a well and the other coming out as a little creek and running along the edge of a walled area that was meant for the nomads and various campers that came through. It was amazing the life around this little creek. Palm trees and green plants lined the edges, frogs jumped about and fish were all over swimming through the algae. Both of us girls just wanted to jump right into it and splash about but we realized that would probably not be appropriate and settled for squatting down next to the water and having a small splash. It really wasn't big enough for much more anyway.

After visiting the creek and while Camel boy made lunch (Briham had gotten quite lax about doing his job after his brother left and was basically just hell bent on spending every second with Wyonetta) we headed to the small auberge/hotel next to the stream. Rumour had it that they had ice cold beers. And guess what? They did have ice cold beers and they were mighty refreshing. Wyonetta loved her drink and was struggling with not having a cocktail, wine or beer nightly, so she was particularly pleased and ready to settle in for the entire afternoon. Fotunately, Briham still had a little sense of what were were doing and how far we needed to go that afternoon and before she could order beer number 3, he ushered us out for lunch. Lunch was the usual although the amount of fish being used seemed to increase by the day. We did have an excellent lentil dish though and that made up for the excess in fish.

It was really quite a challenge to find the camels this day and Mohammed was gone for about 45 minutes before he returned with them and we were able to pack up and head out. Story was that we would be sleeping in or near a village that night. Wyonetta was particularly excited as they said she would have a chance to shower, which she hadn't done when we had the previous opportunity. Hmmmm, well, lets just say that no village appeared and we walked until the sun was almost down. Apparently our boys got a little lost out there in the sands and didn't find their way to the village. They even looked quite stressed and confused as they tried to find a place for us to camp amongst some small dunes before the light disappeared completely.

Camp got set up right quick and us girls were set up on top of a little sand hill with our tea and coffee and snacks to wait for dinner. We asked about the village and what happened and boy, isnt it just amazing, "What village?" popped out as did a lot of confusion and Briham all of the sudden not understanding English very well and not really knowing what we were on about. Mohammed didn't speak English so there wasn't any asking him. I think dinner arrived about midnight this night as Briham had taken to doing absolutely nothing but lounging around petting and kissing Wyonetta. Poor Camel boy got stuck with both his job and Brihams. Thought I would die of hunger before the night was out and almost fell asleep before the food came.

Oh, should mention that part of the delay in the food was that they decided to make a special nomad bread. It was absolutely fantastic but it meant making the dough, letting it rise, kneading it, moving the coals off the fire, digging a hole, burying the dough in the sand (sans cover) and then putting the coals back on top to let it bake. How we were not eatting a gritty sandy bread mass, I don't know. There was a lot of patting and scraping after the bread came out of the sand but the outside was nice and crusty and inside soft and warm. Don't think I will be trying that one at home though...Dad, maybe if you get ambitious with your bread making????

Day 5

This is the day we completely lost it. To begin with, we were lost which meant extra mileage. Adding to that was the fact that we were supposed to be checking out some fossils bu really were just walking through what appeared to be an old river bed that never, ever, ever ended. No matter which way we looked there was nothing but flat open ground, sand colored with rocks and more rocks. Oh, I am sorry, did I miss the two pathetic acacia trees (shade only if you sat at the base of the tree) that we stopped under in the almost five hours of walking and only because Wyonetta and I could not take the heat and walking anymore? We finally looked at them and said "Uh, could we get on a camel?" They appeared to be a little suprised that we were so beat and wanted to get on a camel. Sorry boys, we are not used to walking miles and miles in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the sun beating down on us.

Up on Zurich we went and he grunted and moaned and whined his displeasure before one of us even got on him. In fact we werent even near him and he was moaning. This was a bit better on the legs, although our asses sure did not think so. I think the heat made us quite loopy as we began to sort out what songs we could sing as we were jolted along on our camel. First up was Hotel California (Wyonetta decided I should know this one - I didn't and could only sing chorus/backup). Then came 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. After about 20 bottles we got bored and decided to try it out with different accents. British was definitely the winner and we sounded like two old biddies having a gay old time after too much wine (or tea as it may be). German didn't work too well and I think we ended up sounding more like that German sex doctor lady who is so famous for advising people and has that talk radio show thing (can't remember her name..ah, Dr. Ruth Westeimer). This was followed by a Julie Childs impersonnation of how to make a Tajine and sand baked bread in the desert and finally by a brief shout out by Yoda. By early afternoon, we were imagining cars driving by and waving our turbans fantically at them to come save us. I can now fully understand how people see things that are not there in the desert as at one point, a bush sure as hell looked like a camel to me. Oh, and yes, there really were cars off in the distance as by this point we had gotten close enough to civilization to have dirt tracks around.

We stopped early afternoon under another scraggly acacia tree close to some small dunes. Not much to report on the lunch as it was the same as the others. We all tried to take cover under the small amount of shade and our turbans. Couple hours passed and guess what, a sand storm decided to whip itself right up and keep on going throughout hte entire night. We only had a couple more hours to walk so got there as fast as we could as the wind whipped about us. Setting up the tent was quite the challenge but we got it done - several times as it almost blew over a couple times while dinner was being made. The wind howled all night (even rained a bit) and was still going the next morning (although much lighter) when we packed up to head out.

Day 6

At this point us girls had sort of had it with teh walking thing and prevailed upon Zurich to carry us the last 10km back to M'Hamid. Little embarrassing to be carried in but we were pretty beat so accepted the humiliation until we reached the winding streets of the town. We were brought to Mphktar and Briham's house first to unload the camels and also to stop in and have a tea. this was the amost amazing tea process I have ever seen. They made the tea in a little kettle that was set directly on hot coals that were fanned with one of those puffer things. The first setting of the tea is poured out as it is bad. More water is poured in, sugar added, glasses poured out and then back in (to mix the sugar appropriately). This went on for about 10 minutes before any of us got a glass of tea and I think that only four glasses were served. The tea was exceptional so I guess whatever they are doing works.

We were invited back for Tajine that afternoon after we had showered and set our bags down and rested for a bit. Boy that shower was nice, as was lying on a propper bed. My back was beginning to hurt from the thin flimsy mat we used in the desert. Someone should introduce them to the ThermaRest. The Tajine was like no other Tajine I had tasted. It came in an absolutely gigantic Tajine ceramic pot and was loaded with tender lamb and vegtables. Their sister had made it and complimented it with ther freshest cucumber I have ever tasted (wanted to use it as a cooling pack for my eyes), Moroccan salad (tomatoes and onions), an olive and pepper tapenade, olives and a sweet, shredded carrot mixture, and, of course, bread. All of this was followed by, you guessed right again, seasonal fruit of orange slices and cinnamon. We spent quite a bit of time relaxing there and enjoying chatting with Mohktar and Brihams sister in my little bits of French and her little bits of English.

Apparently we did not offend as we were invited back for a couscous dinner. Couscous has become quite a favorite of mine so having a home made couscous was particularly exciting. At this point my time on internet is running short so I will have to make the couscous adventure short as I would like to move beyond the Sahara on my Morocco trip. Suffice it to say, we were very late. We had gone back to do laundrey and Wyonetta had managed to get Hassan to find another bottle of wine from his collection. The man reminds me of one of those fat, greedy Roman men of the old day during Julius Caesar. Of course he was more than willing to find one for the outrageous sum of 150 Dirham or almost 20 USD. Then he proceeded to drink most of it. He found a second one, which he decided to late add to our bill and also enjoyed a fair amount of that. At this point Wyonetta and Briham decide to have a quick "five minute" chat, which turns into about an hour, meaning that it is almost 10:00 at night when we finally turn up at the house for couscous. I am petrified at the rudeness of it all and seek out Briham's siter and apologiwe profusely in my pathetic French. She tells me not to worry and says that she only just got home despite the fact that I am positive I saw her come out of the bedroom still pulling on her sweater. The dinner was fantastic and I really wish that I could have been able to enjoy it at a more restful pace. As it was there was a bit of tenstion and back and forth going on between Mohktar, Hassan and Briham so it was all a bit awkward.

Until next time....

MERHABA (WELCOME) HAPPY? HAPPY? WELCOME....

2007-04-26T13:18:00.000-07:00

I think that those above words were Mohktar, desert man extraordinaire's, favorite words.
But wait, you don't know who Mohktar the desert man is...so guess, at this point, I should back up a bit and explain who Mohktar is and how he came into the picture.

One of the days I was lazing about in the Cascades d'Ouzoude drinking my 20th cup of mint tea for the day, a blue robed, black turbaned man showed up with a Swiss girl and was sitting around chatting with a blue robed, blue turbaned man (turned out to be none other than car crashing Saiyd). The never missed question of whether I had already been to the desert or not came up and I got to (innocently) chatting with the three. I blindly assumed that they were all together and that they were there on holiday (Swiss girl had come out for a wedding). I was hoping to gain a little information on which part of the desert was best to visit. The big debate was between Erg Chigaga (300m high) outside M'Hamid and Erg Chebbi outside of Merzouga. Merzouga's dunes are small at 150m high and also supposed to be more touristy and visited than Erg Chigagi in M'Hamid. The bonus for Merzouga though is the pictures still looked quite spectacular and it appeared to be much easier to visit. Blue turbaned Saiyd was quite keen on Merzouga and had all sorts of plans and thoughts and input about heading out into the desert and gee gosh, he knew just the right person, but, well, we would talk about that later. Black turbaned man (Mohktar) did not say much at all on the subject but when Saiyd left and I pressed a bit more, out came the business card and sure enough, Mohktar was a guide in the desert area outside Erg Chigaga and should I wish, should I happen to get to M'Hamid, he would be happy to take me on a trek out there - for a good price as well! With that, he fished in his robes and out came a business card. This is all he said and even later when we sat with him to listen to the music and have a cup of tea (#25 or so for the day), he said nothing until I prompted, "see you in the desert" and he replaid "ensha allah" (god willing). I figured that was a pretty good sign as Saiyd and several others pestered me to set up trips with them for the next couple of days. I had also seen the pictures from the Swiss girl of her trip and learned that she had just spend two weeks with Mohktar and his family and was out for the wedding. All pretty decent signs to me that he was not your usual scam guy trying to take you in for tons of money. Besides all of the others quoted rates up in the $75 a day range, which was a bit much for my taste. It also turned out that Saiyd and Mohktar had absolutley nothing to do with each other - another bonus after the car incident.

So, off I went back to Marakesh, as you know already, which is where I met Wyonetta, a NZ girl. She was also quite keen on heading to the desert and so we decided to head out there together - I belive I may have mentioned this already. In any case, we did a little research about companies and who had good prices and nice trips and ended up agreeing to go with, none other than, Mohktar the nomad from the Cascades. I was a bit sad to leave Marrakesh as I really enjoyed the atmosphere of the place, just wandering around the souqs, drinking the mint tea, watching all the chaos and the colors flash by my eyes. Oh, and one cannot forget the fabulous little cocunut cookies that were being sold by street kids (and adults) all over the place. At first glance you swore they would be hard and cruncy and not so nice but boy, they were crunchy on the outside, slightly gooey as they pulled apart in your teeth and then soft in the center...so yummy. A couple of the days I managed to squeeze in four of those little suckers. At 1D each you really cannot go wrong either. The problem is that they are being sold everywhere so it is hard to pass them up. Now (I am in Fez) my problem is that I cannot find them anywhere and would absolutely love one!

However, I digress...back to Marrakesh and being sad. While Hostel Ali was not the top place in the world - the staff was absolutely horrible and you could stand in front of them for ages without them even aknowledging you (I think I might be a ghost) - it was a decent place to crash and had a fantastic buffet dinner and good breakfast with eggs, crepes, bread, honey, jam and, of course, tea for only 100D. The cockroaches in the room didn't even eat too much and as they were small, could pretty much be ignored. I hope my family is sitting down at that statement, yes, I actually remained calm and collected as the cockroaches crawled across the floor and walls (wait, the bugs get even bigger in the desert!).

Our last supper before jumping on the overnight bus to Zagora was had in the open market in Djema el-fna. As I mentioned before, late afternoon the entire square is converted into a giant restaurant with various stalls selling everything from steamed/stewed snails to the tajines and couscouse. Smoke rises from every corner and the waiters call out from every corner, "miss, here, lady, I have the best food for you, tajines, couscouse, escargot, tea..." the list goes on. The hard part is really trying to figure out which place to eat at as they all look fairly similar and all look good. Wyonetta and I pretty much decided to go with the stand that pestered us least and enjoyed our last supper under the stars amongst the horns, drums and castanets of the street performers.

Our bus was conveniently late - two and a half hours - so we did not go anywhere until 2:30am. By then we were quite tired and well, it was a good thing we were getting on the bus as I think we both would have fallen asleep on our bags in the street if it did not show up soon. Of course there was a lady in one of our seats and she refused to move so we had to deal with one of us getting stuck in the back row without a reclining seat. We did get lucky though and no one else tried to sit in the very back so Wyonetta got two seats to herself to curl up on and I jumped in next to the grumpy lady who wouldn't move for us and proceeded to whip out my blow up neck pillow, ear plugs and eye mask. Wyonetta gave me a sleeping pill and off I went for the majority of the bus ride. Apparently grumpy lady next to me couldn't get comfortable and moved about much of the night trying to settle in. Guess she gets what she desrved for not moving as we were both comfy, well, as much as you can be on a bus. There was a Lithuanian couple in the back row as well and the man was so tall that he ended up sleeping on the floor across the entire back with his girlfriend curled up on the two chairs across from Wyonetta. Overall I think we came out OK and when we arrived in Zagora at 10:00am, we weren't in too bad of shape.

The minute we stepped off of the bus, we were attacked by shop owner saying that gee, they would help us get a taxi to M'Hamid and help us give Mohktar a call to meet us, just stop in for a cup of tea. I am always up for a cup of tea so we agreed to check out one of the places and suck down a tea before we headed on. The tea process is far from short here and so it meant waiting for about 1/2 hour before we even got our glasses and also meant looking through many a photo album and testimonials from other travelers about what a great camel trip they put on. We got the tea but we never did get help with the taxi or with making the phone call. In fact, help making the phone call meant showing us the phone booth and when I kept getting disconnected from Mohktar, showing me again how to put in coins and that the phone did in fact work. I was none too pleased after the phone had sucked up 15d (almost $2) and I still had not figured out what in the world Mohktar was talking about. At best I got that some guy Lassen was going to meet up somewhere and help us get there.

Fortunatley for us, Lassen was a crafty guy and we were easy to pick out with our backpacks and he picked us right up and took us to his shop for, guess what????, more tea! Yes, I know, you are in complete shock and awe that more tea would be offered but alas, it was. We politely sipped the tea while they chatted to us about their camel trip (hmmm, trying to steal business from their mate...not sure that is so kosher) showed us many a carpet and sort of arranged for our taxi. We finally had to just get up and say "OK, we are going to get our taxi" and at that point, the mini bus we were reserved on (supposedly), magically appeared. It was quite long morning trying to get out of Zagora and on our way to M'Hamid, which was another 1 1/2 hours to the very end of the road at the edge of the desert. There is a sign somewhere in the city that gives the number of days it takes to reach Timbuktu by Camel but I didn't see it - belive it was supposed to be 56.

As we pulled up into the small, dusty town of M'Hamid, we were greeting by Mohktar, looking very much the same as he did in the Cascades, all dressed in his blue robe and black turban. He helped us get out bags and whisked us across a (dry) river to a the hotel of his cousin (they are all related somehow through something or someone). We were quite pleased with the place as it had a lovely room, hot shower and nice ambiance. After we were settled, Mohktar took us out for a stroll through town and to the edge of the desert to watch the sunset. It was one of the most amazing sunsets I have ever seen and was like walking through a Maxfield Parish painting. The sky was dusty pink and blue initially and changed quickly into deep pinks with grey edged coulds, the light shinning gold through their edges. It didn't hurt the image either to have Mohktar in his turban and robe standing looking out at the sunset with the vast desert in front of him. A lovely image.

When we returned to the hotel, we headed to the restaurant for dinner. Unfortunatley the dinner in the restaurant was not as nice as the rest of the hotel. We started with the harira (always seem to) and I really wished that I would have stopped there and eaten another bowl of it. After that we were served the ususal tajine, although this one seemed to be made of nothing but onions, prunes and lamb neck bone. I am sure all that know me well can imagine what I thought of the lamb meat neckbone thing that was in the center of our dish (you share the tajine plate). Basically I tried to ignore it and sopped up the sauce and onions around the pathetic, grisley, boney hunks of whatever in the middle of the table. Wyonetta was a little more adventurous and actually tried to cut some of the meat off. It was no use and she defaulted to dipping bread as well. Desert was "seasonal fruit". Translation of that is orange slices with a sprinking of cinnamon. The oranges here are damn good though so I didn't mind that at all and ate them down happily. I think that I have had more oranges in the past three and a half weeks than I have had in 10 years. They are just so delicious and juicy here I cannot seem to get enough.

Here is where our evening got a little bizzare and resulted in me sending a something panicky (I hope not too bad) email to my family with clear details on who I was traveling with and what hotel I was leaving from. As soon as we finished dinner, we were joined by one of the nice young waiter guys. Just wanted to chat and speak english with us, which he did not do very well. Shortly after that, Briham joined us (Mohktar's brother) and he informed us that he was going with us in the desert. Then Hassan, the hotel owner, showed up with a bottle of wine and started pouring that. Then Mohktar arrived. Then some other man, whose name I have forgotten, showed up along with one of the other waiters. Before we knew it, Wyonetta and I were sitting at the table with about five nomad men all drinking wine. The wine thing was more the issue than the number of men as Arab men are not good with alcohol and seem to get a little funny once they have had a glass or two. Wyonetta and I held our ground and stuck together at one side of the table and chatted away working out our escape back to our room. However, before we knew it, a little arguement seemed to errupt at our table. There was a lot of back and forth and some heated, raised voices and before we knew it, Hassan was asking us if we would like to go camp in the desert that night. This was a bit odd as we were scheduled to spend the next five nights in the desert so I could not possibly figure out why we would want to go out that night at 9:00 only to come back in and go out again the next morning. So I asked, "We are going to the desert tomorrow with Mohktar, are we not?" The answer was not clear.

More heated conversation took place and Mohktar sever times leaned over and suggested that we depart to discuss the itenerary of our trip. He was well looped after only a couple of glasses of wine, which made for even more concern on Wyonetta and my part as we weren't sure he was in any shape to discuss anything. Also, any time he tried to leave or talk to us, a big conversation errupted. Finally we just said that we were going to bed and that whatever needed to be discussed we could do tomorrow. The plan was to meet at 7:30 for an 8:00am departure. Mohktar gave one last attempt at coming with us to explain the schedule and was duely followed by Hassan and another huge conversation ensued outside our door. Turns out that Mohktar made the deal with me to go on the trip but was not sharing any of the spoils with his family members who all also had businesses of desert treks. They were all trying to get in on the action while Mohktar was trying to keep them out. The statement of "business is business not family" came out a couple of times.

We both went to bed a little confused and concerned that we would not be going anywhere at all or that we would be going somewhere but without any supplies that we needed and that we would end up lost in the desert. Clearly this did not happend but the desert trip story will have to wait, as now, it is time for some harira, couscous and a little seasonal fruit. MERHABA!

Pixs from Morocco...

2007-04-15T12:45:00.000-07:00

Mr. Camel and Miss Hahn enjoying Morocco...

more blabbering below in the other latest post.

MAGICAL MOROCCO, LAND OF SLIPPERS AND BATHROBES

2007-04-14T02:37:00.000-07:00

Wow, so can I start off with two things...I hate French keyboards and, I absolutely LOVE Morocco. Not to slight India or anything but Morocco is so much more a place for me and I just can't say enough about how much I have been enjoying it. I think that from the first moment I got off the plane, despite the complete chaos, I knew it was a place for me. Getting off of the plane I was hit with a warm blast of air and faced with the cleanest airport I have ever seen. The building was sparkling and decked out in beautiful tiles. It was a bit of a pain getting out as no one was directing people traffic and about three planes landed at the same time. We pretty much all filed into a big room and stood in what I can only call piles of people clustered about in front of what looked like customs counters. I really chose the wrong line and was pretty much the last person on my plane out of the customs area. Odd thing was, they did not ask me a single question at the counter, just looked at my passport, stamped it and let me go on my merry little way so I am really not sure what the hold up was.

After collecting my poor little lonely bag off the conveyor belt, I braved the ATM (big queue) then headed out to find the bus. This was a bit more confusing as apparently the taxis were on strike but no one was there to tell us that so the front of the airport was a bunch of people wandering around with their luggage, books and maps out, looking lost and asking each other how to get into town. No one really knew and the airport seemed to lack airport personnel so we pretty much just piled onto this one bus as it came through and hoped for the best. It was very bizarre and I felt a bit like I was in a strange dream land especially when I looked up and saw massive snow covered mountains looming above me that looked an awful lot like the Himalayas from a distance but with the desert surrounding it. It truly looked like a movie backdrop.

So, once on the bus, I headed into the Medina area in hopes of actually getting accomodation (i hadn't booked anything). On the plane a number of people had said how hard it had been for them to find accomodation so I was a bit worried that I would not be able to get a bed. I succeeded after a very circular conversation, which I am very used to at this point and getting quite adept at. It went something like this...

"Do you have a room?"

"How many persons?"

"Just one."

"No, we only have a room for two people."

"OK, how much is that?"

"120D."

"OK, that is fine." (at this point I just wanted to make sure I had a place to rest my head)

"But you are just one, we don't have a room for one."

"Yes, but that is OK, I will pay for two."

Then another guy showed up and said, "What do you need?" I replied, "A room." "How many persons?" Again, "Just one." Answer: "We don't have a room." So on it went until finally the first guy who said that he had the double said that it would be OK for me to have the double for the night. They really don't get the concept of paying customer right in front of you with cash in hand.

After I settled in and realized that there was no shower to be found (for my cheap rate, the bathroom was outside) and a toilet getting close to rivaling those of India. Oh well, not too bad and hell, I was in Morocco and had a bunch of things to go explore. This place really overwhelms the senses much like India but for me in a much more interesting way (again, not trying to slight India, just personal preference). In the main square area (Medina area) there are snake charmers, drummers, henna ladies, water pourers dressed up in costumes with colored tassles and loads of stands selling dried fruits and nuts or fresh squeezed orange juice (right into the glass). In the evening the place lights up with food stands galore serving everythign from escargo to hearty bean soup. The stands glimmer with all of their lights and smoke pours out of the grills as the clarinet type things from the snake charmers sound in the background meshing with drums and the clickity clack (sounds like a horse) of the metal merenges (like castanets - spelling is off on both of those...sorry!). It is a feast for the eyes and I just wanted to eat up everything in sight. I was good though and settled in to a nice tajine (see picture above for what that is) of chicken, lemon and olives in a location right on the side of the main square where I could watch the world go by. As it was a social little restaurant I ended up having a great conversation with a couple living in London but originally from New York. They were just taking a quick trip here for the Easter break.

My hotel turned out to be quite the chaotic little place with the refurbishing of the courtyard (late into the night and early in the morning) and the car park that my room butted up to. That said, the next day, I opted to move to a different place and take on the dorm room. Also a good place to meet fellow travellers and swap stories. I got quite lucky as I immediately met Jess and Abs, two American girls here for about 10 days. They were also needed to head to the bus station for tickets so I tagged along with them. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for me, the bus they wanted to take into the mountains was on strike or somethink like that, so they decided to also head to Essaouira, a beach town. We got tickets to head out for the next day, then parted ways for the afternoon as I was quite keen to sort out my ticket to Tunisia and also to hit a Hammam (turkish bath).

It was at this point that I got lost in the souk amongst the bathrobes and slippers (market area of twisty, narrow roads and loads and loads of shops glittering with all their wares). I should probably explain the bathrobes and slippers thing a bit more. Traditional dress here is the Jellaba (long robe that looks like a bathrobe with a pointy hood) and the babooshes (sp) (leather pointy slippers). Basically the image is of a Jedai Knight from Star Wars wearing his house slippers - often in yellow for some reason that I cannot explain. The women also wear them but they tend to be in colors (often pink for some reason) while the mens seem to be in more modest browns, beiges and cream. I must say that they do look awfully comfy and I often feel a bit overdressed in my khakis and T-shirt. Maybe I should take up wearing one of these robes...hmmm...not a bad idea...well, If I do get one, it'll probably never make it out of the house as I cannot imagine running out to the grocery store with my pointy hooded, tassled robe. Of course, if I do get one, it will have to be in some fun color so that would make it even more of a sight. Could always save it for Halloween and go as Princess Leah but that would mean I would have to get a conservative white one.

In any case, lost in the souk and feeling a bit under-dressed, I decided to do a little poking around in the shops. In retrospect, I am not sure this was such a good thing. The shopkeepers here are much worse here than in any other country I have visited. Not only do they pester you to visit their store but they grab your arm and basically drag you in. Then when you ask a price, which is always too high, and you say that it is too high, they start with the "How much you pay????? How much you pay???? If you then give them a price that is too low, they will, shake their head (usual) and sigh (also usual) and then counter. If you continue on this line, you just may get thrown out of the store - literally! I have met several people that were "escorted" out by their clothes and then yelled at as they tried to escape down the souk. If you refuse to give them a counter offer, they get equally pissy and chase you down with "What you want to pay?" and when you say, "Just looking." you get them yelling after you in nasty tones and spitting at you, "Just looking, I am just looking." then something in Arabic that I cannot understand. I think I escaped quite lightly only receiving the "Just looking" and spitting.

After all of this, I decided that it was time to head to the Hammam to relax and get clean (they scrub you and wash you as well as let you relax and enjoy the heat and steam of the baths). It was not quite what I had pictured, nor what I had experienced while in Turkey. This Hammam was much more traditional and very much so a local place. Negotiations at the desk were quite interesting as they didn't speak English and my French is fairly limited. We got by and came to the understanding that for 70D I got the loofah, was and massage. Having not been in side yet, I thought this was quite the deal if it was anything like the lovely place in Turkey. After paying, they gestured and explained that I should leave my bags and clothes with the little woman in the front of the Hammam.

First let me explain that I was standing in an entrance hallway (a big one) and at the end of the hall was a little wooden desk/divider and the woman was sitting on the floor behind that on a pile of blankets guarding various purses and bags. They explained, as much as they could, that I should remove my clothes and give them to the woman. Well, I was still standing in the hallway. Yes, apparently this was OK and I was to undress in the hallway then walk over and leave my stuff with the woman. Towel????? Could I have a towel please! That was pretty much what I was thinking. I realize that I have lost a lot of modesty after Africa and peeing on the side of the road in a line with six other girls while locals walked by but for some reason undressing in this hallway and then standing there in the buff while trying to figure out what to do next did not seem very comfortable. I managed to communicate that a towel would be good and they nodded and then told me to undress so I did. That resulted in me standing in the hallway naked and trying to duck a little bit behind a wall in the direction of the hammam. A local woman came in and, doing me the favor of helping me sort out the etiquet (sp) of the hamman actually managed to delay my entrance and have me standing there for another five minutes. Finally a towel came, as did the nice local woman and I was lead into the bath house and set amongst a bunch of other women unsure of what to do next.

Basically the drill here is that you sit and let your skin soften in the steam, a woman then comes and washes you with an olive soap, gell, blob, type thing and then she loofahs you and then you get a massage. Well the place in Turkey had a beautiful marble raised circle to relax on and the women sang and were gentle. Here it was quite different. Us poor women sat around a slightly dingy looking room on marble tiles (those who were lucky had mats) naked or half naked waiting for a boney cross eyed woman or a massive black african type woman to call us over for our scrubbing. First they handed me the soap thing and gestured that I should splash water over myself out of the bucket and wash myself, which I did. Then after a couple minutes, the massive woman called me over and had me lie down and then began to loofah me. I think I was actually punishing myself rather than rewarding myself and if there was any grime at all left from India (the bath water at my friends house turned grey when I took at bath on my stop over in London) it is all gone now. As she loofahed, I watched peels of grey/brown skin roll up into little balls and fall off onto the tiles. Is this sounding sanitary enough yet? In retrospect, I am thinking this sounds pretty darn disgusting. In any case, she loofahed me and I don't think there was any skin left when she was done. She then sent me over to the other lady to be washed with some scented soap and have a semi massage thing. Overall I am chalking it up to a very interesting experience and have noted that the next hammam I head to, will be a bit more up market and geared more toward the tourist looking for a steam bath/sauna and real massage. Think I will save this until after I get back from the desert. I itched for the rest of the evening however the next day my skin felt as smooth as a baby's bottom. It is still recovering though and in this dry weather my hands, elbows and knees are all falling apart and peeling. For a few days I was hoping that I hadn't picked up some nasty skin disease in the hammam but it seems to be subsiding so I think it'll be OK.

Next day it was off to Essaouira. We got nicely ripped off to begin with by paying 15D to the bag guy but he insisted and well, you never know if they will toss your bags off of the bus if you don't pay. We were a bit pissed off about it but decided that there was not much we could do and boarded the rickety old bus. The bus ride was well, not so comfy, but a step above the Indian buses as they did not pack people into the aisles. I almost got the bonus of the seat coming with me when I left as it wasn't bolted to the frame anymore. We had the usual hassle of everyone wanting to take us to their hotel when we exited at Essaouira but managed to shoo them off enough and make our way through the city walls and down the narrow passages. Our hotel was a bit off the main route so it took several stops and several "Can you tell us where..." and one reprimand before we found it. Note to self, say "Hello" and "How are you" before you ask for directions anywhere. We stopped in a nice wood shop to ask directions and before I knew it, I was being reprimanded for just asking directions and not passing some pleasantries first. I have since learned my lesson and always begin with the niceties before asking anything at all. This seems to work and the shop keepers are much friendlier.

We acquired a fantastic room on the very top of the hotel facing out onto the terrace with a straight shot of the ocean. The three of us immediately loved the place and were ready to stay the rest of our vacation there. Basically we had a good couple of days just wandering around the windy narrow streets and walking along the beach watching all of the windsurfers and kite surfers. The area is HUGE for windsurfing - Dar, you would love it! - and looked to be quite a kick. I debated staying for a few days and taking some lessons but there is so much to see here in Morocco, I am opting for doing something like that back home rather than in a country where I want to explore.

With much saddness we departed our rooftop abode to head to the mountains and Cascades D'Ouzoud. It was quite a long bus day to get there as we had to come back to Marrakesh then head out again to the mountains. Pretty much most of Easter Sunday was spent in transit. We stayed the night in a place called Azlil, not realizing that we could get great accomodation in Ouzoud right next to the water falls. When we reached the junction, a bunch of high schooly looking Brits got off the bus and the three of us wondered what we missed and why we weren't getting off there. We quickly grabbed our lonely planets and realized that alas, there was a little place right there that sounded quite nice. The bus had already headed off so we were stuck with our first choice and settled on Azlil for the night. It was pretty much a one horse town and as it was late when we got there, we wandered the streets trying to find a suitable place to eat. They were all packed with men and did not appear to be too welcoming of three females. Of course, a local boy decided he wanted to chat and joined us for the wander until we did settle on a place to eat. Bonus was that he was able to tell us which places were OK for us or not.

That night we met a Canadian couple also heading the same direction so we agreed to take a Grand Taxi to the falls the next day. At this juncture, I would like to note that there is nothing Grand about a Grand Taxi. Basically "grand" refers to the size of the car not the stature. A Petite Taxi is along the lines of a Volkswagon Rabbit while the Grand Taxi is an old beat of Mercedes four door. Clearly a car that seats six, despite the fact that only two seats grace the front of the vehicle. Don't mind the little padded lump in the middle by the stick shift that you just may get stuck sitting on. As we were five, we decided to rent the entire car to take us to our destination. It was definitely a good thing as the four in the back was a bit cozy and we all came out with various body parts aching.

Arrival was fantastic. The little town was adorable and sat perched above the falls. I guess you can't really say it was a town as it was a few hotels and restaurants and then a little strip of shops along a walkway down to the cascades. It is quite a climb down and all along the way restaurants and tea shops dot the hills. Quite pleasant. We scored again on the hotel and were ushered in to a three bed corner room, nice fresh sun dried sheets and a fresh breeze wafting through. They also wecomed us with a lovely cup of the mint tea, or Berber Whiskey, as the Berberse refer to it. It is quite sweet so after a couple of cups you feel a bit like your teeth are rotting out of your head. Not always pleasant but the stuff is delicious. If you ask for half sugar, then it is most enjoyable.

So, once settled in, we headed down to the falls and off on a six hour hike. It wasn't meant to be six hours but we got lost a couple of times and ended up climbing up out of the canyon and then back down to the river a few times. In the summer the place is packed with campers escaping the heat and swimming in the river. It was a lovely hike and at the end we were rewarded with the river spilling into another canyon. First though we had to sneak past the locals that had decided we needed to pay to cross the last sand bag bridge. We ignored then and Jess almost got her head taken off by a boy who was ready to throw a rock at us. Fortunately his little sister had more sense and stopped him. Day two was spent much the same way but Jess and Abs had met one of the shop keepers and he fed us a fantastic Tajine lunch (see pic above) and then took us out on a hike to the source of the river. We wandered through olive groves, stopped and ate fresh, not quite ready almonds and then hiked back through the farmers onion fields back to town where we enjoyed a cool evening outside with more Tanjines and Couscous dishes and the hotel boys playing the drums. It was a fantastic evening sitting around watching these guys play various drums and castanets. A few of them even managed to pull out their bright blue and orange turbans and get all wrapped up.

Day three was departure day for all of us...quite sad to see Abs and Jess head out as we were having a really great time lazing about, going on hikes and eating fantastic meals. The two of them were scheduled to leave a few hours before I was so I headed back to chat with Jalil, our favorite shop owner and also with the guys at the hotel. Well, turns out that I was convinced by all of them to stay one more night, which I am so glad that I did. I had another lovely lunch with Jalil (shop owner), spent much of the afternoon learning how to play the African drums, and then headed off for an evening hike, which finished along the river with cups of tea and more drumming. They had the big drums by the river and before you knew it, there was a group of 15 people sitting around the fire by the side of the river playing the drums and enjoying the onset of night. We headed up a bit before it got too dark to see. Jalil then invited me to dinner at his uncles house, where we had yet another Tajine (seeing a trend here???? thankfully they are tasty!) and watched a really really bad mel gibson movie. It was a pirated copy so maybe it wasn't actually the real movie but it was one that I would not even put on my rent list. After that, I headed back to the hotel to get some zzzzz's before my ride back down to Marrakesh.

I should mention here that over the course of the day, I had met a British couple with a car. They were quite lovely and offered to drive me back to Marakesh so that I didn't have to take the bus. It is here that I got a bit stuck...they had lent their car to one of the hotel guys and well, he failed to come back with it that night. In the morning it still was not parked in the parking area and we all started to get a bit concerned. Apparently the night before they called this guy, Saiyd, several times and he always said he was just heading back or almost there (oh, well, at one point he did admit to being 90km out). The story was that he needed to help his police officer friend get his uniform fixed. Well, that wasn't really the case and turns out that him and his police officer friend went off and got quite drunk. Saiyd did turn up but only early in the morning and when asked about the car, Adam (brit guy) got, "Oh, it is just over here". That went on for a while and "just over here" turned out to be a taxi ride away and a car off the side of the road and 1/2 way down a ravine. Apparently the car was about 10 m down and was stopped from dropping down the gorge by a tree. Saiyd still insisted that the car would be fine and coulde be "fixed". When Adam returned a couple hours later, he did not look so sure that the car could be fixed and when the rest of us saw it after it had been dragged and bounced out of the gorge, we agreed that fixing did not appear to be an option. It was a bit of a stressful day for us waiting around to see what happened and ultimatley the rental car company came out, took the car away and left the three of us to make our way back to Marrakesh. I must say that despite a few tears, and given that they were going to take the hit for it all, the British couple really was quite calm and handled it all really well. After that day, we opted for a Grand Taxi back down the hill rather than another night at the Cascades. Saiyd was still around as well and that did not provide for a pleasant atmosphere as he never really said he was sorry or seemed to feel any remorse and the hotel owner's son was in a right mood of being stressed and pissed off for what Saiyd had gotten the hotel wrapped into. Saiyd was more there to pick up tourists for desert trips than he was for working in the hotel and lucky for me that he did create the mess as I was half tempted to meet up with him when I did reach the desert. He probably would have left us tourists stranded lost in the middle of the dunes with no water.

Anyway, we all came out OK and made it back to Marrakesh. I had a nice dinner with the Brits (Adam and Heidi) their last night and have otherwise just been wandering around through the souks and checking out the many sights that Marrakesh has to offer. It is a wonderful city even if the drumming and bad claranet playing doesn't stop until 3 in the morning. I still feel like I could spend many more days here exploring all of the nooks and crannies of the city. Each time you turn a corner, there is something new to look at.

Tonight I am catching an overnight bus out to a city called Zagora where I will then catch a Grand Taxi to M'Hamid just on the edge of the desert. I have hooked up with a Kiwi girl and we are heading off to go on a five day desert trek. Should be fun...supposedly we get to see a dune field of 300m high dunes that stretches for 40+km.

That is about it from here...sorry for the lame bit of ending and not really saying much about Marrakesh but frankly, I am tired of typing and also deathly afraid that after all this, the computer will crap out on me. Not too worry (as if!), I'll be back on again in a week or so....

ONE LAST RUPEE....

2007-04-01T04:35:00.000-07:00

Wow, so here I am sitting in the airport waiting and waiting and waiting. As I suspected, despite the fact that I have 7 hours to kill before checking in for my flight, I will most likely not leave the airport - or at least go very far. I do have plans to have a bang up dinner at the Sheraton, which is just off the airport property so that doesn't really count. My desire to go back into downtown Mumbai, on Sunday and when the shops are closed as well as the museums, was very limited. I did attempt to head to a place called Juhu Beach just for a look and maybe a movie but when I got in the autorickshaw, they all of the sudden changed their price and wanted quite a bit of money, which I felt was better spent on my spectacular meal later this eve. So now I am just killing time until the restaurant opens for business...probably should clean myself up a bit while I am at it too or they may not let me in for the meal!

Now back to my saga. As you know, I was last in Darjeeling doing, well, basically nothing but hanging out. I did, however, just before I headed out, make it for a spectacular tea tasting. I finally found a store that would actually let me try the tea before I purchase it. At their prices, I pretty much felt that this should be part of the deal. Oh, did I mentiont that in Darjeeling, my first cup of tea was actually from a Tetley tea bag? How funny is that? Figured I'd get some good local stuff but alas, only the good ole Tetley. Where was I, hmmm, tea tasting...yes...the shop had around 20 types of tea, ranging from standard Lipton type tea all the way up to the real posh stuff that the Queen of England consumes. It was quite amazing the difference in taste depending on when it was picked (spring 1st or 2nd pick or autumn) and also the difference in estates. Actually it was quite a bit like doing a wine tasting of different producers and regions. The man was quite patient and actually let me taste around 8 different teas. He started with saying that I could only taste two or maybe three but guess I charmed him into by actually caring about the tea and showing that I really did want to buy something not just taste. He even gave me cups of the top three and boy was that top one scrumptious!

Fortified with loads of tea, I headed to the jeep stand to get my taxi/jeep down the hill. The down ride was a bit more, well, shall we say, trying, than the up version. The driver and his assistant (money taker) both looked like they were 15. My bag went on the roof but was not locked down - climbed up there myself to lock it on. Given the twists and turns in the road, I wasn't about to take chances with my stuff rolling off and down the cliff. It must have been the most phlegm infested, sick group of men in the back of jeep (I requested from seat squashed next to the assistant guy) as the noises coming from the back were none too pleasant. Lots of deep throat, nasal sucking snotting sounding grunts going on and loads of spitting out the window. I think there were even a few, hold one side of your nose and blow going on out the window. Very typical though. I guess I was blessed to be in the front and only have to listen to the two on either side of me chew and spit their paan - stuff they put in their mouths made from beetle nut and all sorts of other junk that turns their teeth red. A few times I was sure that it was going to splatter back into my face but I got lucky. After much twisting and winding down the hill (I even started to feel nauseous) and taking every detour and stop that we could, I arrived back in Siliguri where I took the Darjeeling Mail train to Calcutta (Kolkata). The rickshaw driver made sure to inform me how far he was taking me and how strenuous it was to get to the train station in the hopes of getting a little more money, which he did but cause I liked him and he was chatty and honest from the get go about price.

Yeah! The last train ride! Yippppeeee! It was actually quite pleasant but part of it was that I had decent people (no leering soldiers like when I headed to the Nepal border) in my six bunk section and that I was so tired from getting up at 3:30am that morning that I just wanted to crash - and managed to! I did have to pay an extra 150 rupee charge to get on the train though as it was completely sold out. They have a thing here called "emergency" or Tatkal that allows you to pay more and get off the wait list and guaranteed a spot. The big catch is that you have to pay for the entire train ride so if you are only going 1/2 or the way, it can make the trip quite expensive. Good thing was, I was going the entire way, which made it not such a bad deal given that I HAD to catch the train in order to make sure I caught my flight in the morning to Mumbai.

Early am arrival in Calcutta and actually, I found the city quite OK. I was dreading heading back into a big, crazy, noise infested, dirty city but it really was quite clean. Clean, that is, compared to Indian standards. It was an easy trip to the hostel and I got settled right in and headed off for a haircut. This is something I am really not sure I should do when I travel, especially after the haircut I got in Namibia where the woman took the front section of my hair, twisted it up above my head and then snipped at it randomly and let the bits fall down back to my head. A girl in the hostel seemed to have a decent haircut and she said she got it around the corner, so off I went. I was a bit curious about how the salon would be as the closest thing I had seen to a salon in India thus far was a barber shop. There are all sorts of little barber shop places and people set up on the street that will cut hair or shave you but they really aren't what I would be looking for, nor would they know what to do with women's hair.

So down the street I went until I came across a sign that said something about Ladies Parlour. It had white paper up on the windows to keep people from looking in and pictures of women's product taped on top of the paper. Slightly reassuring as I at least I was guaranteed that it was a salon. Inside were several Indian women clustered around something giggling and chatting. One came to me right away, asked what I wanted and before I knew it, had an apron draped around my neck and was leading me to the shampoo table. It actually was a table thing that was set on the edge of the sink. No comfortable neck rest here and in fact, she was none to gentle with the picking up and putting down of my head as she washed. Done with that, she sat me in a chair (regular chair, not hairdressing chair), divided my hair and pulled out a comb thing with a razor in the teeth. Before I could say much she had razored off about four inches from the length of my hair. I sort of figured she was going to shape the front first and also ask me how much length I wanted off but guess not. When she moved to the back, she only wanted to trim it a bit, which I though was a bit odd given that the front 1/3 of my head on each side was a good chunk shorter than the back. Not sure if she was going for the shoulder length look in front and mid-back length in the back but it wasn't working for me. Turned out that even though she only took a couple inches off of the back, she razored that as well (layers apparently), by the time she was done razoring, the length was almost as short as the front. Overall not a bad cut but I was sure worried what it would turn out like with that razor comb whizzing around my head hacking away. Nothing that won't grow and thankfully my hair grows fast.

After the cut, I decided to head out and face the big, bad city. I started off with the New Market, which was supposed to have some nice stuff. It did look, if you had the time, patience and inclination, like you could find some good stuff. The big problem was that shop keepers or markets workers (not sure how they worked but they had ID cards) would join you on your shopping and tell you how you should go to their shop or this shop or that shop. The continually asked, "What are you looking for miss?" "Sarees? I know a nice saree shop" "Spices? Would you like some spices?" One man persisted for about 20 minutes and no matter how many times I said, "Please go" and "I do not need help, I would like to be alone" he kept following. I finally stopped and very sternly said, "Look, please go away. You are making me want to leave the market area and not shop at all. Do you not understand that if you pester people like this, that they leave the market? It does not make them want to shop or look in any stores!" At that point he left and the store owner of the shop I was in front of, nodded approvingly. That done, I escaped the market empty handed and headed off to see the Howrah bridge and hopefully the flower market.

I never made it to the bridge - although I did see it. I ended up just walking around the town and through a park and mostly along a very busy street next to the train tracks that were blocking the view of the water. Too bad they didn't do a better job with the waterfront, it would have been very pleasant. It was a nice overview of Calcutta though. At some points I did feel a bit uncomfortable though as the men in Calcutta do seem to stare quite a bit and not just at your face. I did a bit of staring back as well and saying "Namaste!", which freaked them out and they turned away quite quickly. One man in the park, wearing the Indian skirt/wrap type pants) felt the need to treat me to a show of his entire toolbox if you know what I mean. I had just finished chatting with a couple Brits and getting directions and turned to go on my way when, oh, there it was walking right at me in all of its glory. I carried on my path, which was diagonal, and pretended that I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary and he wrapped himself back up. I not really sure what these guys get out of touching, staring at and showing private parts to foreigners but it can't be all that exciting.

After my wanders I headed back to the hostel for a bit of break then headed out to tea and dinner with an Aussie woman I met. It was her first trip ever and she chose India! Crazy! She was counting the days until she was leaving but at the same time, was enjoying the trip. That seems to be the way it is in India...so tiring and frustrating but equally fascinating. We sat on a street corner with our chai chatting away for an hour or so (8 rupees for the four cups! Cheapest I have had) and then wandered up to a street called Park Street, which was supposed to have an excellent little street stand restaurant serving a thing called Kati Roll. The Kati Roll was great. It is a parantha (chapati type thing but thicker) with egg, veg, chicken or mutton filling. They put all the goodies inside, roll them up and hand then to you - all for the cost of 17R, or just under $0.50. Quite tasty! I almost had two but was stuffed from the first one.

Of course, while we were eating, the ever present street urchin showed up and tugged on our sleeves and shoved her plate in our legs, arms and stomachs. It is a bit frustrating as, yes, I know that they are hungry, but they never bother the Indian people. It is only the tourists that they pester and poke and prod. I had pretty much had enough at this point as she stood there for about five minutes moaning and poking so, as rude as it was, I wadded up my greasy paper from the Kati Roll and put that on her plate. Boy did I get an angry look. She continued after us poking us with her plate as we walked off. I did feel a bit bad but really they should take care of their own a bit here and the fact that we were the only people she pestered really got me - oh, and that I have been listening to this for two months. India supposedly has the most millionaires in the world, recently surpassing China - they aught to donate a few rupees here and there to the suffering population. I do wonder sometimes if India has just made me heartless. The fact that I can walk by a two year old that is hungry and has her hand out for food and not even blink or care or feel any sort of pulling at my heart is terrible. Yet, I know that her mother and/or father has put her up to it and that if I give her money, she won't use it for food anyway. Half the time if you give them food, they run off and sell it back to the shop you just bought it from. I can't imagine if my little niece was hungry how I would do everything I could to feed her and I am so thankful that she does not have to know what it is like or to stand on a street corner holding out her hand.

Back to happier things...I think I have done and clearly from the above, am doing, India a disservice. I wonder how bad my blogs make this place sound. It really is a good place and very interesting. Many of the people are wonderful, friendly and kind and the places you can visit are spectacular. I do not think that I did a good job of describing the beautiful moments and places. India is such an overwhelming country on all sides - the noise and chaos, the people always around and with you (you are never alone) and the distances you must go to get places. I think I have barely scratched the surface of what I experienced and don't know how to put most of it in words. Sitting here now, I am very glad to be leaving India and can't wait to get on the plane. If you would have asked me a couple of days ago though, I would have told you I wanted to stay and go South. I do still want to go South at some point, so I will probably be back, but I also think that India is a country that must be taken in small doses and not all in one go. For now though, I am happy to be safe and sound in the quiet airport waiting for the plane.

To finish, as I am going to head off for a top notch meal in about 1/2 hour, I would like to end India on a food note. Just thought I would share a few of my favorite/interesting culinary experiences/visions:

The Cockroach Apple - My aunt and uncle would be proud...Ella squealed that there was a cockroach on her apple up in our room and out of curiosity, I had to go look (that would not have happened several years ago - I would have been the squealer). It was quite an impressive feat the cockroach had accomplished. It was about 2 inches long and it had chewed a hole in the apple big enough to stick its head in. It was almost cartoonish the way it was munching away putting its head in the hole and pulling it back out. I bagged the little sucker and brought him down for the manager and so Ella could have another look :)

The Cockroach and the Soy Sauce (seems to be a theme) - While dining in our favorite restaurant in Darjeeling - eating Momos - a cockroach decided to join us. First just on the table, then it went for the soy sauce but as it was covered, we just shooed it away. Thinking we managed to get rid of it, we carried on but next time I went for the soy sauce, I found little legs squirming around. What to do! I scooped him out and shook him off onto the floor and kept going...yes, I did still use the soy sauce BUT with a different spoon. He was a persistent little bugger though and reappeared climbing up the wall. Those things never die!

A Well Dusted Chicken - Last night a rickshaw driver passed by (walking one) with a passenger and about 6 chickens tied to the crossbar on his wheels. The chickens were well dead and tied by the feet, their beaks almost touching the ground. Guess they were getting a fine dirt dusting before heading off to someones plate.

Egg Plant Lasagna - or, Egg Plain Lasagna as the proprietor called it. On the menu it said Egg Plant Lasagna very clearly. What I got, however, was fettuccine type noodles with fried/scrambled egg strips tossed in with it. The sauce was good though. When we asked about it, the owner said, "Yes, Egg Plain Lasagna, what is wrong?" I think he knew exactly what was wrong but it was funny enough (and still tasty) that we didn't complain. The Danish guy ended up with salad on top of his Lasagna (Fettuccine) noodles!

BACK IN (AND ALMOST OUT OF) THE LAND OF BOBBLE HEADS

2007-03-28T07:21:00.001-07:00

Ahhh (or really AGH!), I am back in India again, land of the bobble heads. That is not to say that the Nepali people don't bobble their heads as well but not nearly as much as the Indians. Come to think of it, what exactly does all this bobbling of the head really mean? After 5 weeks in India, I still have absolutely no clue! It seems the options in response to a question are:

Lots of bobbling with no words
Lots of bobbling with a grunt or a sigh
Bobbling with an eye close then continuing to bobble
A half head nod to one side (this is most confusing as it is often in response to a question about directions and can be confused for the giving of a direction that you should be walking). I really think this means I don't give a $#&%.
Bobbling with the words "ah, cha, cha, cha". If you get this one, which I never have, you have hit the nail on the head and know you are right on track. I only know of one person that claims to have received this response.

In any case, it was with a HUGE amount of mixed feelings that I decided to catch a bus back to India and into Darjeeling rather than heading up to Kathmandu with Ella and then catching the flight to Mumbai from there. Part of the swaying factor was the $300 that I would have spent to get back to Mumbai (Bombay) and the other part was the fact that, well, really, I did come to India to see India and I had just spent 3 weeks in Nepal - almost half of my trip.

So, on that note, I decided to hop on the bus from Chitwan National Park - my last place in Nepal - and head for the hills of Darjeeling. Supposedly I was going to be traveling on one of the luxury buses (a step up from the tourist buses in Nepal, which are really just crap old buses that run the major tourist routes). Hmmm, lets see, luxury is not quite what I would describe it. After arriving at the stop at 6:00am for the bus and waiting for an hour for it to show up, I was really hoping that it might offer a bit of comfyness. Hee,Hee, HAH! The bus trundled on up, they threw my luggage on top, I prayed they strapped it down as they ushered me on board and stuck me right up next to the front and pointed out the front windscreen and said, "Hah! TV, Yes? You see!" Not sure this is exactly what I wanted. I did want to sit at the front of the bus as it is less bumpy and painful but I really didn't need to see what we were about to hit on a regular basis, and believe me, we were about to hit A LOT of things on the 11+ hour journey.

That brings me to attempting to define a luxury bus...to you or me, luxury bus might be defined as:

Big, clean seats that recline a bit and have arm rests

Air conditioning with tinted windows

Bathroom at the back in case of emergency

Bus built after 1995 with some comfort about it

People all sitting in their respective seats with luggage stowed below the bus, not in the aisles (people and luggage that is, not just luggage)

So what do you get with a luxury bus here in India or in Nepal? You get:

Seats that don't recline or recline so far your head is in the person's lap behind you

An engine that threatens to die every time the bus driver stops to pick up a new passenger, which is frequent and for the most part, not at a bus stop but along the road where they are flagged down by people wanting to go places

Minimum of 20 people in the aisle standing or sitting or really, leaning on you

Possible child in your lap or person next to you in your lap or spitting whatever it is that they chew here over you out the window or into the aisle and hopefully not on the people in the aisle

No toilet, but a couple of stops along the way with the possibility of a shack with a hole dug in the middle for a toilet or a hay stack to crouch behind

A bus built in hmmm, 1940? OK, maybe lets say at least 1950 and if you are lucky, 1960.

Stickers of random American pop stars and Indian Bollywood stars plastered on the front window and if you are lucky, above each seat to help denote where you sit...maybe they should just say, "miss, you are in Brittany Spears Pepsi Commercial pic"

A driver with a horn that won't quit - sometimes held down for a span of 30+ seconds. This is particularly nice when you are at the front.

Oh, again, if you are really lucky, you might get a man next to you that feels the need to attempt to rub his legs against yours or his arms across your chest. Yes, I did get lucky enough to have this happen. Started with excessive staring - he was facing me (should have picked my nose or something). Then he moved into the seat next to me. First attempt was rubbing my ankle with his nasty dirty foot, which resulted in a quick stomp - me hoping it was on his toe. His next approach was with the arm. Started with pushing up against me more and more and then an attempt at sliding his entire elbow across my chest. As you can guess, this resulted in a quick arm up and push from my side. Had he kept it up, he might not have had any family jewels to start a family with.

Overall the bus ride was fairly uneventful and mostly just uncomfortable. The most frustrating thing was getting rid of my Nepali money at the border as all of the money changers appeared to be out of money or just not bothered to help as they all had their windows up and were sitting at there as if waiting for someone to come along and change money. Very frustrating. In the end, the immigration officer changed my money into Indian rupees and I carried on my way across a very long bridge - thankfully my pack is not too heavy and after the long bus ride and frustrations of trying to change money, I needed a good walk to clear my head.

It was quite clear that I was back in India. As soon as I tried to take a bus, I had five different people grabbing me an telling me their bus was better or faster or cleaner or cheaper. Really they all looked the same and they were all the same price and well, all took about the same amount of time. I think a shop keeper took pity on me as he stopped me, asked where I wanted to go and helped usher me on to a bus and very clearly said "Pay 15 rupees...no more, 15 rupees!". I was hoping to head all of the way to Darjeeling after crossing the border but it was already 7:00 at night and another 3 - 3 1/2 hours in a bus did not sound too fun. So, I opted to stop in Siliguri - or sort of was forced to stop as I have no idea if the jeeps were even going to Darjeeling that late. Found a pricey hotel as there were no other options but did get a TV and room service! Boy this sounds posh eh? Really it was still a drab, white walled, slightly dingy room with a tiny little 10 inch TV and the room service was only because they did not have a restaurant area. Still, it was nice to relax and see a little bit of what is going on in the world.

Next day I was up and out for my 2 1/2 hour roller coaster ride up the hill to Darjeeling. The road is absolutely crazy. This was one time that I wished the driver would use his horn a little more often. We came flying around blind corners on a road that was meant for one way traffic, barely missing flying off the mountain. All along the route were signs about living and not driving too fast. Two of my favorites are: "Donate Blood, Just Not On This Road" and "Go Slowly on Earth, Not Quickly to Eternity". There was one other about if you were married drive slow or something but I didn't catch all of it. Hell, I just wanted the guy to stop trying to pass every car and truck while four others were coming at us. Made it safely though and have been spending my last few days here in Darjeeling drinking tea, hanging out with other travelers and wandering around the small, quiet city.

When it is clear you can see the Himalayas and it is quite amazing. The city itself drapes along the mountainside and where it stops, turns into tea plantations that continue all the way into the valley. It is quite beautiful.l As you can imagine, I am consuming my fair share of tea. It has been very pleasant wandering around the tea plantations, stopping in at the zoo to see red pandas, tigers (that I didn't see in the wild) and snow leopards as well as going to the Himalayan Hiking Institute to see the history of climbing Everest. Oh, did I mention that I am at the base (well not really base but within seeing distance) of the third highest mountain in the world? It is called Kanchanjunga and is 8,834m high - the second highest being K2 and highest being Everest. Supposedly on a clear day you can see Everest from here but it has not been that clear.

This morning we gave it a try with an early morning sunset (left at 4:00am) but no such luck. Got a nice sunset and a quick glimpse of the mountains before the fog rolled in but that was about it - oh, other than the 300 other people up there who, when the sun just started to come out, all went "ahhhh, oooohhh, ahhhh"(it wasn't even that spectacular of a sunset). and the vendors shouting "coffee, coffee" "postcards". Where the tea was, I never discovered, which is quite funny for India since they drink so much tea and also a little odd since we are in a major tea producing region. Back down from the sunset now and just passing some time before I get my jeep back down the hill to the train station. Looks like another hair raising ride before I hit my very last overnight train in India. Cannot believe that I have only two days left here. Have to get my mind ready for the noise and chaos of Calcutta and Mumbai (sigh).

Oh, I have a new favorite word - Pagael - it means crazy or mad. We started calling Ella "Ella Bola" on the hiking trip, which means "Crazy Ella" as she was always giggling. When we got to Chitwan, we told the Guest House manager and he taught us Pagael. Of course, that resulted in me calling Ella "Miss Pagael". It is a fun sounding word anyway...

ELEPHANT DRIVER EXTRAORDINAIRE!

2007-03-28T07:21:00.000-07:00

When I last left I was in Pokhara soaking up my last few days of good food and resting a bit from the trekking and well, otherwise just being lazy. Ella and I hopped on a tourist bus earl in the morning to Royal Chitwan National Park in the hopes of seeing the rare Indian One Horned Rhino and, of course, a tiger. The bus ride was OK, not too much horn, we didn't go over a cliff into the river and we actually had an entire back row of seats for three people. Basically the ride was uneventful until about an hour before we arrived when the touts started getting on board.

The touts never make for a pleasant ride as they always start with "hello! where are you from?" and you know for sure the next thing is going to be a brochure stuck in your face and them telling you how great the hotel is and that you should stay there and that it is cheap and the rooms big and there is hot water etc. etc. etc. None of it is ever true, OK, rarely true. They were particularly bad this time and particularly early. Usually they get on one stop before the end or even wait until you get off the bus. Not this time, we had a joyful hour of them nattering in our ears despite the fact that we said "no thank you" over and over. In this case, they all kept starting with "so sorry to bother you but...." or "miss, I know you do not like to be bothered but..." Ella finally lost it and almost shouted at them, "Look, if you don't want to bother us, or you are sorry, then shut up and go away and don't bother us!" The result was peace for about 10 minutes and then more apologies and brochures. Getting out of the bus was even worse and at one point, I was surrounded by around 20 guys waving brochures, shoving cards in my face and grabbing my arms and hands and trying to carry my pack off without me. Ella got lucky and escaped out of the mess and managed to actually find the place we wanted to go. For some dumb reason we didn't go there first but went to another place with a French guy who promised his place was fantastic. The deal was, that they drive us to that place, if we didn't like it, we got to move to the other place. So much for that, we didn't like it but it became a big mess to get them to move us to the other place. In the end they did, but they did it with much grumbling and a bit of a wait.
The place we settled into was just grand! Big beds with mosquito nets, right on the river across from the national park and with very friendly people. Although I am sure they still took us for a bit of a ride and still kept a bit of the truth back (don't really want to say they lied about stuff, but hell, yes, they did). In any case, we booked for an all inclusive deal and got all food, room, elephant safari, canoe ride on the river, jeep safari and walking safari – oh, and all the tea we could drink. I don't think they quite counted on getting a 'real' tea drinker like myself but lets just say they started bringing Ella and me big pots of tea rather than the small ones as we kept having to ask for refills.

Unfortunately the great Siberian Tiger remained hidden from us during our various trips into the park and jungle but we did get to see about 8 of the One Horned Indian Rhino. They were quite spectacular and looked like they were covered with plates of armor. Very different looking from the African rhino. On our walking safari we came across three of them in the tall grass and had to walk past them in an open area. This was a bit freaky as they have been known to attack on a fairly regular basis and if they do, you are supposed to climb a tree. We looked around before crossing the open area and well, there were NO trees anywhere. That meant, if they did decide to charge that we needed to run in a zig zag pattern and throw an object (clothing or backpack) off and to the side so that they would stop to sniff it. Neither a very fun option. I definitely prefer the tree option. So, before heading out, our guides debated if we should actually cross (it was a male, female and baby). They decided yes and about mid way across the open field, the biggest (of course) perked up his ears and looked at us intently. They can't see very well so god knows what he actually thought he was looking at but I wish he thought we were elephants. At this point, the lead guide waved a bit more frantically and said “come, come, quick, quick” and we picked up the pace. Then the nice little rhino looked a bit more serious, ears flapped forward and he even took a step toward us out of the brush. The lead guide started to run, Ella and I started to run and the guide behind us started to run. I think it became serious when the guide following us overtook both Ella and I and was about five paces ahead of us. Clearly I am still alive, as is Ella in case you were wondering. Personally, I think they may have been doing it to add a little drama to the walking safari. They stopped a number of times on the walk and said things like “I smell a crocodile” or “I smell a tiger”. I don't really think you can smell them but one of the times when he smelled a crocodile, there actually was one on the banks of the river. We did see a number of tiger prints and also some scratching on a tree but that was about it. Hell, I am not going to take the chance though and if they say “run”, I'll run!

The jeep safari was nice. Couple of rhinos but mostly birds and LOADS of Chinese tourists, which were something to see in themselves. They were all covered up with their towels over their heads and their gloves and their cameras. We all had a laugh at them and prayed that we didn't come across them while out on our safari as they would scare everything away, which they did as one point we were up in a tower watching a rhino and sure enough, here came three truck loads of Chinese and off went the rhino.

I think our last day was probably the most fun as it was the day we played with the elephants. In the morning we went for a bath with them in the river and that was an absolute blast. As Ella would say, “that was soooo WICKED!” Basically you hop on the elephants back and head out into the river with them. The elephant trainer/driver gives commands and the elephant fills up his trunk with water and sprays it back all over you. We had a particularly playful elephant and driver and they took us into the deeper part where we played the game of “lets see if these silly people can stay on top of me while I shake about and then sit down in the river”. The elephant clearly won but we had a grand time climbing back up on her and then getting tossed about and back into the river. The elephant and driver were having such a grand time tossing us in that we finally had to stop and ask to be finished with our elephant back. After we fed the sweet little elephant bananas. Their trunks are so funny, they reach right out and sniff you, slobber on you and then scoop the banana right out of your hand.

After the bath, we headed off for an elephant safari. Not the most comfortable sitting arrangement – four people in a box/stand type thing on the back of the elephant but really a fantastic way to see the jungle. Also not the driest of things as the elephant kept blowing spit and dust up at as. Good thing I saved the shower until the evening. We had two rhinos straight off and you can get really close to them as they don't mind the elephant. Again we had a really sweet elephant and she kept making this purring sound that you could feel go through her body. I can't remember her name but the translation was Happy Girl and I guess she really was. The purring means that they are happy. Of course, it didn't hurt that her friend was up ahead and as she got closer she purred more. At one point we even stopped for them to have a conversation and they were both purring and tossing their trunks about and blowing dust and trumpeting. It was really sweet but also VERY loud. We spent about two hours crashing our way through the jungle. getting whacked by trees and bushes, and plowing through small rivers and it really was quite a joy. At the end of it all, the driver turned around and asked if I wanted to drive the elephant. Now who could turn down such an offer? I jumped on that and think I have found my new profession! It was much more comfy up there and a lot less snot/spit came up my direction although I really don't think I was doing much. The driver walked along side the entire time and occasionally grunted something. Still, it was fun to do and the locals faces looking at a westerner driving the elephant were enough to make us laugh.

Otherwise, Chitwan was a very mellow pleasant place and we spent our time wandering around, hanging with a Danish guy we met in Pokhara and sitting in lounge chairs along the river drinking tea and cocktails and watching the sun set. A very agreeable place I must say! Too bad I had a 6:00am local bus out....but that is another story.

Mountain Pixs

2007-03-20T23:33:00.000-07:00

Yeah! Finally got these pixs uploaded...slow interenet is a real pain in the...Anyway, this is just an idea of what it looked like out there but really nothing can describe how incredibly spectacular it really was. If you read my last post (from yesterday- see below/last update), I attempted to describe it but think I did a real crap job as I was tired and on a super, super slow connection . This one is a little better but 3x the price - although in town and it is raining today so a good thing not to have to walk out of town to cheaper internet.

Anyway, really enjoying just relaxing in Pohkara and the mountain life up here. It is so different from India and the craziness there - and so much quieter. The food is also fantastic - not to say that the Indian food was not good but I can only eat so many palak panners (curd and spinach currey) and Aloo mutter panner (potato something). I do miss the nan bread but the Momos (potstickers) and Thupka (fat noodle soup) are quite tasty and doing a good job of filling my belly. It also doesn't hurt that there are about five million German bakeries in town with yummy pies and chocolate treats. Good for the tummy after 10 days of trekking.

Anyway enjoying it. Met a real freak the other day - go figure eh? When will I stop attracting these people? Or maybe it is India and Nepal that attracts them, which I actually think is a big part of the case. Lots of whakos running around this part of the world. So, Ella and I were happily enjoying our meal when up comes this guy, walks by, says "hello". Rule #1, never make eye contact with anyone who looks like they might have freak tendencies. Both Ella and I made contact. Then came, "Well, may I join you?" and really, how do you say "no" when you aren't sure the person has lost their marbles yet? So we said "OK" and down he sat. The conversation that ensued is one that I still have not grasp completely. It ranged from the tsunami really being started from India blowing up underwater nuclear bombs off the coast of the Andaman Islands to drinking your urine first thing in the morning (remember, mid to end stream only) to keep you healthy and help ward off diseases. Oh, lets not forget that all babies are swimming around in urine in their mothers wombs, just another reason to continue drinking it - ah, and well, the vaccination thing for kids....bad, bad idea. This is really what creates sick and autistic children. Basically only us strong and lucky ones survive from this hideous vaccine thing. After having received this glories information (and much, much more) we were told (as we escaped out the door), that he hoped that the information he had imparted would better allow us to be the angels that we were. Guess "his connections on earth" as he referred to them had a bunch of info to download onto the world. Needless to say, it was an odd evening.

That said, can I tell you again how great the trek was? I wish I could show or describe or even impart a little of how spectacular it is out there. Sad thing is that in a few years, a road will connect everything and there will be no need to walk it...guess people will have to branch further out.

Oh, and one other thing before I head off into the blue again for a few days...you remember the blanket wearers I mentioned in Lesotho (Africa days), well, it isn't such a bad idea after all. I have even taken to wearing one and boy, in the mountains, was it a blessing. Highly recommend that Vogue take this fashion statment up for next year's season!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-03-20T04:30:00.000-07:00

So, well, there you have it…the trek was WOW! I cannot believe how amazing it was. The views were incredible and like nothing I have ever seen before. Then again, what do you expect from the Himalayas – nothing less than spectacular! It was one of the absolute best things that I have done on this trip.

Quick recap: Arrived in Pohkara after a really long 24 hour journey of rickshaws, trains, buses, walking and more buses and got sick. This had pluses and minuses – plus that I was in Nepal with a comfy bed and a fairly quiet place to get some rest, minus that I was sick and here I was in what seemed to me, at the time, the culinary delight capital of the world. The menus were expansive and had all sorts of goodies from pepper steak to lasagna and even fresh salads. Things I have not seen on a menu for AGES! Here I was only able to eat soups or, actually only wanting soups. I did managed to get out of the guest house at least once a day to run down to the hotels where Tom and Ella were staying, a couple of people who I had met via email while trying to find a good place to stay in Pohkara (I am flying guideless/bookless at the moment). In any case, I managed to find some people for Tom wanting to do the Annapurna Circuit (a 18-21 day trek) and stole Ella from him to do the shorter Jomson/Muktinath trek (about ½ of the Annapurna Circuit). Once I was feeling half well, which was really not all that well as my stomach cramps did not abate until day 3 of the trek after talking some antibiotics that I brought with me for things like this, we headed off for our 10 day march.

As I cannot possibly explain everything we saw and how I felt along the journey, I will try to do a quick recap:

Day #1
Taxi to a village called Naya Pul. Hop out of car and head off and up, up, up, up. Our porter (Ella and I were a bit lazy and hired someone to carry our bag) said that we did around 11km that day and it really was all up. We wound through all sorts of little villages stacked up the mountainside with gardens terraced all around until they reached the edge of the cliff where the mountain dropped steeply to the river far, far below. The scenery was amazing and as we reached the top, we got a peak at some of the raggedy, snow-capped mountaintops. Stomach – ugh, pain! Ended the day at a nice little mountainside Guest House in Ghandruk with views out over the houses, fields and mountains. So nice!

Day #2
Up early and off after a bowl of steaming porridge with apple and a hot cup of tea to tackle the mountain. No big hills today just rolling along through more villages with more and more spectacular views of the mountain range as we climbed little by little along the cobbled path. Stomach still in ouch mode and tempted to take the cypro immediately but hold off. Arrive late afternoon to a very cute family run Guest House in Tadapani (means Far Away Water) with a stunning view of the mountains and some evening snow. Ella went wild with excitement for the snow. Lukewarm shower – as you do get up in the mountains with no electricity or gas heat.
Day #3
Up super early to see the sun rise on the mountains. Spectacular! Another yummy breakfast of porridge with apple and tea (oh, there are loads of apples in the mountains here for some reason). Big down followed by steep up with tea at the top looking over the mountains and sighing with relief at our accomplishment. This was before Krishna (guide) informed us that we were to head back down, then WAY back up again to 3,120m when we reached Ghorapani. Like walking through the Chronicles of Narnia all day – just waiting for Aslan to pop out of the trees and lead us along the path. Basically we were walking along a beautiful creek with loads of trees around, green with flowers at the low points and snow covered paths as we climbed higher up. Just gorgeous. Arrived early afternoon and after a boiling hot shower (oh so nice!) settled into the common area with mugs of hot chocolate and our feet resting happily next to the oil drum fire place. More views of mountains with a lovely sunset and expectations of a sunrise climb back up to 3,120m (we had come down a fair bit) to see the view of the entire mountain range from Poon Hill. Stomach still ouch and time for cypro.

Day #4
Up at 5:15am to find cloudy skies and no need to hike up to Poon Hill for sunrise. Happy to be back and cozy in my sleeping bag but also sad to miss out on one of the most spectacular views in the Himalayas. Big down day today – 2,000m down to a village called Tatopani (Hot Water) where there is a hot spring by the river that cuts through the mountains. As usual, but not to be taken for granted, spectacular views. Loads of cute little villages along the way and well, our first day of rain. Drizzle set in quite early and stopped, appropriately, just as we did for lunch. Ate basically at someone’s house with fresh veggies picked right out of the garden – walked straight out there once we had ordered to get what she needed. Amazing veggie noodle soup and just what the doctor ordered for the stomach. Thunder and lighting just as we are heading back out (of course). Misty drizzle and rain the rest of the day but with the HUGE reward of the hot springs at the end of the day. Lovely soak and time for my first Dal Bhat and rice. Even gave it a go with my hands…not overly impressed but hey, they keep brining more and more food so perfect after a long day of trekking.

Woke to a surround sound thunderstorm and buckets of rain that kept up all night. Nice to listen to as you are tucked up in the sleeping bag but a little mousy in my head kept saying, “Hey, you, yes, you do have to walk in this all day tomorrow!”

Day #5
Rain in the am, turning to drizzle early afternoon then low and behold, sun, just in time for our lunch break right next to a massive waterfall. Yummy lunch of fresh picked and cooked (on demand) pumpkin soup and a corn bread type thing that they fry in a skillet. Aghhhh…so nice to have the warmth. After lunch we carried on along the river and then up, up, up (again) to a town called Ghansa. Tucked ourselves under/into the blanket covered, fire filled (they put coals under the table) table and tried to warm up, drinking hot chocolate and rum while waiting (not too patiently) for our dinner. Seems to be that your order and the food shows up about two hours later. This gets a bit tough when you have been walking for 5-6 hours, are tired, cold and starving.
The area we walked through is called Kali Gondaki Valley and it is the world’s deepest valley tucked between the mountains Annapurna I and Dhaulagiri. Both mountains are over 8,000m high and only 38km apart. Again, stunning to look up at them and see their snow flecked tops with clouds stringing across like cotton candy sticking to a tree branch.

Day #6
Rain, rain and more rain followed by snow, hail, sleet, wind, thunder, wind and more rain. If there was a weather pattern, we were getting it, well except for loads of sun. Amazing walk though – surrounded by the mountains in what seemed to be a desert or riverbed in a valley but was really at the top of the mountains. Cold and wet we arrived for lunch in Larjung. By that point, wet and tired. After some fortification, we debated our about an hour (see, I am not the only one who can’t make a decision) if we should continue on to the next town about an hour away. As the wind seemed to have died down, we voted to carry on. Well, the wind had not died down and it pushed us right along and off our feet as we scrambled across the riverbed valley to reach Tukche. Thunder started just as we arrived and thankfully, the place was nice and cozy and had a blazing fire in the corner of the room. Bucket hot water showers are NOT nice in cold drafty bathrooms. Neither is wet laundry dried on a dust and soot crusted fireplace. Hell, I was somewhat clean and the apple brandy they served was mighty tasty! Finished the night off with apple crumble and then it was off to bed, bundled tightly in the sleeping bag and blankets (you need both) to ward off the freezing room.

Day #7
Sun, glorious sun! We woke in Tukche to clear skies, brilliant mountain views that we couldn’t see the day before and they were amazing. Carried on that day to Jomson, where many people finish their trek and fly on back to Pohkara. However, we were not to be faint hearted and pressed on to the little village of Kagbeni where we found a very warm welcome from a nice Tibetan lady who ran the Shangri-La Guest House. At that, we decided to settle in for a two-night stay and rest our weary bones.

Day #8
So much for resting – on our day off, we decided to climb a 4,000m mountain going up 1,200m from our base of 2,800m. It was absolute pain with straight up switchbacks and slushy, snowy places. However, the views at the top were well worth it and we just about skipped down the hill (well, not really) to reach the bottom where I grabbed a warm piece of apple strudel. Not quite the flaky crust I was hoping for but tasty nevertheless. Big dinner and early to bed after warming our sore legs under the table and having HUGE meals of just about everything we could get our hands on.

Day #9
The final climb – Kagbeni to Muktinath (pilgrimage site at 3,760m).
No easy task after the previous days climb and that fact that we were walking through clay mud and snow melt. Rivers were running down our path and we slipped all over trying not to find ourselves wallowing in mud and donkey crap like a pig or falling into the creek that ran along the path (Ella did). Quite the hard climb up due to conditions but again, rewarded with stunning views. We even mustered the energy to walk the remaining 200m up to the shrines and ghompas, a major pilgrimage site for Buddhists and Hindus. Of course, while there, we had to douse ourselves with water from the 108 taps to wash away our sins and bring good luck. Talk about brain freeze! That night we reveled in our accomplishment, drank more rum and hot cocoas and playing rousing games of Nepali Rummy while watching the sun set on the mountains. A lovely way to end the day and rest our weary bones.

Day #10
Back down the mountain with creaking knees and, fortunately a path that had not yet defrosted. Made it down to the Hil-Ton Mountain Inn for lunch and a break before the path really turned to mush and carried us right down our assess. From there it was a three-hour, painfully slow (Ella had a bad heel/shoe) trek back to Jomson for our flight early the next morning. Arrived in good spirits and had the obligatory celebratory beer and popcorn, which went straight to our heads. Stumbled back to our Guest House, the waiter’s laughter ringing in our ears as we wobbled off on our way. Finally! A real hot shower! Then dinner…two hours after we ordered it – patience please! Devoured it right quick and carried on with the rousing rummy game before all passing out from fatigue.

Day #11
Back to Pohkara! It took a bit of time as the weather was not quite right and our little 18-seater plane was not about to take off with the wind in the wrong direction. After five hours of waiting we finally got the call, and boy did we get it – everyone was on the plane and buckled, and ready to go in less than 10 minutes - pretty impressive. Then again, there hadn’t been a flight out for three days so we were all counting ourselves pretty lucky to be getting back via plane and not via our feet or various combinations of motorcycles, feet, jeeps, feet, more feet and buses, which a few people did opt for.

Now just hanging out in Pohkara finally enjoying the culinary delights of the city, relaxing with fellow hikers and just enjoying the peace and calm. Looks like we (Ella and I) will head to Chitwan National Park next but we are still sorting all that out and well, I am still sorting out how the hell I am going to get back to Mumbai for my flight in two weeks! Don’t think I am really looking forward to heading back into India but that will pass as soon as I cross the boarder, I am sure.

Sorry that I could not be more interesting on the hike and do a better job of explaining what all we saw but well, brain really isn’t yet completely out of the clouds! I just have to say it again - WOW!!!!!

SILENCE.....

2007-03-08T06:11:00.000-08:00

Wow, so Nepal = Silence...so nice...not too much to report here right now as I spent the last part of Holi in Varanasi heading to the train station and then waiting and waiting and waiting and well, you get the idea. The train finally left around 1:30am. It was an overnight train so we arrived about 8:30am and then had to catch a bus to the boarder. Basically my next 13 hours were spent on buses or between buses winding their was up through the mountains (an occasionally almost falling off). There was a good group of people on the bus so four of us banded together and decided to fight the hordes at the end as one group to get a better hotel rate. While this meant all four of us plus driver plus one other guy - never figured out really what he was there for - and four huge backpacks all squishing into a tiny little ford fiesta type car, it meant much less hassle for Rachel and I as we let the two boys take over and handle the negotiations. Hell, they don't really want to negotiate with women anyway so that helps too.

Unfortunatley the cold bus ride with no blanket and only my thin fleece was the last straw on my body and the past three days I have been sick and spending vast parts of my day in the hotel room. The bonus, though, is that Nepal is CLEAN and QUIET! The beds in the hotel and soft and big, not like the hard ones in India AND we have our own bathroom WITH hot water. I ask you, what more could a girl ask?

On top of it all, and despite being half locked up, I have still managed to find a few people that also wanted to head out on a 10 day trek through the Himalayas. So tomorrow, despite a few stomach rumbles still going on, we are escaping to the peace and quiet of the Himalayas. I cannot wait. Will have much more to tell when I get back. For now, happy to be in the mountains and away from all the rubbish and people in India.

BACK ON TRACK

2007-03-04T07:52:00.000-08:00

Well, if you read my last blog, you might be feeling a bit sorry for my pathetic little self crying in my mango lassi, but alas, all righted itself as it always does and I have spent two fantastic days in Varanasi. I am sad to leave but also at the same time glad that I am leaving it with a bit of sorrow in my heart to leave. That means I have not overstayed my welcome and will always remember it as a magical place where I met some incredible people. Yesterday I spent wandering the streets with a Canadian guy I met at a food stall and just talking about places all over the world. Most of the day was spent at the Ghats, the waterside steps where people wash themselves, their clothes and basically cleans themselves. It is considered a very holy river. In fact, when people die, they wrap their bodies and bring them to a special ghat where they are put on a pyre and burned before their ashes are thrown into the river for re-birth. You can go watch it and it is really an incredible place. Holi, a festival day, started that night and boy did the festivities begin. Of course, it is a male geared festival and all women had to hide themselves or risk being attacked by the drunken men in the streets. It is a color celebration and starting in the afternoon, people begin to throw colored water at each other. As the night wears on, they drink and drink and dance and celebrate their one day when the gods look away. We watched all the men dance and bump and grind against each other until they told us it was best for us (safer) to head back to our hostels. I really did look like something out of the Castro it was all males and there was more bumping and griding and faux sex on the ground than I have ever seen. I didn't get to find out what happened later that night as I was locked safe and sound in the hostel until after noon today. By the time we got out, much of the town had returned to daily activities (but shops were closed) and it was almost as if it had never happened (but for the mess in the streets). A few men ventured out of the hostel and they came back covered in paint with torn clothes. Probably best I wasn't let out.

Today I spent with one of the most beautiful women I have ever met (an Indian/Canadian here to find her roots). She had an incredible, wise soul and we wandered and talked and I cried for my mother and missing her and felt a bit silly but safe and right and good and we talked about life and love and the heart and truth to oneself. It is very much a spiritual place here and if there is one thing that comes more and more to mind for me is how important connections with people are. It is not as if I didn't know this or don't know this but it is really what life comes down to. I see all of these poor people - in Africa and here in India - and they have nothing and yet they still smile and laugh and are together and have that community and family and connection with people that is so disappearing with our high tech society. Anyway, enough of this...here are some general thoughts/impressions of India:

A sunset CAN be like going to a movie! When in Mt Abu, we went to Sunset Point to watch the sunset and on the way up, one could buy popcorn, peanuts and soft drinks. Hundreds of people packed in at the top, many on bench seats set up for the purpose. As the sun dipped down, these hundreds of people clapped and cheered as if it was the closing act at the theater.

The McDonalds Chicken McMaharaja is a tasty treat but still as greasy as the burgers back home. Hot fudge sundays are always the way to go - oh, and the bathrooms can never be beat as they actually have toilet paper.

The world is my garbage can - well at least the Indians think it is. I cringed as I was asked to throw my trash out the train window rather than tuck it under the seat for clean-up later. Guess the train never really gets a good clean-up.

India really does smell like a sewer in most places. Unfortunately, it is a smell I am getting used to.

Rickshaw driver will always try to take you where they want to go and not where you want to go. They will do anything to convince you your choice is wrong from telling you the bus has already left to your hostel has burnt down.

The old women that grab you on the street and as for money are exactly like the old lady in Princess Bride that shouts BOOOO, BOOOO when her husband claims Wesley didn't say "True Love" when asked why he should live.

People selling you things will grab and pull on your arm, tap your leg or foot and follow you for blocks on end whether you acknowledge them or not. I will be quite good at ignoring things when I get home I think.

Prophetic cows really do exist. They even get all dolled up and sometimes have a fifth leg - extra bonus when attempting to collect money for the cow owner. Come to think of it, a number of people I have seen also have extra body parts.

Minimum five cups of Masala Chai are required per day. Not just for its yummy taste but also to keep the chin up and sustain you when things get tough.

Cows, pigs, monkeys, buffalo and humans CAN all live happily together in the city.

The Taj Mahal really is as beautiful as you think it would and is bloody expensive to boot! It was 750 rupees or $16 to get in just to see it.

2 Rupees is the standard up charge for any item being sold to a foreigner. Water, which clearly has the price of 10 rupees market on it, often gets the price of 12 rupees for foreigners. If you drink 10 bottles, you could have bought another two if you paid the extra two rupees each time. Us wiser travelers know this and just hand them a 10.

The sandwiches that I was so tired of in Africa would be good about now to break up the curry and nan bread.

A constantly running nose is pretty much the norm for us travellers as the spice in the food tends to get to you...After a meal, I feel like I was five again running around with my snotty nose - where is my Uncle Dar's pant leg when I need it eh?

Cows can and will sneeze on you and it is not pleasant. I watched a British guy get sneezed on and well, a big green glob landed on his foot and it was NOT nice looking.

Lying to foreigners is the rule, not the exception. I have learned not to trust what anyone says and find that everyone has a different answer - even the tourist information center. You pretty much just have to go with what seems to make the most sense and keep your fingers crossed. I had five different answers for a train departure one time.

No, they don't want to really help you, they just want you to buy a shawl or scarf or something else from their shop.

Mom really was right, porridge is not a bad breakfast after all. I think since I have been here, banana honey porridge and a glass of chai has become my favorite breakfast.

And with that, I will bid you all a good night (it is almost 10pm here) as I must wander off to catch my train to Nepal.

FOUND, UZBEKISTANI ARCHAELOGIST THAT SPEAKS 40 LANGUAGES

2007-03-02T20:14:00.000-08:00

So, they say that you either hate India or love India. That statement really does qualify and right now, I am falling into the category of really really hating this place and counting the moments until I can escape to Nepal. I can out of a couple of frustrating days, followed by a 12+ hour car ride only to be dumped on a hard platform bed with about ½ inch thick mattress on the front porch of a temple as my bed for the night. The hostel informed me they had plenty of room and when I arrive at around midnight, they showed me the most expensive room. Out of principal and the fact that I had just paid 600 rupees to get to Varanasi I declined and took the temple porch bed. It seems at this point that I am counting pennies but alas, 600 rupees (about $15) can pay for my accommodation for three to four nights so having just blown it on transportation, I was in no mood to pay 300 for a mediocre room.

Maybe I ought to back up a bit and get back to where I left off. Spent a couple of days in Jaipur, which was an OK city and had some decent sights then took another hell bus ride – trains are so much better than buses here! – to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. Despite all the people’s negative comments about Agra, Paul and I managed to have quite a good time there and both really enjoyed it.

The first night was spent attending a local festival/fair, similar to our state fair. We were the only foreigners there and had a great time walking around looking at things, eating cotton candy and NOT getting bugged by anyone as they were all there to enjoy themselves as well. We capped the night off watching the fashion show they had for the evening. It was amazing – some of the sarees they brought out and also some of the Indian style clothes with a western bent were so beautiful and colorful. I think we spent over an hour there. My favorite bit was that the show was brought to us by a sewing machine company and they had three machines proudly displayed on the side of the stage. I just can’t imagine Singer or Bernina sponsoring a fashion show in the US but hey, maybe I am running in the wrong circles.

Over the course of the next two days, we saw the Agra Fort (most of which is closed off), a dead/abandoned city called Fatehpur Sikri (absolutely amazing) and the Taj. The Taj really is as beautiful as you expect it to be.

So, this is also where my frustration with India really begins – Fatehpur Sikri. This amazing place and you can barely moved without a kid asking for money or a ‘student’ wanting to practice his English and then sell you something or guide you around the place. This is where I became the archaeologist…I was so fed up that I very sternly told the man, after he informed me that I would not understand anything without a guide that I was an archaeologist and that I had been studying Indian history all my life and I knew EXACTLY what I was looking at. It did shut him up and get him to go away but I still had to fend off begging children and trinket salesmen. Funny thing is, little is known about Fatehpur Sikri so the guides appeared to be imparting really useful knowledge such as, this shelf/ledge was build for the Sultan to sleep on as he did not like scorpions. Hmmmm, little fishy to me!
After three days in Agra, oh and the best mixed fruit lassi ever – like a desert with a sweet yogurt and layers of fruit topped with a sprinking of coconut, cashews and chocolate powder – Paul headed back to the US and I headed on to Khajuraho.

Again, another hell bus ride to get there. I tell you, again, take the train when you can. Arrived around 9:30pm to several hotel men trying to pull me into a million pieces and bring me to their hotel. I did get dragged one direction but after, went to check out my first choice place and made a move. It was very pleasant and I had my own room with my own bathroom and I felt like a queen. Well, not quite like a queen but a step up from always sharing and walking down the hall. The reason for Khajuraho is the Khama Sutra temples.

I woke up the first morning, and absolutely loved India as I wandered around on my rented bike (30 rupees for the day) to get to some of the temples further out. By the time the day was ending, I absolutely hated India. I couldn’t look at a single temple in silence as there was always a guy trying to guide me or a child grabbing and poking at me trying to get a rupee or two. Despite my several pleads to just leave me alone, that I wanted to look at it in silence and that I did not need a guide, nor have an rupees to give, they just would not go away. Hence, I decided to create multiple personas and see what they would do with that. Basically it just confused them and not much more. They still didn’t go away.

In any case, the temples are lovely and highly recommended but getting a train ticket out before you arrive is also recommended. I had the slight problem of all the trains being booked. Finally I was able to wait list for one but at an upgraded status, which meant paying 3x the price I would pay if I went general class. Of course, the minute I book the ticket, a man in a shop, who for once, I think was really out to help me and not rip me off, found a driver and a car to take me to Varanasi for 150 rupees more. While this is quite a bit and I really did not want to upgrade, my body was telling me that it was just about on the verge of getting sick (my stomach hadn’t been too good that morning). Given that, I opted out of the overnight train ride with a 4:30am arrival and took the car. Looking back, I am not sure if that was really a better plan as I arrived at around 11:30 after over 12 hours in a car with horrible Indian music blasted in my ear. I believe, that unless it is rap, all Indian music is based on the same two guys – one playing a tambourine type thing and the other playing some instrument that sounds like a drop of water would sound in a base tone like a bwlooop. It has a special beat that does the bwloop, bum, bum, bwlooop, bum, bum and meanwhile the tambourine goes ch, cha, cha, ch behind and the women and mean moan above it all.

When I finally did reach the hostel, as I mentioned above, I got a hard bed on the porch steps of their temple and the manager asking me why I arrived so late. Well, if I had a choice, I would not have arrived so late you dult! Unlike many others, I am not finding the charm and grace in Varanasi and think I will look into booking a train to Nepal for tomorrow night. It does have a lovely setting along the Ganges River, which is so polluted it contains 1.5 million faecal coliform bacteria per 100ml of water while safe bathing water contains less than 500. People are actually bathing in the stuff…something I will NOT be doing.

So, having bitched away for a bit, I am going to head out and face the world and see how many more beggars I can swat away.

DAMSEL IN DISTRESS ESCAPES AUSTRIAN BARON

2007-02-22T02:42:00.000-08:00

OK, so he wasn't a baron and the damsel in distress is really me, not some princess in a castle...however, I did escape the clutches of an Austrian so thought the title a bit fitting. As you may have already read, I was traveling with an Austrian gentleman (or not so much of a gentleman) for the first part of my trip. A few days in, it became quite clear that his intentions were not exactly the same as my intentions. Seems that I still have that ole freak magnet charm...sigh...So, after a few days in Udaipur, I decided to subtly - or not so subtly - stage my escape. I simply booked an early morning bus to Mt. Abu and failed to pass the message on to the clingy, freaky Austrian boy. As luck would have it, once he found out my bus time and tried to book the same, there were no more seats. Thus, happy little me sighed with relief and thought that my little hint would be enough and he would continue on somewhere else. Well apparently the not so subtle hint was not taken and gee, gosh, there was a 3:00 bus up to Mt. Abu so he would, after all, be joining me later in the day (the escape part comes later)

The bus was just about as close to hell as you could get - from the 1950s with open windows, a road that was being worked on, too many people and luggage in the aisles. The company was fun though (two Austrian girls, a Dutch guy and another American) so we sucked it up and bounced along joking, coughing and otherwise trying to make ourselves somewhat comfortable. When we arrived our faces were a couple shades darker and our clothes tinged with light brown. It took about 10 washings to get the water only slightly brown and well, that is liveable here. Mt Abu was a very pleasant mountain retreat and actually an Indian holiday place, not a tourist place. It was fun to see that rather than all of the other white tourists. Although, I think I have made it in Bollywood as at every corner someone wants to take my pitcure with them...funny, I think I should start asking them for money since they ask me whenever I want to take a picture of them. Think I could travel my way through India that way - or at least cover half of my expenses. The hostel was really pleasant and it had a nice group of other travelers. We did a hike about the mountains and down to Delwara temple, probaly the most intricate temple I will see along the way. The marble carvers were apparently paid for the amount of dust they created and thus every edge of the temple has some sort of carving - even the ceilings were so intricately carved they should have been on a wall. Unfortunately, we could not bring in our cameras so I don't have any pictures to show for it.

A couple of days there, and then I made my escape. Paul, the other American, was heading to a place called Pushkar. Not originally on my list but lots of people said it was nice so I opted to skip Jodhpur and Jaisalmer and head straight to Pushkar with Paul. Snuck away early one morning before breakfast, booked the ticket, and, ahhh, free and clear! This time for real as the Austrian wanted to head to Jaisalmer. The bus ride down was not much better than the bus ride up. While we were shown a lovely picture of a semi-sleeper coach with somewhat comfy looing chairs, we were actually given another 1950's bus with metal seats (there was a little cushion) and absolutely no leg room or anywhere. At one point during the 10+ hour ride I found myself with my head in the crack of the seat and my legs curled up against me with my feet pushing on the back of the chair in front of me. Not really sure how I got here, but apparently it was more comfotable than the previous position. At about 4:30am we stopped a rest stop with blairing Indian music. Basically this is a Chai stop. Everyone gets out, gets a Chai, stands around for a bit and tries to wake up in the hazy morning (mostly dust haze) then boards the bus for the remaining 1/2 hour. As you can imagine, the bathrooms are just lovely in these places and this is really when I wish I was back in Africa and could just run off to a bush.

AFter being dropped the middle of nowhere at about 5:30am, Paul and I tried, without much energy, to fend off the many rickshaw drivers wanting to take us the rest of the way into Pushkar for 600 rupees. It really does sound tempting at that hour given that we still had to figure out how to get o the local bus and then on to Pushkar. A couple of Spanish girls, who had arrived about 10 minutes earlier, saved the day and helped to negotiate the rickshaw down to 100 to the bus stop. From there, we again fended off more rickshaw drivers who swore the bus did not go from where we were standing or did not go at all until 8:00 am (it was 6:00am). The bus did go (all rickshaw drivers are liars) and we jumped on that. Our next feat was to find a hotel, which we did manage after checking with about 8 others. It was a big of a tough morning but he city was small so we didn't have to drag our things too terribly far. The most annoying thing was the hotel owners from hotels that we did not want to stay in following us around and trying to drag us back to their place.

Once the bags were dropped, we headed off to a breakfast to watch the sun continue to rise over the city. It is a lovely (small) city with a little lake. All of the people were down at the ghats (waterside places to wash) washing and starting their day. It is amazing the riot of colors along the clear water edge (yes, it was actually a clear lake) as all of the India people bath. Their sarees are so incredibly gorgeous, especially in the early morning light agains the white steps of the ghats. Other than that, Pushkar, while supposedly a holy place, was mostly full of touristy shops, tourists and loads of hippies. People seemed to get stuck there for weeks at a time and I am really not sure how as three days was quite enough for me. Guess it might be the Bhang Lassies that everyone is drinking. Bhang Lassies are the Lassies (yogurt drinks, often fruit) made with hash. I would, however, recommended the many falafel stands on the side of the road and the nan wrap that they were making. Food was good and it was pretty quiet (could even hear crickets at night) so we stayed a few days before heading on to face big, bad Jaipur - the pink city, which is where I am currently.

I think I have learned a few things in the past couple of weeks, the most important of which is that bus rides are much worse than the train, especially when they are night buses. Oh, and again, the sleep sheet is the best thing ever!

Next up: Taj Mahal

Some shots outside a temple in Udaipur

2007-02-14T20:33:00.000-08:00

BEEEEEEP, BEEEP, HONK, ONE RUPEE PLEASE, MISS, BEEEEEP..WHERE YOU FROM?

2007-02-13T07:59:00.000-08:00

OK, so where shall I begin? I have been in India for a week and it is absolute madness! After standing in line for an entire day in London, getting to the visa person via a system much like a deli counter with 200 people in front of you, and then waiting five days (and $110 later) I walked away with the shiny new full page stamp in my passport. As soon as I had the thing in my hot little hands, I booked a flight to Mumbai (Bombay) as that was the cheapest place to fly into.

Flights were OK, more or less empty, which was a bonus given that I was schedule to arrive at 10:30 at night, which is never a good thing as you become the perfect target for the touts on the street and the taxis that want to take you to their 'special' place. My first impression of India - "Wow, the airport is much nicer than I expected" and, "hmmm, it smells an awful lot like cow manure..." The cow manure was apparently from the many potted plants sitting around baggage claim, clearly to help spruce up the otherwise institutional feel of the place. At least they were trying. From there to my hotel - the Salvation Army Red Shield Hostel (never thought I would stay in one of those) - it was pretty smooth going. The ATM outside didn't quite work the first couple of times for me, but the nice guard helped to work it out and very politely turned away while I put in my pin. From there, I got a pre-paid Taxi to my hotel, which was much easier than any book made it sound. Paid about 40 ir too much but was too tired to care at that point and really it is just under a dollar. Felt pretty good that it was all that I was taken for.

Ride to the hotel was, well, hectic. The drive kept talking to me, which meant that he was turned around facing me and not the road. How we missed the autorickshaws (little three wheeled covered motorbikes), other cars, taxis, cows, moped, motorcycles and people, I do not know. He decided that wasn't working and still wanted to talk to me, so insisted that I move up front. He didn't just want me to move up front, but wanted me to crawl over the seats to the front while the car was still careening down the unmarked lanes of chaos. I insisted that I could not climb over (really that would be un-lady-like and as you all know, I am a perfect lady). So, he solved the problem by pulling over. I wasn't all that chuffed by this but went ahead and got in the front. This resulted in a series of questions ranging from , 'are you married?' to 'how much does a driver make in the US? Can I come be your driver?'

I clearly arrived safely at the hostel as I am still alive and once there, was told that they had no beds (I had a reservation). After a bit of persistence, I discovered that not only did they have the room I booked (and my name on the register) but they had dorm beds available (about 1/4 of the price) that they said were all gone. Goes to show that keeping at it, does help sometimes. So, for about $3.40 I got myself a nice upper bunk. At this point I must thank my father for the use of his sleep sheet cause, well, thus far, I have used it just about every night in India. It is a much required item and I would give up any number of things to make sure I had one of those with me (except my toilet paper, but that is another topic). I felt a bit like I was back in Africa again with all of the confusion.

So, what has the past week really been like? here you go...

HONK, HONK, BEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP, "Miss, money please", BEEEEEEEEEEP, "Where are you from? What do you think of my country?", Chooo, chooo, chooo, MOOOOOOOO, BEEEEEEEP, HONK, "excuse me?"

In the past week, I almost been run over by several cars, taxis and autorickshaws, gored by a cow (he was simply itching and I was in the way), crammed into a small upper bunk on several trains and booked as an extra in a Bollywood soap opera. Budding star you might say? Well, we will see.

I spent only two nights in Bombay as it was a bit crowded and really, not much to see there. Day one was spent wandering around with a Danish guy and two Austrians. It was nice to have the support of three males around me on my first day as it really did keep everyone else clear of me. The streets were not nearly as crowded as I had anticipated but boy, the noise was deafening. I had a headache from the the moment I woke up. It just doesn't seem to stop and really there is absolutely no where to escape. Day two, was spent getting up quite early to go see a fish market - this was one of the crazy Austrian guy's ideas. We picked out way around the many people sleeping on the street (no mat mind you) and the rats scurrying about to get down to the water by 5:00.

As you can guess, 5:00am and fish is not really the best combination for me. I thought the smells on the streets in general were bad, well, the sewer, manure and rotting food smells with fish guts and you really do have quite a festival going on in your nose - not a good one as you can imagine. I didn't last too long, not due to the fish but due to the fact that I felt like I was going to fall into a pile of them I was so tired. It was nice though seeing the city as it started to wake up and to only have 1/4 of the honking horns going . By the time we headed back to the hostel, the people were getting up, and now they were washing themselves with run-off water coming down the sides of the street. Entire families were outside dousing themselves in preparation for the day.

Back at the hostel, I was trying to re-group and get my head screwed on when one of the proprietors popped his head into the sitting are and asked if I would like to spend my day being an extra in a Bollywood movie/show. Hmmm, what a temping offer - lunch and 500 rupees! Yeah, I'd be rich! Just to give you an idea, 500 rupees is just over $11 so I guess my salary has hit a new all time low or just gone back to the days of mowing laws and weeding gardens. In any case, I decided to take up the offer and check out what the film industry was like in India. After getting dragged off to another town via taxi, local train and rickshaw, we were dropped at a fairly grotty building. We were handed some night club like clothes, for me, this meant a very very short black skirt and a tight black tank top with a purple V neck - not my most glamorous of moments. To top it all off, when it came time for us to "perform", we had to pretend to dance to no music or to the Indian music, which is a challenge in itself. I am sure I looked wonderful. Had to rush out quick quick from the show as had a train to catch...the first one...

So, first train went OK, but I am glad that one of the Austrian guys decided to tag along with me. It was nice to have a male along to help keep down the stares of all the other people on the bus. Took a top bed based on recommendations by others, and that was REALLY a smart move as people can't stare as much and you are above the conversations and the people in the aisles selling everything from the most noisy of kids toys to chains to lock your bags to the bed frames. It was a long night needless to say but the reward at the other end was great. Spent three days in the Aurangabad area to see the "poor man's Taj Mahal" (a smaller copy) and to go to the Ellora and Ajanta Caves. The Caves were amazing and no words can quite describe them. The largest one is 2x the area of the Parthenon in Athens and 1 1/2 times as high. VERY impressive. There are around 34 caves in Ellora and 29 in Ajanta. All hand cut. After that, and taking several buses to get to the various places, I headed up to Jalgon to catch train #2 on to Ahmedabab, where I would change trains and head to Udaipur.

So, 10 1/2 hours later, I arrived in Ahmedabad to the worst traffic jammed, smoggy mess I have ever seen - worse than LA on a good day. So much noise and people and carts and cows and crap (literally) in the streets that I was damn near just heading back to the train station to hibernate. That was really what I wanted but hunger took the best of me and I forged ahead. Note to self, AVOID Ahmedabad at all costs! Three hours later, boarded another train (overnight this time) to Udaipur. It was another 10 hours but since I was half sleeping most of the time it was not too bad.

Udaipur is fantastic...really a very lovely place. It is small, well, in the walled part, and is quite hilly - similar to some of the Greek towns but nowhere as nice - lined with shops and junk that you can buy, which you inevitably do. There is a lake in the center and most restaurants/hostels have rooftops where you can sit, relax and take in the water and the two summer palaces in the center. It really is pleasant and a quiet little retreat for a few days. Have spent the past three days just wandering about, poking in shops, taking a boat trip out to one of the palaces, walking around the main palace and going on a four hour bike ride around the main lake and a smaller lake. Tonight I feel like my legs are going to fall off. The ride was fantastic but the bike, well, it could have used a little update. I think it must have been from the 1920s and all original and not in such good working order. It did its job though and got me through dirt roads, rocks, small channels of water running across the dirt roads, around cars, rickshaws, cows and people and I am still in one piece to tell the story. Don't think I will be doing that again tomorrow.

In any case, I will head off on the morning bus tomorrow to Mt. Abu. I am looking forward to the mountain town and hoping that I might find a little quiet. The hostel I will stay at runs some treks in the evening and morning so hopefully there will be some good hiking.

Alas, that is it for tonight...now it is dinner time and then off to for a good night's sleep.

Another plane...

2007-02-05T19:45:00.000-08:00

Well so much for grand plans on a bit update. It is about 3:45am here in London and I am heading to the airport. After a couple of weeks here enjoying being in one place with a proper towel and a bedroom of my own, I am off again....After much patience and finally a visa, I am going to step out of Africa for a couple of months and head to India.

So now, I am off to catch the flight to Mumbai and from there, probably up north but we will see what it looks like once I am on the ground.

The Last of South Africa

2007-02-01T06:48:00.000-08:00

Wow, so here we are again. I swore to myself that I would get the South Africa piece finished as soon as my feet were on the ground and I had a computer to use whenever I fancied but alas, that was not the case and today marks a week from the day I left Cape Town. What a shock going from 33º C to snow. Thank god for Sus who showed up at the airport with a big down jacket and a fuzzy scarf in her hands. I was barely out of the arrival gate when she thrust them in my hands and said “You might need these, hon!” Up until then I was just thankful that I had a wool hat, socks, gloves and a scarf packed in my back pack. I am still not sure how they actually made it on the plane back with me and not dumped in a donation pile but I guess somewhere in my little head my brain was screaming, “Keep them, keep them! You are going to London after all”.

Now back to South Africa, which seems so far in my mind these days. We were just about to climb Sentinel Peak in the Northern Drakensberg, I believe. Having acquired our near useless sunscreen we headed off down a dirt road that wound its way around the edges of the mountains and up, up, up to the car park. After signing in – apparently the fog/mist gets quite bad and people often get lost – we were allowed to head through the gates and on our way to the top where we would hopefully see Tugela Falls, the highest falls in Africa, at over 3000 feet (second highest in the world). Sorry if I am repeating myself, I can’t remember what I have already written. The path started out quite easy and in fact, was paved, and then it sort of dropped off and we edged along the mountain up some switchbacks and over a few boulder strewn sections. Along the way we had a huge cobra cross our path. A South Africa walking by swore that cobras couldn’t live this high but after showing the pictures to the guards at the car park, it was confirmed that, in fact, we did see a cobra. It was actually quite beautiful and when puffed, had a bright yellow head/neck with some orange tinges to it. Fortunately he/she was not too bothered by us and slithered across the path and down into some bushes and rocks below rather than stopping and doing the full stand, which would have been quite spectacular.

At the end of the main path, we were presented with a metal ladder that went up a sheer cliff about five stories to a plateau where the falls should be. It actually was not that bad as long as you didn’t look down and realize what you were climbing up. Once on top, there was not a whole lot initially apparent. We could see back to Mont Aux Sources, the source of three major rivers and supposedly the Orange River, which goes all the way to the Atlantic (however, someone told me that this had been proven otherwise). Ahead was, well, open grasslands with a smallish stream/creek running across it. Being the adventurous ones, we decided to follow the river along to the other side. We figured there had to be a waterfall more spectacular than the one next to the chain ladder. And guess what? We were correct in assuming the Tugela falls was on the other side, however we couldn’t see it. Mist and fog was swirling up from the base so thick that all we could see was that the mountain came to an end and we could only hear the falls, not see them. That said, it was still spectacular watching the mist swirl about and clear slightly, giving a small glimmer of hope, only to close again and come rushing in as if to capture and engulf us. We did get a touch of clearing on the way down and were able to see back across the area called The Amphitheatre and realize how high up we actually were. The view was spectacular with bright green patches amidst the dark grey rock and sparking white mist. Best view I have ever had while taking a pee break (OK, you didn’t need to know that now did you?)

We returned to the hostel to a massive thunderstorm, lightening every few seconds followed by thunder and buckets (really) of rain pelting us as we ran across the lawn. It was spectacular to watch. Wayne unfortunately had to head to the airport to go back to reality but I curled up with my latest book, next to an open door, and enjoyed the storm from the dry interior of the building. I wish there was some way to capture it all on film (OK, you can on video but not snapshots). After the storm passed, the evening was clear and fresh, sparkling with the droplets of water still clinging to buildings, chairs, trees and the grass.

Having decided to give the Baz Bus a try – hmmm, should probably back up and explain what the Baz Bus is. Well, some brilliant person came up with the idea of creating a special bus just for backpackers. It goes from Cape Town to Jo’berg and one can either cut through the Drakensberg Range or go up further and through Swaziland. The bus stops at most of the better hostels along the route and if it doesn’t stop there, connects with shuttles to the hostels. The idea is that it is a safe and easy way to travel around South Africa and you never really have to schlep your bags very far as you are almost always dropped on the doorstep of the hostel. That said, you are often stuck to their time schedule and if the bus is full, you have to wait a day or two. On some of the routes, the bus only runs three times a week so you better be pretty happy with the hostel you are at if you have to wait. Reviews from people on it were mixed but in my case, it was the cheapest and easiest way to get from The Amphitheatre to Southern Drakensberg and the Sani Lodge. After giving the Baz a bit of a try, I am not so sure that it was the best way to go as they weren’t that great with info but then again, the mess (OK delay relay) was partly the hostels fault. I also could have made the trip on public transport with little additional money and bought myself an extra day in the Northern Drakensberg

So I wake up happy and excited to go on my next little jaunt. It is a Sunday morning, the sun is shinning and The Amphitheatre mountain range is unbelievably clear and spectacular before me. My morning was spent lounging, journaling and waiting for the Baz Bus, which showed up on time (for once apparently) at around 1:30. When I boarded the bus, I asked if I needed to call to arrange my transport to the Sani Lodge at the other end (Sani Lodge was a bit in the mountains but I really had no idea how far). I was told that no, I should call when I arrive. That bit of info was fine as the hostel had also given me a phone number to call when I arrived and said to call as soon as I got there to arrange transport. So, happy little me goes the two hour journey to Pietermaritzburg thinking that all will be well and when I arrive. I’ll call and wait a bit and then catch the next bus. Well, about ½ hour out from the stop, the girl next to me informs me that Sani Pass is a 2 hour drive from where the Baz Bus drops off. Well, at this point there isn’t much I can do so when we arrive at the drop point, I again as the Baz Bus driver where I need to go to catch the shuttle. He then tells me that gee, it is Sunday and well, the last shuttle would have already gone and that the public mini taxis (my other alternative) don’t have taxis that late on a Sunday and I should just ask the guy running the hostel. Funny, I thought it was Sunday two hours ago as well, hmmm, maybe not! Why he didn’t say that it was Sunday earlier and that I should plan on staying in Pietermaritzburg, I do not know. Or why the hostel, when I told them how and when I was arriving in Pietermaritzburg, didn’t say, Oh, gee, it is Sunday, you must wait until Monday, I am also not sure. Seems to be very typical in Africa, only providing half information and then when you speak with them later, they say “oh, yes, of course, that is right”, as if it was quite odd that you didn’t know in the first place.

In any case, the hostel manager was quite nice and helped me sort things out but it did mean that I had to stay the night there and get up bloody early the next day to get on a local taxi. So, early the next morning a Dutch girl (also in the same boat) and I got up early to head to the local taxi stand where we were smashed into a little white mini van. Since we were so early (well really on time but the bus won’t leave until it is COMPLETELY full) so we ended up sitting there for about an hour until the van was as packed as possible with four people per row and loads of luggage piled on top of our laps. Murielle (Dutch Girl) and I were lucky in that being so early we were able to stash our bags below our seats before anyone else could. It was quite a long drive and, as is always the case in local transport, the gentlemen between Murielle and I (we both took window seats) had quite a fragrance about them – not of roses in case you were wondering. The man next to Murielle kept stretching his arms out across the back seat wafting his odour across the entire row while the man next to me was quite happily dozing on my shoulder as I tried to get my head out of the window in hopes of fresh air.

Two hours later and with limbs that no longer wanted to function, we were unceremoniously dropped at the town of Underberg. From there we were supposed to call the hostel and have them pick us up. Well, we did call and alas, they had no driver for the day. Again, why they didn’t tell us this the day before when we both called (separately and at different times I might add), we will never know. They told us to take local transport. We trudged along back the way we came to the local transport stand and had a right difficult time of finding the taxi we needed. We finally broke down and ask a woman who turned out to be a Canadian aid worker. She helped us find the taxi but then told us it was completely full and that we would have to wait until who knows when to pick up the next taxi. It could have been hours. I think our crestfallen looks made her take pity on us and she offered to drive us to the lodge. She did, though, comment a number of times about how she shouldn’t do it as this wasn’t actually her car but an aid car but well, she offered so I guess we can’t feel too bad.

Finally I arrived at Sani Lodge (yeah!) it was incredibly beautiful there and very very different from the Northern Drakensberg which was massive mountains jutting out of the flat valley. Here the mountains rolled up and up and up until they hit Lesotho, the highest country in the world, which is why many people come to this area – to head up Sani Pass. That was mostly why I was there but also to see how different it looked from the Northern part. My plan was to take a trip the next day up to Lesotho through the Sani pass and then to spend the next day hiking. Well, the hostel decided to cancel their trip to Sani Pass and Lesotho as they didn’t have enough people. Just my luck I was thinking as it had been a trek to get there and then my one big thing in the area was shot to hell. Oh well. The hostel booked me on another company’s trip, which was shorter and, of course, much more expensive. At that point, I figured that I had gone all that way and I was damn well going to make it to Sani Pass and Lesotho.

My first day in Southern Drakensberg I spent on an incredible five hour hike through a valley, up a mountain, across and plain and finally down to a river with waterfalls and crystal clear pools to swim in. It was quite enjoyable and a lovely way to spend the afternoon walking about in the lush scenery and splashing in the pools. Thank god for the map/directions that they gave me, though, as I might never have returned. There were a number of spots where the trail became quite questionable and I wandered aimlessly for a bit until I found some landmark or the other that was noted on the directions. A machete might have even been useful in a few spots. I don’t think the trail is used very often, which made it all the more lovely.

The next day, I joined the group up through the Sani Pass to Lesotho. It was quite the road. You really do actually have to have a 4x4 to make it there. Often roads said you needed them but if you drove slowly, you could get by. This road – no way! It took about an hour and a half to wrap our way up the switchbacks over the boulder strewn road and when we finally got there, we were all so jostled we could barely stand. At the top, we spent some time visiting a Lesotho village and seeing how these mostly nomadic people live. Basically we were at a small village/rest post type place where the traders, shepherds and traders stopped on their way up or down to Underberg. Huts were made of grass with grass and cow dung mixed floors (no, they didn’t smell). They were quite small but had a cozy warm feel to them. The lady who hosted us gave us some local beer to taste and some bread. The bread was fantastic but I can’t say that I would go back for another sip of the local beer. It was a weird yeasty, vinegary smelling concoction that was milky tan colored if that makes any sense at all. A German woman on the trip gave some kids balloons and it was great watching them play. She had to explain to them how to blow the balloons up and before you knew it, 10 kids were standing there in their blankets (that is what the Lesotho people wear as part of their clothing) blowing as hard as they could into these brightly colored plastic things. A number of them were quite successful. After we had lunch in the highest pub in Africa and watched the locals wander about and the clouds shift in and our covering the road down and then revealing the horror of it again.

Back down safely, I spent my last night at the Sani Lodge enjoying a home cooked meal (of my own doing) and talking to a Korean guy and British woman. The next day, I began the adventure back down the hill to the hostel in Pietermaritzburg where I would catch the Baz Bus to Durban. The ride down was much more pleasant as Murielle and I caught a lift with a local errand runner and it was just the two of us smashed together in the front seat on the trip down rather than us with a whole bus load of people and their bags. Had a bit of a layover when we got to town but managed to fill some time with internet, reading and just wandering about to see what Pietermaritzburg was all about. Nothing much really. I had one quite night in Durban and then was off the next morning to Cape Town for my final five and a half days.

Cape Town was lovely and I had expected that five days would be more than enough to see and do everything that I wanted to do (especially since I had already spent a few days there). In reality, I probably could have spent another three days wandering around. I didn’t scrape the surface of the museums available and only managed Robben Island and District Six museum. Neither of which was very uplifting in terms of what the blacks and coloreds (they are different) had to endure at the hands of the white South Africans. Robben Island is where all of the political prisoners (Nelson Mandela being the most famous) were kept and District Six is an area of Cape Town where the blacks and coloreds lived and which the whites decided they wanted. The blacks and coloreds were relocated to Townships outside of town that barely had facilities to support them. The land was never built on by the whites and still sits empty just outside of downtown. They have recently started initiatives to get the land back to the rightful owners, but as expected, this moves quite slowly. The rest of my time was spent chatting with other people at the hostel, looking for jobs in the wine industry, wandering around the city, going on hikes, checking out the beach areas and trying to get last minute souvenirs. Funny, that doesn’t sound like it should have taken up five days…guess I did do a lot of just walking and looking and enjoying the nice warm (and sometimes too hot) weather.

So now, I am in London at my lovely friend (and ex tent mate from Africa) Sus’ house. We are just outside of central London in an area called Dulwich. It is quite lovely and have everything you could need most importantly the local “spit and sawdust” pub (as Sus would call it). I am currently working on my next steps and will have to update you on that later as I have now filled four and a half pages in a word doc and don’t think I can write any more or have you read any more for that matter!
PS - several pics posted below (five I think).

2007-02-01T03:36:00.000-08:00

Sani Pass Road and Lesotho children with balloons.

2007-02-01T03:35:00.000-08:00

Me climbing up the chain ladder at Sentinel Pass

Drakensberg Photos

2007-02-01T03:02:00.000-08:00

Photos From Northern Drakensberg after the big storm.

AND YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE...

2007-01-23T09:27:00.000-08:00

Well, that is if you managed to read the other blog I just posted about two hours ago before I rushed off to the airport (can I tell you how much I love upgrading to business and getting a nice lounge to hang out in with a cocktail and internet access?) So here I am munching away on salt and vinegar chips and consuming what I believe will be my last Castle Lager for a while. The sun is now setting and I can only imagine how nice table mountain would look from a nice waterfront cafe down at the V & A Waterfront. I must say, I am quite sad to be leaving South Africa and have grown very fond of Cape Town. I thought five and a half days at the end of my trip would be enough but alas it wasn't and I missed many many things.

OK, so, now that I have rambled on for a bit, I must get back to the closing story. Oh, if you have not read the previous bloc (one below this one) I highly recommend that you do so as it will bring you up to speed.

When I last left you, I was at a park gate in Sodwana Bay, tired and hungry and debating (or really more pestering and whining) with some gate guards to let us through without payment so that we could just run in and check out the hotel before we committed to staying there. It was quite late at this point and all I wanted was food and a place to sleep for the night. The gate guys, for guards would be too nice of a term, could not make a decision if we should be able to run in or not. We even offered to leave one of us behind. Well, no deal and we ended up paying the fee to just run in, look at the hotel, find that dinner was already done and we couldn't eat there (everything else was outside the gates) and that there were some additional fees, such as renting the linens and park usage stuff. In any case, we opted to head back out (too hungry to skip dinner) and go to another place we checked out before we went in the gates. Why we tortured ourselves by going there in the first place (the place in the park I mean) you may ask? That is, instead of dropping our bags at the place we ended up going back to. Well, that would be too easy! No really, we had this great vision of sleeping at a place on the beach and hearing the waves crash while we slept but turned out that the hotel was not a hell of a lot closer to the beach than the ones outside the gate.

So, anyway, we returned to the option outside the gate - oh, and the gate guards were gone by the time we went back through - apparently they close and well, if we had waited 10 minutes we never would have had the issue in the first place. Back at the hotel, grabbed a beer, calmed the nerves, ordered dinner and ran across to the dive shop, booked a dive and returned to get some food in our stomachs. I cannot stress how much this helped the mood and the rest of the evening. If I didn't already mention it below, I am quite the terrible person if I am low on food and lose all ability to think, reason or function really and can become quite the pain (no, I am not always a pain for those of you who just thought that!)

Next day we went for a dive out in Sodwana Bay on 7 Mile Reef. It was a beautiful reef with lovely coral and loads of fish, but to be quite honest, not really my best dive. I felt a bit heavy in the water (maybe my weight was off) and had visions of crashing into the coral below me and along with that, my mask was a filmy mess inside so vision was quite poor. We didn't really seem to move much around the reef and with there being 8 of us with the dive master, were continually stopping to look at some thing or another creating traffic jams left and right. Otherwise, I highly recommend this beautiful part of the world for a dive...Just not my day I guess. We did get to swim with a group of around 50 dolphins on the way out to the dive shop. They were lovely darting around beneath us and occasionally popping up closer to get a look at us.

After the dive, we headed down to St. Lucia (also a World Heritage Site) to spend a night and get a little closer to our next destination - The Drakensberg Range. St. Lucia was nice but I didn't get a chance to see much. A couple hours at the beach with my book and a wander around town and that was about it. Wayne went for a couple of runs and ended up in an unsafe animal zone and also came across a few hippos, which is what St. Lucia is famous for. Was hoping to have one walk down the streets like the guide book said but given that the streets were paved and there was a lot of activity, I cannot really imagine that. Had a fab borewoer dinner (local farmer sausage that has some weird spicing going on that tastes great). The sausages are HUGE and you buy them in a large coil that looks a little like a dead skinned snake.

So, the next morning, after a little Curio shopping (craft shopping) we carried on up various minor highways to the Northern Drakensberg. We stayed at a place called The amphitheater that looked out at a sheer face of mountains called The amphitheater (funny that). A thunder storm was just about to start when we arrived so we were quite keen our bags out of the car and into the room. Alas, that was not to happen. The check-in girl was quite the blabber mouth and felt the need to go on and on and on about everything that we could do there. She was interrupted several times and ran off to answer the phone, then delayed us for a new guest and started her story all over again (sigh). We tried to escape at one point saying that we just wanted to get our bags in but she would have none of that and pulled us right back saying we would get our room information in a minute.

Of course by the time she was done with her various stories and tangents, it was pissing down rain. Got a bit wet brining in the bags but given that we parked the car right in front of the door of the room, it was not too bad. We were rewarded after the storm with a beautiful rainbow and that lovely deep purple grey sky that comes after a storm and right before the next one moves in. The mountains were incredible and created a wall all along the skyline.

The next day we headed off to hike Sentinel Peak, which is where (supposedly) the second largest waterfall in the world is located and the highest in Africa. However, before reaching the hiking point, it was imperative that we pick up more sunscreen. I was already a bit pink with lips that had blistered from the sun and salt walter and had no intention of adding more pinkness to my body. Well, try to buy sunscreen in an all black village...not really too easy. The best we could do was factor 23 - not water proof or sweat proof! Once we acquired that, we headed off a dirt road to the starting point of our hike.

And at that, it will have to be the ending point of my bloc today. The airline has just called boarding for us and I must run. Hope to update again in the next couple days once I have another computer and my feet are back on the ground.

PS - again sorry for spelling mistakes etc.

AND TO AN END IT COMES

2007-01-23T06:18:00.000-08:00

Oh, OK not quite to an end but my time in South Africa has come to an end...tonight in fact. I only have five hours before my flight takes off and I head to stormy cold England. I am quite tempted to just miss the flight and stay here where it is warm and sunny and I can go play in the pools at the hostel or by the sea. That said, I have had a wonderful time here and will give you a quick rundown of the past couple weeks.

When last I left you, we were heading to Swaziland from Maputo in Mozambique. The original plan was to stay a night in Swaziland and then move into South Africa. Well, Swaziland was nice and we stopped quickly in the Hlane national park in the hopes of seeing another lion. Alas, there were no lions but the rhinos didn't seem very shy. In fact we came around a corner a couple times right into the massive beasts. One was a mother and her baby so we tried to keep bit of a distance. The other group was happily sleeping in the shade under some nice leaf covered trees. It was a nice park overall but a bit disorganized. They had no maps and just left us to wander around the dirty, muddy roads hoping that we didn't get stranded in the muck and left out there until someone happened to drive by, which was not very likely as I think we were just about the only people in the park. Apparently the lions were in an enclosed area and only reachable by 4x4. We did head into the enclosed section, which was a little odd as it was just a large gate with a sign saying "please close the gate". I got the honors of opening and closing the gate, which really didn't make me feel too comfortable as you never know who might be lurking in the bush. Obviously I am still here so nothing terrible happened.

After the park, we headed to what we thought was going to be an nicle little camp/game park. However, when we got there, it was quite deserted and not at all appealing and we think that the lions were basically tame so not very interesting/exciting. We opted to move on and head to Sodwana Bay for another round of diving. Boy was that a long drive day and by the end of it, I think I was up for being put in the middle of the road and run over by the car a few times. It was so hot and tiring and well, I was really hungry and that always makes thinking (functioning really) for me quite impossible. To top it off the hotel we planned to stay at was way back in the park and to get there you had to go through the park gate and pay. We weren't even sure we were going to stay there so a debate between ourselves and the gate guard ensued with us begging to just run in and check the place out and then come back and pay. True to their nature and inability to make decisions, the guards waffled on about it for ages....

OK, sorry to break the flow of things but I just wrote a very long long blog and lost it so now I am back to square on and at this point must leave you so that I can head to the airport. Shocking as it is, I plan to be at the airport three hours before my flight. Yes, family, sit down, I know you are all staring at the computer screen right now, mouths wide, thinking that this is not your dear ole steph writing at the moment. However, it is and so, I am off in my effort to for once, get somewhere early!

I will have to finish with the guards and Sodwana Bay then update to today when I touch down in London.

ANOTHER YEAR, ANOTHER LION

2007-01-14T06:35:00.000-08:00

Well, not really much of another lion as Kruger was not particularly plentiful in the lion area, in fact, we only saw one and she was a bit off the road. Still she was graceful, beautiful and wonderful to watch slink along the edge of the grass and into the trees. Then again, I guess, another lion could refer to another year ahead to tackle but that seems like a bleak way of looking at the new year and I would much rather look at it as another year to hunt for more adventures and, so far so good.

New Year’s eve and the first four days of the new year were spent in Kruger National park attempting to see more lions, leopards, elephants, hippos, rhino etc. etc. etc. It rained on New Year’s eve so the animals weren’t particularly cooperative the first 24 hours of so and had all wandered off to find shelter or enjoy the nice lush lands that appeared right around them, reducing their need to wander. However we did get to see a fair number of good things in the following days: a massive leopard enjoying a nap on a rock and then climbing the tree for a late afternoon snack, multiple rhino sightings, huge bull elephants wandering off and on the road in front of us and a group playing in the local watering hole, zebras hanging with their favorite buddies – the wildebeest, and a couple hyenas. One hyena was lounging right on the side of the road with her two cubs (? – babies? Wonder what they are called) feeding. She barely even stirred when we drove up, only looked at us with her huge eyes and then put her head back down. Clearly we weren’t a threat to her little ones. It was incredible to see her so close up and not moving and I can now see how they are actually part of the cat family and not the dog family. She really did live up to the name “spotted hyena” and you could see the spots on her fir, almost clown like really. Oh, and I must not forget, loads and loads and loads of Impala. They really are like rabbits – no lion is ever going to go hungry in that park and in fact, I think they might need a few more lions to help reduce the population. Still they are cute.

PS on the animal sightings…also had a small cobra run across the road in front of us and by small, I do mean tiny. It stood up in front of the car (to its full four inch height) and flared it’s head menacingly as if to let us know who was boss and well, then we drove over it and it was gone. No, we did not hit it.

MOZAMBIQUE HERE WE COME…

After Kruger we headed for the Ressano Garcia boarder post keeping our fingers crossed that the crossing would not be as painful as we were told it would be. Before departing we had to get permission from the rental car company to take the car over the boarder, registration papers, a sticker for the back that said ZA for South Africa and secondary car insurance. Cash in hand the prepared to pay up the various bribes we approached customs. In fact, they ask for none of our papers except the rental agreement and the secondary insurance and charged us exactly what we thought they would to cross the boarder and get the visas. The worst thing about the crossing was having to go from point A to point B and back to point A for a signature, then to point B to show the signature from point A and possibly hitting a point C somewhere in the middle. It probably took about an hour to get through everything and then we were on our way to Tofo to enjoy a few beach days.

Getting to Tofo didn’t seem too bad to start with as the reputedly hideous roads seemed to be quite good and we were making good time. That was, until just after Xai Xai, when I took the wheel and the road turned into pothole city. It was like playing a video game – dodging potholes, people and even the occasional bus or car that strayed onto our side of the road to avoid a pothole or person on it’s side of the road. And just when we hit the grand finale of potholes – a patch that spanned the entire road and turned out to be several inches deep in places (the one I hit) – I managed to get just the right angle and, well, bent the rim. Wayne was quite the trooper and took this all very calmly and didn’t bitch, moan or well, get bitter with me, which he well could have. We dug out the spare, which thankfully was a full tire and not one of the doughnut things. As is the norm in Africa, loads of people started oozing out of the previously unpopulated grass and trees on the side of the road and all descended upon us like locusts. They wanted to help – for a price that is. Wayne could barely managed to get the bolts loosened before one of the guys enthusiastically started jacking up the car. We had to shoo them off like flies on a fresh fruit tart. Of course, once we were finished and getting in the car, they tried to explain that they wanted money. We still aren’t quite sure what they wanted money for – maybe getting in the way?

The car righted, we carried on to Tofo and finally arrived at our destination around 8:30. After tracking down someone to show us where we were to sleep (reception was closed) we were lead to a grass tool shed looking building. OK, that is a mean description and probably stems from what was inside. The outside looked fine, in fact a little like a cute grass hut. However, once the light was flipped on, we looked inside to see two very dingy, old tired, torn mattresses tossed onto a concrete floor with mossie nets tied above them. The guy who showed us our place explained that they didn’t really provide sheets and said – “you do have your sleeping bags right?” – which we didn’t. He was kind and managed to track down some polyester sheets (great for the heat and humidity we were in) and some very disgusting pillows (rather sleep with my head on a stinky dirty dog). We took the sheets gratefully and did what we could to fashion pillows out of clothes. It looked a little better in the daylight the next morning but my feet sure as hell didn’t. Thought it was mossies at first, but realize now, it was probably bed bugs. My toes, top of my feet, ankles and even up my legs were covered with little red bumps. Thought after all those years of my dad tucking me in with “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!” would have been enough to keep them away for a lifetime (love you dad!) but they finally caught up to me. My feet are finally now just recovering. Needless to say, we changed to another hostel that turned out to be much better and also right bang on the beach.

Tofo was lovely and we went out for a couple of dives, which were quite nice. Saw a few Mantas – so gracefully and peaceful to watch. Supposedly they are about 4 meters across, but they don’t feel that big when you are watching them in the water. On the first dive we finished it sitting on the top waiting for the boat and watching a manta circle below us. It just kept going around and around with the light reflecting off various parts as it moved and then finally dove to deep to see. We also took a quick tour out on the boat in search of Whale Sharks. It is supposedly Whale Shark season in Mozambique but weather patterns have changed and they seem to be coming earlier. We did get one though and all jumped in the water and same over and around it. They are massive creatures and the one we saw was supposedly 9 meters long, or, the size of our boat. We swam with it for around 7 minutes and at one point it was so close that I swore the current from its tail, would push me off to the side. They are so giant and so docile. It just glided through the water ignoring us.

After Tofo we headed to Vilankulos for a couple nights and maybe another dive. The hostel was pretty decent and we had yet another grass hut thing. Did a snorkeling trip out to Magaruque island in the Bazaruto Archipelago on a dhow boat. The dhow is very similar to the Felucca in Egypt and equally amusing. We should have known it might not be the smoothest of trips given the rude owner, the motor that wouldn’t start initially, the yelling between one of the boat captains and the owner and well, the fins that bent down and were supposedly “special snorkeling fins” (hah!). Our captains spent half the time bailing and half the time sleeping, which was OK as long as one of the three was awake to steer the boat. We ended up having to stop at another island to pick up a guy and a boat and tow them back to the mainland so while we had the benefit of seeing another island (briefly) we were slowed a bit by the extra weight. Once we got to the island and sorted out the gear, which was all the wrong sizes, we jumped in the water for a quick tour of the reef. The snorkeling was OK but the water a bit cloudy as some crazy storm system was off the coast and the currents were quite strong. We pretty much just had to jump in and watch the fish go by. On a clear day it must be absolutely amazing as you could see loads of fish and some quite colorful coral. Nice way to pass an afternoon in any case. On the way back we got caught in a crazy storm and all got soaked. We had a bit of a laugh about it, shook with cold until the storm passed over, rushed back to take (cold) showers and then finished the afternoon with a few beers and dinner with the Swiss couple that had also taken the dhow trip. All in all, it was a good day.

Given that we weren’t in love with Vilankulos, we decided to head back down to South Africa. Another long drive day got us to Maputo, where we managed to get pulled over by the “police” for going the wrong was down a road. They informed us that we needed to go to the post office to have the ticket written for our error. Reluctant to comply, we looked at each other a little skeptically but decided that they were four and all had big machine guns so we ought to maybe see…Well, we drove about ½ of a block and one of the guys got off his very beaten up motorcycle – oh, and did I mention that they were basically in riot gear? – and came to our window. When we rolled down the window he said that a cold drink or something would make it better and we could go on our way. This lead to a debate between Wayne and I on how much money we could and should give or could we head to the gas station up ahead and maybe buy them a drink. We parted with 50 Meticas (Mozambique money) and about 6 Rand for a grand total close to $4. Not so bad.

The next day we headed for the Swaziland/Mozambique boarder to see if we couldn’t find something fun to do in Swaziland. However, I will have to tell you about all that at a later date as the queue for the Internet is growing and my next bus is about to arrive.

ONWARD HO!

2006-12-29T11:03:00.000-08:00

Wow, how time is flying! I can't believe that it is already time for me to make my way to Jo'berg and to dare another trip on a bus. This time I plan to be prepared and make a quick stop in a KFC or maybe even the local Chicken Licken – well, OK, maybe not. Hopefully since it is a day trip and only 7 hours, I won't have the “welcome to the fast food grease pit” thing going on again.
So, what have I been up to the past few days...well after a second wonderful night in the Mantis and Moon Oasis, we got another early start and headed back to Umkomaas to do some more diving (Payson dived the day before). Ok, wait, before I go on, I am sure some grammar police somewhere is saying that I should use the word “dove” not “dived”, well after the dive in Zanzibar with the rest of my overlander friends, we got into a debate about this. The Canadians said “dove” and the American (me) said “dove” but the Brits said “dived”. Given that it was such a heated debate, one of the the Canadians went out and did a little research and discovered that when diving, as in scuba diving or diving off a diving board, one should say “dived” but in other instances the word “dove” is appropriate. Go figure. If anyone else has any other thoughts, please feel free to jump on in!

OK, back to my story, we headed to the dive shop to dive the Aliwal Shoal, about 60kms South of Durban off the coast of a little town called Umkomaas. Will and Payson both decided to do the shark dive, which entailed going out on a boat, chumming the water (dropping in a canister with some chopped up fish) and then waiting. Once the sharks appeared, they all jumped in and hovered at about 12 meters watching for as long as they wanted or as long as their air lasted. Payson said it was the most peaceful dive he had ever done, meanwhile Will said it was a bit freaky and that he was “on guard” the entire time. I opted out of the shark dive and went the more benign route diving just the shoal itself, which was still known to have a sharks running around (the ones that run off to check out the chumming), over a thousand different fish species and beautiful soft coral.

It was quite a frantic dive experience. Not sure how great the operator was as they didn't as a single one of us to see our dive cards. Sort of an important thing. Equipment getting was like running around a grocery store with unnamed aisles trying to pick up bits but not getting them the first time round. Basically they said, “OK, go back there and get your equipment” and a guy handed you part of it, but not all and then you had scavenge around to find the rest. Then there was getting the wet suit, which they seemed to be short of and kept insisting that super large ones would work just fine for some while cramming other people into suits one size too small. Will swears that when he peed, it had no way out of the suit and so he had to unzip under water and try to flush his suit out with water. I can only imagine what that looked like.

Once set, having put my equipment together completely unsupervised and unchecked, everything was loaded into a truck and taken down to the river mouth so that we could jump in the boat and shoot out to sea. They did not have a pier to launch from so we had to start in the river and time the waves that were crashing in to get out to sea. It was quite a wild ride and I am sure my sis would have been green in the face and proving the fishies with some food before we even made it past the first wave. It didn't get much calmer once we were out at sea and we were faced with big rolling, stomach dropping waves. Then, finally were were there and the following instructions were given, “Put on your mask, get in, and go!”. Normally the boat captain or dive master checks to make sure you are in the water OK before heading to the bottom, but well, before I knew it, all fins were in the air and we were heading down. I have never felt a current like this one. I think I sucked half my tank down in the first five minutes while trying to find something to grab on to so that I could orient myself. To speak in Sus' words (my first tent mate on the overland trip), “I had to take myself aside and have a little word with myself”. In this case, to convince myself that I could breath, it would be OK, and we were just waiting for everyone to get down, which was taking some time as someone had to go back up, and then we would float nicely along with the current and not fight against it. In these moments, I did also manage to think about the horror my dear auntie Jane would feel seeing nine people clinging to coral covered rocks at the bottom of the ocean. It was such a crazy current I am amazed that I was able to hold on as long as I did.

The coral did bite back, however, and now I have a few nice scrapes on my wrists and fingers that are reminding me again and again not to touch the sea life. I did mention to the dive master that I was surprised as most dive masters state very clearly that you are not to touch things and he agreed but also said that well, not too many people were out there so, it wouldn't do too much damage. Yeah, right, not too many people, just 7 dive shops that go out five times a day with six to eight people on each boat. Sigh...The rest of the dive was lovely though and we were whisked along the shoal almost from the top to the bottom in about an hour covering approximately 2.5km. Amazing, huge, fat starfish, a couple sea turtles (also fighting the current - to get food), and loads of fishies. No sharks though, as they were all down with the other boat at the far end of the shoal. Definitely a nice place to dive.

After that we grabbed a quick bite and headed up the coast toward Durban and the Hippo Hide. I am still amazed at all of the people standing on the side of the road trying to hitch somewhere or the other. They make signs with their hands or hold a piece of paper with a few letters on it to indicate where they are going. In many cases they hold out a bit of money to indicate that they are willing to pay for the ride. The roads are most packed during the morning commute and at those times, you often see people dressed as they are going in to office jobs. Will managed to flip one of them off, which was quite funny. The guy was holding up a finger to indicate where he was going and Will thought he was flipping us off so flipped him off. Payson and I were both a bit shocked and Payson said “What the hell was that for Will?” and Will replied, “Wasn't he giving us the bird?” We both burst into laugher and said, “ugh, no, he was indicating that he wanted a ride”. We all laugh about it now and every time we see someone holding up a finger, ask Will if he wants to flip that guy a bird as well.

Today was a bit of a sad day as my great adventure with Will and Payson has come to an end. Will hopped on his Baz Bus up to Swaziland this morning leaving Payson and I to wander around Durban until Payson also had to leave, heading for the airport to catch his flight back to the states. We had a great Indian meal last night as our “last supper” as Durban is known for having a bit of an Indian flair to it. Supposedly it has the largest Indian population outside of India. Whether or not that is really true, I don't know but by the looks of the people on the street and the people running the shops, I'd go for a “Yes”. It is a very strange city, the downtown almost completely black and Indian but surrounded by quiet peaceful areas full of little shopping malls and the more fortunate who live there. It is loud and dirty and chaotic but supposedly has beautiful beaches that people flock to in the summer (I haven't seen them yet).

And on that note, I am going to return to my book – A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian – don't ask....

AWAY WITH THE FAIRIES TO MANTIS AND MOON!

2006-12-25T23:11:00.000-08:00

No - I have not completely lost my mind, the title is in fact the names of two of the hostels I have stayed at over the past week. I am currently at Mantis and Moon, which is on the Wild Coast section of South Africa about 100km outside of Durban.

I started this little jaunt with an overnight bus trip from Cape Town to East London. It qualifies as one of the more interesting bus trips I have ever taken. My first goal upon boarding the bus was to look for the skiniest person on board to sit next to (everyone seemed to be HUGE, OK, the women were huge). After I narrowed down the skinny part, my next qualifier was a person who was not carrying a bag, box, bucket or container of any sort that had fried fish, chicken and chips. Let me tell you, this was not an easy feet. The bus could have been a mobile Kentucky Fried Chicken. I think I was the only person (and the woman next to me) that was not carrying a grease oozing bag. Guess I didn't realize that this was the required meal for the trip and little old me only brought bread, cheese and olive tapenade.

The lady next to me and I were the only two white people on the bus, which I wasn't really suprised about. I had hoped to chat with one of the more African women and get a little more insight to the culture and history here but they either A. were HUGE and already smashing in their bloke against the window (why is it that the men are always small and the women boardering on hippodum?) or B. carrying a greasy bag of fried chicken or fried fish. She was quite pleasant and making the journey up to her mother's house for the holidays. We settled in for what we thought would be a fairly quiet journey. I pulled out the neck pillow, eye mask and ear plugs and settled in for a restless night of sleep hopeful that I would at at least get a little rest. So looking like a right drooler (british term for idiot) I scrunched myself down in the seat and assumed a position that would not completely cut off all the circulation in my lower extremities.

However, In all the excitement for the holidays, a couple of blokes decided to celebrate their way through the night. Basically that meant that they drank and drank and ate and well, talked and talked and talked and talked and talked - you get the idea. It even made it through my trusty ear plugs. They also decided at about 11:00 that a movie might be in order. The sound didn't quite work and every time we hit a bump, the sound system cut out and changed and I couldn't figure out if it was people talking on the bus or actually was the movie, or just the loud guys three seats up. Half sleep haze is quite an odd thing and really my mind wandered all sorts of directions. So, finally at 6:30 am when we arrived at a gas station for the morning break, I gave up on the sleep thing. The guy was still talking and the woman next to me was LIVID and could not believe it was so bad. She had tried during the night to quiet them down but that just made it worse and he got louder. I belive he did take a nap around 10:00am for an hour or so but that was about it. So needless to say, it was not a restful night but also apparently not the norm for the journey.

Upon arrival, I hopped onto another shuttle and headed up to Away With the Fairies, a hostel up in Hogsback. The place was a childhood vacation spot for JRR Tolkein and I can see where he got all the ideas for the forest lands of his book. It was set up on a cliff overlooking the valley and the three mountains called, funnily enough, Hogsback 1, Hogsback 2 and Hogsback 3. The view were incredible when the mist was not blowing around the bungalows. Thought I might even bump into a fairy or two. I cannot describe how magical the place was and how mystic. We had a group meal in the cozy bar, played cards and prepared for our hikes the next day. The big draw here, besides the mountains, is the number of water falls around the area. It is covered in them. It had rained a bit the night before so the paths were muddy but that didn't stop us from tromping through and climbing up amongst the roots and rocks to reach the beautiful cascades of water coming down the cliffs and ledges. Had planned to go for a swim in one of the many rock pools but when Will came out with little worms on him, I decided that might not be such a good idea. It had been clear most of the day but by the time we climbed back out of the valley and to the top, the mist had blown back in and the entire town - wow, I made it sound substantial and I should have said, little hobbit-like village - was covered in mist. It was so thick that we couldn't make out the cows in the road until we were about 10 feet from them. Really gave you a feeling of isolation - but in a good way. Had another fun night of cards, beers and good conversation and prepared to head back down the hill to the coast again.

Back at the beach, I settled in for the Xmas celebrations at Buccaneers Hostel in Cintsa. I had already met a few of the people there along the road so had a good base of friends to celebrate with and then I met Anne, a sweet German girl, who also joined in. The hostel had a huge celebration planned with hors d'eouvres and cocktails (blue and green ones with a vodka base and that tasted a bit like toothpaste) overlooking the ocean follwed by roast chicken, lamb and ham with all of the trimmings. Every table had several bottles of champagne, party crowns and christmas crackers. There were over 90 people at the celebration with about 10 per table. My table consisted of a fellow american, germans, dutch, a south african, swissies and a belgian guy. We drank mightily of the champagne, stole it from other tables, and pulled more christmas crackers than even kids would know what to do with. It really was a grand time. After, everyone retired to the bar for more festivities and dancing late into the night. Christmas day was a bit of a recovery day for all but started off nicely with a champagne and orange juice (tang like stuff in this case) breakfast down by the pool. Many people picked right back up from the night before and continued to drink throughout the day but us more modest folk, enjoyed the mimosa's and hung out by the pool reading books for most of the day. In the afternoon, we did muster enough energy to go take a walk on the beach, which was fantastic. Got caught in a bit of a rain shower while we were out but the weather was warm and we didn't mind too much.

By the time we made it back to the pool for the evening braai (BBQ) , a bunch of drunk guys had taken over the pool and were playing naked beer and volley ball. We decided that they were the afternoon's free activity (the hostel had a free activity each night - the night before was wine and volleyball) and settled in to laugh a bit at them, and well, with them. They carried this on through the night, which was not suprising, and finished in the bar doing shots called Springboks, with their pants around their ankles.

The idea behind the Springbok shot (Amarula and peppermint schnapps) that sprinboks have white asses so, if doing the shot, one must bare their ass crack. Clearly the enthusiasm from these gentlemen was quite high as the pants seem to have made it a little lower than the ass crack. It did make for quite a laugh watching them with their hands held to their heads imitating antlers, looking left and right for lions, then jumping forward to the bar and leaning over to pick up the shots with their mouths (springboks have no hands). All in all, a very amusing Christmas!

On boxing day, Will (a Canadian I had met) made it back down from Away with the Fairies and met up with Payson (the american - also met at Away with the Fairies) and me. From there we hopped into Payson's car and headed down the coast to Mantis and Moon for a couple nights. Payson was heading my way to go diving and I told him about the place I was planning on staying and he decided it was a better bet than his original choice. Will also heard about it and was going to go with Payson as well so we all ended up at Mantis and Moon for a couple of night for relaxing and also diving. The place is fantatistic. It is nestled back in a rain forest with little wooden paths throughout and banana leaves the size of beach towels. There is a rock pool, a jacuzzi and a very cool bar/sitting area. Half of the bungalows are up in treehouses. Tomorrow we will go diving and hopefully run into a few sharks!

Well, I think I am exhausted after all that! Time to go and find the evening meal at the local Spar (we are going to give cooking a try!)

WHAT TO WHEN BEING ATTACTED BY AN OSTRICH

2006-12-21T04:55:00.000-08:00

Well, it has been over a week since I have heard Charles’ “Don’t Waaaaiiiiit!!!!” cry for breakfast, lunch or dinner and I seem to be managing to maintain all the pudge I put on eating three massive meals a day and not getting much exercise. This, despite the fact, that I have been getting loads of exercise the past week. Jules I tackled every trail we could find and we even threw in a canoe trip for good measure.

So, after a few days in lovely, sunny, warm, brilliant Cape Town with the ocean breezes and many goodbyes to the other Overlanders, we packed up our things and jumped into a very small, and probably incredibly dangerous, little white car thing. Not sure if it was more qualified for Barbie or for us but as we have made it safely back to Cape Town again, I will give it credit for being a form of human transport rather than doll transport. Our plan was pretty simple – drive up the coast to Plettenberg Bay, relax there for a few days, head to Fairy Knowe in the Wilderness Park area (still on the coast), then go inland to Oudtshoorn to check out the ostrich farms and finally spend a couple nights in Franschoek enjoying the winelands.

Plett (Plettenberg Bay) was fantastic. Gorgeous sweeping beaches with crystal clear turquoise waters. We were floored by the many mansions dotting the hills around the bay and are still baffled at how the people here are affording them especially after seeing the townships (shanty towns) on the way out of Cape Town. We did, just for fun, check out the pricing on these gorgeous mansions with unparalleled ocean views (OK, I’ll give you that there are equally lovely places on the CA coast). It appears that you can get a pretty decent sized abode (starter that is – 3 to 4 bedrooms and an ocean view) for around US $500,000 or ZAR3.5 million. We did a couple day hikes in the Plett area – Robberg and Tstitsikama – both of which ran along the coast and provided great views of the surrounding area as well as dolphins and seals. The trails were most interesting and not just for the scenery. They sort of, well, disappeared on occasion and we had to do a bit of searching to figure out exactly where it picked back up. This meant that we took a slightly different route going out than coming back. In many cases, we were climbing along rocks on the beach searching for some footprint painted on a rock or scrambling across and down stream/creek beds looking for where it picked up on the other side. Of course, when you didn’t need a sign post or direction, there was one, and when you did, there wasn’t. Still, it was fun and I can’t say I have been on a hike before with such varied terrain.

In Fairy Knowe, we did pretty much the same thing but our destination on these hikes was to water falls rather than down and along the coast. They were quite nice and for one of them, we had a 3km canoe trip to get to the jumping off point for the trail. Sadly the water lacked crocs and hippos grunting at us but it did have some nice birds and the scenery was quite pleasant as well. Trails were equally interesting as in Plett, which made for good laughs as some other hikers tromped by in their flip flops and sandals. We topped our final day at Fairy Knowe off with a paragliding trip. Jorg, one of the workers at the hostel, was an instructor so we went out with him. It was incredible floating, or shall I dare say soaring, over the hills, beaches and water. Jorg was quite a laugh as well so it made for an enjoyable chat. Although, it did make me a bit nervous when he got excited about what he was explaining and used his hands to gesture, leaving the sail controls completely unattended. He obviously knew what he was doing since we did land safely back on the ground.

Oudtshoorn was out next stop – ostrich capital of the world and known for being a leaner, tastier dark meat than beef. It is, in fact, quite tasty and the skin does also make for some very nice purses. Our first venture in Oudtshoorn was to go see the Cango Caves and take on their “Adventure Tour” which involved crawling through incredibly small places from cave to cave with names like the Devil’s Coffin and The Post Box. The caves were beautiful with loads of stalactites and stalagmites that had been formed over millions of years and in a few instances, joined together to make one giant column. I think we reached about 150 meters below the surface and did a few kilometres worth of trekking. We topped the day off with an ostrich meal – as you have to do when in the ostrich capital of the world.

The next day started off with an ostrich egg breakfast (not so sure about the texture of the egg when scrambled but otherwise quite a nice mild taste) and then went on to a farm where we could learn more about these funny little creatures that dotted the hills around Oudtshoorn. The tour ended with the chance to sit on and also to ride an ostrich. Somehow I opted myself into the riding section of the group and got dumped on the poor little bugger first. Boy did he go! Thankfully, they have two “jockeys” who are versed in ostrich riding that run along side and made sure you don’t hurt yourself. Basically, they catch them by hooking their necks and then dumping a bag over their heads. They walk them, must like a prisoner going to execution, over to a blocked section/cage where they are held so that us humans can climb on top. When they are ready to be released, the guide takes the bag off their heads and well, they back right out and sprint off. Meanwhile, the rider holds on to the bones in the wings for dear life, and if possible wraps their legs around the front of the body. I think I lasted about 5 seconds. It is quite sad really and I don’t think I this is something we should be torturing the poor birds with. They did not look happy at all to be caught and ridden.

We wrapped up our trip with a couple of nights in Franschoek just enjoying the scenery, checking out the cute little shops, tasting wine and with me, having a few meetings and trying to get to know a few people in the industry here. Odd to actually have meetings again…think I was doing quite nicely without them – at least for now. Still having too much fun wandering about.

Now I am back in Cape Town. Jules left early this morning so we had a celebratory meal last night at a fun funky restaurant that would have cost at least a couple hundred in the US but came to around $70 here (a good bottle of wine included). It was sad to see her go and today is a slow day with me doing a bit of an admin as I have free access to a computer and internet (sigh). Tonight I’ll hop on an overnight bus up to East London for a few more days of coast time (working my way up) before I head into Jo’berg to meet my friend and then head off to Kruger for the New Year.

Oh, I think I forgot to address the title of the blog…apparently you are to lie down and play dead (this seems to be a theme when being attacked by some vicious creature). Once you have done that, it is likely that the ostrich will trample you and that it will be excruciatingly painful. Given that you will still have your wits about you (ha, ha) you are to grab one of the legs (not sure how since they will be trampling you) and pull the bird down. The ostrich will fall on his back and then you are to grab the neck and smack it on the head. A blow to the head will kill it and then you are safe and free to go on with your day.

So, if I don’t get to this blogging thing again in the next couple days, MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Oh boy,do I really get to ride an ostrich?

2006-12-21T04:49:00.000-08:00

photos of my overland group and paragliding view

2006-12-21T04:41:00.000-08:00

TRUCKLESS AND LOST...or....

2006-12-11T12:22:00.000-08:00

FREEDOM AT LAST! Well, I am off the truck now and have safely made it to Cape Town. Can't believe that it has been over 12 weeks that I have been on the road now...sigh...what a trip! Claudia is still within rock throwing distance parked in the back parking lot and every once and a while, I glance over at her with a small tinge of regret that I won't be getting back on her and heading on another adventure. Then again, I look at my Garden Route plans and the plans after that for going up the coast and on into Mozambique and I think, hell I can choose where I want to go and when I want to do it! Guess both options have their benefits and both options are equally fun, exciting and frustrating.

In any case, where did I last leave off...I am actually not really sure. I belive it was in Windhoek after our big game dinner of local beasts. After that, we carried on to an area where the unique and ever bizarre Quiver Tree is located. It is actually part of the Aloe family. The bark on the trees is similar to a gold lamay crocodile belt and the branches poke up and straight out with spikey little aloe type branches. We then wandered on to Fish River Canyon, which is supposed to be the second largest canyon after the Grand Canyon but apparently there is one in Peru that is also in the running. Regardless, it was quite spectacular. It was actually a canyon within a canyon and if you were really adventuresome, you could do an 85km hike through it. For all the bitching I have been doing about getting zero exercise, it was still a very unappealing offer. We did do a couple of shorter hikes and spent much of a day lazing around a hot spring. Quite ironic that when we finally do get hot water, and I do mean HOT, it is so warm outside that the only thing nice about getting in the hot water is the breeze that dries you off once out of the water. That said, the night swim under the stars and the swim first thing in the morning, were absolutely glorious.

We did a quick canoe trip down the orange river (just a day), then spent the evening in the hostel bar overlooking the water and chatting with a group of people who had just gotten off of a four day trip on the river. Figures that the one guy there "that was mine" - meaning an american - was from Boston and had only ever been out of the country once and that was to London...sigh...the stereotypes that I have to correct out here. I have actually been voted an honorary commonwealth by the aussies, kiwis, canadians and brits on the trip and several times have needed to apologize for "the ones that are mine" along the road. Thankfully there have not been too many.

So, onward we went to the wine country, Stellenbosch, where I was happily back in my element. Beautiful is about all I can say about the vineyards. The wine isn't too bad either. Jules and I rented a car and tooled around one of the days and had a grand ole time chatting with the locals. After a couple of good days of that, we arrived at our final destination - Cape Town. Wow, I cannot believe it. I am still reeling from the fact that I don't get back on the truck anymore and that all the people I have spent the past 10 weeks with (two of them 12 weeks) are peeling off one by one. It will be strange but I have no doubt that I'll adapt.

Past couple of days here have been spent poking around, touring the Cape of Good Hope and climbing Table Mountain. Have continually run into the truckies, so that has been nice and in many cases, have had a good laugh about a number of things and said "goodbye" again for the fourth or fifth time. Tomorrow, it really will be goodbye as Jules and I pick up our car and head to Plettenberg (sp). I am too tired at the moment to write too much or anything of wit, so off I will go. However, before I do, here is a pic of me finally there...

IS THAT REALLY A STOP LIGHT?????

2006-11-29T23:54:00.000-08:00

Well, it appears that I have arrived back in civilization at last...gone are the drop toilets and red mud campsights. Welcome to clean, warm showers and nice grass to pitch the tents on. Actually there is still quite a bit of dust around and the random camp site with loads of ants that must be avoided (they bite). We spent five blissful days lazing around the town of Swakopmund (Swakop to those in the know) eating the most lovely game you could imagine. Had Kudu, Zebra, Springbock and my personal favorite, Oryx in a wine peppercorn sauce. It wasn't cheap by Namibian standards but by US standards we were getting a bloody good deal at around $10 for an appetizer and a huge piece of meat for the main. Swakopmund was just like being in a German seaside village - loads of good brown bread, sausages and weissbeer, which Jules and I managed to find and then consume loads of. On Thanksgiving, the two of us innocently stumbled upon the Brauhouse and thought, "gee, let's have a drink while we catch up in our journals". Four hours, four big HUGE weissbeers and a rump steak (each) later, we decided to consider ordering some apple strudel for dessert - that was until we saw the price of the beers and realized that they were $26 Nambian$ each (our rump steaks were the special of the day at $28 each). All we could do is laugh, comment on how fantastic the beer was (much better than the local stuff) and put it back into USD to realize the entire thing cost about $20USD each - not bad for a fab meal, four hours and great beer. Good way to celebrate Thanksgiving I think.

So after Swakop, we wandered on up to Etosha National Park (a little backwards in terms of travel as we are now heading back down). It is known for its fantastic night viewing at the wateringholes. We had one good watering hole night with two lionesses wandering around and drinking from the pool while the jackals ran around behind them and made whooping cries to warn the other animals. Nothing else came round that night, which really isn't all that suprising. The other two nights were fairly quiet with loads of springbock, frogs and a few wildebeest. The game drives were, again, fantastic. The scenery in the park is amazing with white salt pans in some areas and grassy plains in others (it is the beginning of the rainy season so a bit more green around than usual too). It was so beautiful to look at the zebra with the deep blue sky and white ground behing them. Loads of giraffe as well (always my fave). We saw another kill, a zebra this time, with about 9 lions eating off of it. Incredible as it was right on the side of the road. After that we stopped at a large watering hole and watched just about every animal you could imagine play in the water and roam the grasslands - we had lions, elephants, kudu, springbock, black faced impala, oryx and giraffe all in one go!
One baby elephant was having the time of his life playing with his trunk. It was like he had just discovered this thing hanging off of his face and was waving it around in the water and splashing everyone and running about with it flopping all of the place. I tried to capture the scene but well, couldn't quite get the camera to really get what I wanted...oh well.

Now we are off to Sesriem to do a bit more camping and climb up a massive dune for sunrise. Can't believe I only have two weeks left on the truck and then Jules and I are down the garden route for bit. Should be fun to see what mischief we can get up to.

SPITZKOPPE and THE SKELETON COAST

2006-11-24T01:15:00.000-08:00

The last two days before arriving here in Swakopmund were spent hiking in Spitzkoppe and camping on the beach at km 108 on the skeleton coast. Landscape here in Namibia on the coast is absolutely desolate. There is nothing out there and you can, even today, understand why it was such a terrible place for a ship to wreck. There is absolutely no drinkable water around and you are miles and miles and miles from any sort of civilization.

Spitzkoppe is an amazing rock cluster shooting out of the flat lands with some great rock climbing and hiking. Jules and I went on quite the venture and climbed up to a pace called Bushman’s Paradise at the top of the rocks. Not sure how much of a paradise I would have called it but I guess in the rainy season it could be quite lush and green in the little valley at the top of the hill. Here are a couple pixs of the rock and jules and I hanging out. Note the truck in the bottom right corner of the rock picture for a sense of scale.

Oh, also, you will have to drop down to the Mighty Zambezi section to read in order as I have posted this all in one go!

PS - that is jules in the photo w/me

PROMISE THEY WON’T EAT ME? – Cheetah Park

2006-11-24T00:54:00.000-08:00

Never thought I’d be head butted by a cheetah, but well, I was…Now back in Namibia, we camped in a place near Etosha National Park, that is known for saving cheetahs from the hands of the farmers (they get killed for killing the cattle) and released back into a semi-wild setting where they are given hunks of meat but for the most part live as they would in the wild. They actually have two pens, one with three “tame” cheetahs and one with 18 wild cheetahs. Our visit to the tame cheetahs involved staying at least 2 meters away from them unless one of the family/owners was present and then we could pet them. The cheetahs seemed to know the drill and as soon as we entered the cage, which was actually just the fenced in area of the family’s front yard (a large one) they came purring on up and we crowded around. Only two showed up and apparently the third felt a little left out as he too decided to make his entrance by coming straight into the back of my legs, pushing them apart and walking right through. I think I was too in shock to really realize that I had a cheetah walking through my legs – it was just like an every day cat going for a stroll – well, one that was about 3 feet in height and with very sharp teeth. He didn’t seem to take much notice at all and tossed himself down next to the other two and began licking his owner’s hands. They did get a bit snappy toward the end after having several of us pet them and a few teeth were barred but no blood drawn. Someone had the bright idea of asking if the owners thought any of the three would kill them and the answer came back, “One, for sure would not, but the other two…who knows!” Glad we were out of the cage at that point.

Of course we also saw the wild cheetahs and did a feeding with them and they were spectacular. They make the strangest sound, like a cross between a purr and a bird trill, high and chirpy but with a deep throaty undertone. When we first entered the park, there was nothing and we were all looking out into the brush hoping for the first sign and before we knew it, they were coming out of every corner, loads of them walking down the road following the truck and coming for their nightly meal. Not sure what delicacies were tossed at them but they seemed to enjoy whatever it was and immediately jumped in. A few, probably the ones that ate well the night before, just paced around the truck and looked at us. Maybe they weren’t actually full but trying to figure out how to get us out of the truck for a fun little chase and feast. They still have all their instincts and are by no means tame as they had taken down and killed a Kudu the night before that had wandered a little too close to the fence – took down the fence too! In some ways, I think it is sad that they are not in the wild, but if they had stayed in the wild, they would have been dead already

THE BUSHMEN

2006-11-24T00:42:00.000-08:00

The next day, it was off to visit the Bushmen. It all sounds quite exciting to head out into the bush and camp with a local tribe that uses the click language still but unfortunately I think there are very few of those left. In reality we turned off the main road at a sign posting that said “Come experience a living Bushman village – 6km” with an arrow. We bounced down the dirt and sand road for the 6km only to arrive at another sign posting that said “Wait for your guide here.” and had a list of activities that could be done while in the “bush”. We were greeted by two men and a woman wearing western clothes and told to wait. About 15 minutes later, the same three returned wearing various animal skins draped over their bodies and carrying bows, arrows and crudely fashioned axes. They then took us on a little tour of the bush and showed us the plants that they use for medicine and to eat. It was actually quite interesting but still felt very contrived given that after the tour of the bush, we were invited, for a $7 USD fee, to visit the “Nowadays Village”, which is really how they live. There was a selection of other activities we could watch them do (jewellery making, hunting, marriage ceremonies) that afternoon as well, but all with a fairly hefty price tag attached so we all opted to enjoy a lazy afternoon of relaxing.

Had a fun night of watching the bushmen dance, or really, watching them shake their butt cheeks at us – looked like Jello being furiously jiggled – and toasting marshmallows over the fire. Hoping to sleep under the stars that night, Jules (tent mate) and I fashioned a very crude cover out of tent poles and mosquito netting. Just our luck, it started to sprinkle around 3:00am and we were up, along with everyone else, sorting out how to stay dry. While the camp area rang with people hammering in pegs for their rain covers, Jules and I simply picked up our contraption and carried it under the awning pulled off of the truck that had been put up for shade earlier in the day and fell happily back to sleep.

BACK ON DRY LAND AND OFF TO THE BUSH

2006-11-24T00:39:00.000-08:00

The next day, it was back to dry land through the same means as we arrived in the Delta, although reverse order (obviously). Back in our camp, we were treated to an amazing local dinner – a stew cooked in a big cast iron, pot bellied pot type thing with potatoes, sweet potatoes, rice and veggies – and dancing by the locals. The dancing was a bit awkward. Basically, the entire town turned our, babies included, with a couple of drunk buddies on the drums who pounded away while the women folk, and a few courageous men, danced out two by two and did a little shake. One was apparently so excited to come out and do the dancing that she forgot to take her blue rollers our of her hair.

All cozy in our little tents, we had quite a surprise that night when we felt drops coming through our back screen and moments later a flash of lightening following by thunder. It took a few seconds to click and then Jules and I were up and out hammering down the fly sheet in an effort to keep dry. This, of course, was also the night following a big laundry day and as we climbed back into the tent, we though, hmmm, might want to get the laundry down, and off we stumbled to retrieve our clothes before they received a second washing. Didn’t help much that my glasses were back in the tent and after walking about 30 feet it clicked that well, I could not see much of anything but large objects, one of which could very likely be one of the hippos that wandered through the camp on a regular basis. The thunder was one of the most amazing things I think I have ever heard. It really was “rolling thunder” and started way off in the distance slowly getting louder until it sounded like it was right on top of the tents. Now it is easy to understand how someone came up with that description.

TRUCKS, SPEEDBOATS, POLERS AND BACK

2006-11-24T00:27:00.000-08:00

We departed Chobe and headed back into Namibia and down the Caprivi Strip, which is now quite safe but only four years ago was considered quite a war zone with mines on the side of the road (don’t stop and go for a pee too far off the side) and possibly buried in the elephant dung on the road. Once through the strip, we headed back into Botswana to go to the Okavango Delta. We started our little adventure early in the morning and boarded a large lorry that was kitted out with bench seats in the back and a tarp like cover to kept he sun off. We took this truck from the camp site, across the boarder and into Botswana. From there, we drove out into a very desolate area where we finally stopped at a camp site/hostel on a river. Here we boarded a flat bottomed speed boat similar to what you would find in the swamp areas of Florida and bounced around on that out into the various channels of the delta. It was absolutely fantastic ploughing through these channels with walls of papyrus on either side so dense that there was nothing to see beyond them but more green and more papyrus. The channels were often narrow and twisty and we wound our way around for an hour and a half until we reached a house boat. For all I know, they drove around in circles and dumped us at a house boat 500 yards from the camp. Can’t quite figure out how and when they knew to take each various channel. Saw loads of Fish Eagles (phenomenal bird) and herons and other smaller birds as well as a number of crocs lazing in the sand. Once at the house boat, we settled into our little cabins for an evening of relaxation. When I say “little” cabins, I truly mean LITTLE – there was about six inches between the narrow beds and about a foot at the end of them for our stuff. One wall was a sliding glass door and windows so we looked right out onto the channel. Personally, I was just thrilled to have a proper pillow and pillow case as I have been using a pillow from United’s business class for the past 10 weeks (not that it is bad but hell, double the size doesn’t hurt!). Before completely settling in, we went for a nice sunset cruise through more channels of papyrus and enjoyed a very decent bottle of wine and watched several more fish eagles take flight. All sorts of birds were perched in the reeds and various trees we passed and as we went by, they scattered about, littering the sky with their bodies and calls to each other. Had a fantastic pasta dinner out on the deck with gas lamps and looked up at the stars, which were uninterrupted by the usual lights from various human buildings. I don’t think I have even seen stars reflect off of water and it was one of the most gorgeous things. The river was flowing by quite quickly (with occasionally crocs) and the stars lights rippled in the gentle currents. We couldn’t even pick out Orion very well as there were too many stars in sky to find it. Words cannot describe how lovely it was. Then again, most nights out here have been quite lovely in regards to clear sky and unbelievable star gazing. Slept like a babe that night with the sliding door and windows open, a nice breeze coming through and mosquito nets protecting us from the incessant buzzing of those little buggers that never seem to sleep.

The next day, we again boarded our flat bottomed speed boats and headed off to a little land strip somewhere along the delta. From there, we boarded another open topped, flat bed, bench seated safari type jeep and were taken across a very bumpy road and through a small mud and stick hut town to the edge of another swamp/river area. Here we boarded canoe type boats known as Mokoro (Mekoro if it is plural). Traditionally, these boats were made from the trunks of sausage or ebony trees but because of population growth and the ability for these trees to grow back quickly enough, they have switched to using fibreglass Mekoro fashioned in the exact shape of the tree truck ones. It felt a bit Disneylandesque as we were ushered into our various Mekoro and introduced to the man (Poler), for they are all men, who would be pushing us through the swampy reeds. Jules and my Poler’s name was Pointer (still not sure where they come up with these names). Pointer was a fairly short, sinewy young man with a broad flat nose and flared nostrils, shiny eyes and a lovely faded burgundy women’s velvet hat (including small bow). I must say, at this point, that some of the clothes they manage to find and wear are more than interesting. I think the entire world’s hideously outdated and never to be worn again clothing gets shipped to Africa. It is not uncommon to see a woman walking down the street in the middle of the day going about her shopping errands with a basket of something on her head in a pale pink satin (cheap type) slip dress with yellow plastic shoes or silk, sparkly evening blouse with an African print cloth wrapped around her waist as a skirt. And, clearly, as you can see from above, it is also not uncommon for a man to show up in a ladies hat, or even shirt for that matter. Well, after that rather large tangent, I shall return to Pointer and his poling prowess as we moved through the reedy channels of the swamp. Once settled into our fairly unstable feeling Mekoro and our seats of old school chairs with the legs cut off, Pointer pushed us off shore. Pointer’s role, as a Poler, is to power and steer the boat. He does this by standing in the very back of the boat and pushing us along with a 7+ foot stick with a fork in the bottom. The fork helps to keep the pole steady if there are lots of sticks and things at the bottom that the pole would otherwise slid off.

After a short 10 minute pole through the reed channels, which seemed to be getting smaller and narrower as we went, we arrived at our next camp on an island type area. The camp was quite charming – everything was open roofed and enclosed only by bamboo walls. The bathroom was an enormous open area with showers and sinks placed amongst the tree trunks, using limbs as holders for the towels or shower heads. We were each given cabin tents with cots tucked back behind bamboo walls for privacy. Once settled we headed back out for a tour of the area in our Mekoro. It was a lovely way to spend the afternoon laughing and joking with each other as we were pushed by our Polers through the lilies, which were EVERYWHERE, and papyrus. Loads of birds flying about and calling to each other, my favourite is called the Go-Away bird because when he called is sounds like “Blaaaahhhh” and is quite funny, and of course, the ever present hippos.

These hippos though, were particularly amusing, enclosed in their small pool in the middle of the reeds, popping up and down, blowing water at as and eyeing us sceptically unsure if this should advance and scare us off or if we were OK and could stay a bit longer. They would pop up one or two at a time, make a big show of blowing water, twitch their ears, eye us and then go down with an equally loud gurgle only to come up again a minute or so later as if to say, “Are you still here?” It is quite a different feeling to be in a small boat next to them than it is in the larger safari boats, or even the canoes we had on the Upper Zambezi. This time we had no motor or swift wide river to help get us away.

MORE ELEPHANTS AND HIPPOS

2006-11-24T00:20:00.000-08:00

My body happy and healthy again after a few days of uncertainty, we arrived at a camp just outside Chobe National Park in Botswana. Did a game drive in the morning and a boat/river safari in the evening and yes, as you can see by the title, saw many more elephants and hippos. The morning drive was fairly tame – one leopard in a tree, a handful of Kudu, loads of elephants, a lioness sleeping under a tree, and, oddly enough, a hippo sleeping under a tree (he didn’t look too happy and was very much so out of his element). The elephants were hilarious as there were several young that kept running out across the road and the larger mothers would dash (can an elephant dash? I think probably not, so lets say saunter at a very fast pace) out into the road, look at us and flap their ears. One mid size one even came out into the road, made a little song and dance of it while the baby jogged across behind him and into the bush. Once the baby was clear, he carried on and let us pass through. Thus far, this was probably the least eventful drive we had but does one ever tire of looking at elephants? Not yet for me….The evening’s events were comprised of a sunset cruise down the river back into the park. Tons of hippos were playing about in the water and mock fighting as well as grunting and laughing at us. A couple of them even took on the challenge of chasing us off, which I found quite humorous as we were thousands of times bigger than them. However, it is quite an amazing sight to see hippos launch themselves out of the water with great force and charge at you while grunting and carrying on. I am sure that in their little minds, they were quite positive that they were chasing us off rather than us already heading off.

Had a bit of an issue the next morning when the septic tank decided to overflow and run into our camp site. Jules (Sus, my previous tent mate left after Vic Falls) and I were in a somewhat safe zone but decided it was a good move to pick up the tent and move it elsewhere in case the issue got worse. Not a pretty smell and certainly not a nice thing to have running under the tent. Funny thing was, later in the day, another overland truck came through and camped right on the nasty sewage run off (smell had gone by then) and apparently didn’t care even after we told them.

THE MIGHTY ZAMBEZI

2006-11-24T00:13:00.000-08:00

Wow, what a river! Brilliant rapids as well as fab names for the rapids such as Oblivion, Terminator, Seventh Heaven and Devil’s Toilet Bowl to name a few. Most were class 4 and 5 but there were a few class 3 rapids, which seemed to be tacked on to the larger rapids as 11a, 11b and 11c if you looked at them from a number standpoint. Given that, I have no idea exactly how many rapids we did go over but the official number was 21 in a 28 km stretch of the river. After walking a very broken stairwell and slippery rock face down into the canyon, we put in just at the end of Victoria Falls. The falls are low this time of year so it makes it possible, otherwise we would have missed rapids #1-4. For the most part, we stayed in the boat and only flipped once. Thankfully the one flip we did was not in the Devil’s Toilet Bowl as it really did earn the name, which supposedly was from the whirlpool in the middle that sucked people under for a bit and then spat them out, but in reality, I believe it was from the nasty stench in the pooling water off to the right at the end of the rapid. Everything that had come down the river seemed to have pooled there. Our one flip was, of course, incredibly gracefully – Renee, who was up in front, toppled back into me, smacking me in the mouth and dumping me into Todd, who fell out with the two of us right on top of him. Renee and Todd managed to clear the boat while, after three attempts, I still found myself under the boat in a gurgling, foaming dark cave. It did get a bit unnerving after coming up the third time and not quite knowing when to open my mouth, getting half water and half air and discovering that I was still under the darn boat. Thankfully I have a well rafted father who was good enough to take me on several trips with him, so I kept my wits about me, continued to reach for the rope and pulled myself out and clear. Ahh, fresh air never felt so good, well, maybe it did after I had jumped my 70 meters into the gorge and realized that the rope was still holding me. To top it all off, we saw several crocs hanging out on the rocks as we rafted by so you felt none too safe just hanging out in the water. Story is that these crocs fall off of the falls at a very young age, survive the massive fall, rocks and churning water at the base of the falls and then end up pushed down river a bit where they survive on smaller fish and don’t quite grow up enough to bother with us humans. They really didn’t look that big so we all comforted ourselves with that story – what do we know anyway? Supposedly there has only ever been one death off of Vic Falls as well but each story I heard was different so that pretty much gives it away that there has definitely been more than one. We finished the day with a very healthy (read strenuous) hike back out of the gorge, beers, sodas and an awfully chilly ride back to Vic Falls in an open top safari truck. Needless to say my body was less than thrilled with me after the adrenaline rushing gorge swing jumps and a day of being tossed about a river followed by a cold, wet, ride back to town.

Had phenomenal rain showers and thunder storms that night and we all cowered in various people’s rooms, the bar or the truck until it passed. So with the nice fresh crispness of the rain still hanging in the air, I turned in early to let my poor body repair itself with a good nights sleep.

back from bush

2006-11-17T03:59:00.000-08:00

just back from the bush and a camp in Okavango Delta, which was fab but which I will have to tell you all about when I have more than 15 minutes...though I would post a fun photo...
lv.steph

BIG FAT UPDATE

2006-11-07T00:49:00.000-08:00

Address: #1 ENRIQUE, PIECE OF GRASS, SOMWHERE IN AFRICA

So, here we are again…I have a few minutes and a loaner computer so thought I would jot down a little note. I realize I have said very little to nothing at all about my day to day life here but have loaded up with all the fun stuff I am doing. Guess that is because most of what is going on is quite fun and exciting and even the little day to day stuff that goes on can be amusing. We have had a load of really early starts and by early morning, I mean 5:00am or 5:30am breakfast and 6:00am departures. Often it is for fun stuff like safaris balloon rides or early ferries to places like Zanzibar but that is not to say that we have not had our share of getting up early for long drive days that involve boarders that may or may not be difficult. In these cases, we are in the truck for around 14 hours and eat lunch while driving. Boarders thus far have been a breeze and no one has been arrested or thrown out (yet) – just the usual waiting in line, passing a few pleasantries with the attendant and then getting a stamp, often on page 36 when there is plenty of open space on several pages well before page 36.

Home is a little green military looking tent (Enrique) and Claudia (truck) and whatever flat spot we can find at our camp site to pitch the tent. My roommate, Susanna (Sus), and I share the tent and have plenty of space to spread out and poke each other in the middle of the night should either of us require a bathroom break when bush camping with the lions, leopards and hyena. The one time I did have to wake her up, we scoped out the area, scanned the tall grass behind the tent with the flashlight and well, shortly after returning to the tent, a hyena came and marked his territory right where I did. Chook and Colleen, our tent neighbors that night figured that it has started raining until they herd the sniffing around of the hyena. Last night we had an elephant stroll through the camp. Never managed to see him but certainly herd his footsteps, sniffing and munching on the trees. Sus swears she saw little beady eyes in the dark.

We have divided the 19 people on the truck into cook groups and we rotate through the groups so that each group has a day cooking. This basically means we help our cook with the cutting up of fruits and veggies and whatever other prep work he needs done and then that we help with all the pots and pans and putting away of condiments at the end of the evening. We are pretty particular about getting everything put away at night so that baboons, monkeys, hyenas, elephants etc. etc. don’t come and raid the food and garbage, although this has happened one or twice. Each person does his/her own dish and then after, we all do what is calling ‘flapping’ where we wave our plates, bowls, knives, forks and spoons wildly in the air to help them dry faster. I am sure some of us have lifted off a bit during one of the flapping frenzies. As we have come south, the time required to dry the plate has shortened considerably. We do get quite a few stares though as 19 of us stand there waving blue, orange, and white plates about in the sun and occasionally throw in a few lunges or bird type flaps instead of waving back and forth.

On the road, toilets are al fresco and often on the side of the road. I am surprised no one has taken a picture of us girls lined up behind the truck when we have to stop in areas with no bushes. It is probably a good thing that the locals don’t own cameras cause they are certainly interested in what us crazy mzungu are doing and tend to appear out of nowhere. We can literally stop in the middle of nowhere for lunch or a break – no homes, no people, long stretch of road ahead and behind and within two minutes of us getting off the truck we have an audience. They just seem to ooze out of the shrubs and trees wherever we stop. The most unnerving part about it all is that they just seem to sit there are stare at us and not say anything or ask for anything or want to interact in any way. Guess that is how the animals in the parks feel as we all come barrelling down on them in our safari trucks.

Evenings are often spent having beers, tea and whatever else is around in the camp site if we are in the bush (under the stars of course) or in the local camp bars, which thus far have been quite fun as we get a chance to talk to other overland groups that pass through. Meals have been quite good and tasty, although not good for the waist line as I am doing very little exercise. Breakfasts consist of bacon, eggs, toast, cereal, fruit and yogurt (obviously you don’t have to eat it all). Lunch is often sandwiches, which means it will be a VERY long time before I will want to have another sandwich. The meat product is often quite suspect but hell, it tastes OK and hasn’t gotten anyone sick yet so I’ll continue to eat it. Recently we have had a lot of leftovers for lunch, which means we make up pasta salads with the dressing and spaghetti Bolognese sandwiches. Dinner is often soup, followed by chicken or beef and loads of veggies, which we all love. Our chef, Charles, is quite capable and does wonders with the veggies on our little two burner propane stove.

So, there is the mundane piece of my life, now on to something a little more exciting for next time.

MAS ANIMALES – SOUTH LUANGWA NATINOAL PARK

When I last left you I believe I was in Malawi at the lake and desperately avoiding the bilharzia. From there, we moved into Zambia and went on the South Luangwa National Park to stay at a wilderness camp on one of the oxbows of the currently very dry river. It was fantastic! The camp site was wonderful, the pool, while small, quite refreshing and with a view out over the river and the bar facing out toward the river for some excellent wildlife viewings. We did a couple of game drives there, one in the morning and one in the evening. The morning drive was quite good as we saw a couple of lions having their breakfast on the beach by the river – buffalo this time – again, lovely crunching and cracking sounds as he attempted to dislocate and gnaw off the from leg of the beat. Of course we had to watch for a bit. At one point someone banged something and the lion looked up at us, face all red, just like he had done a poor job of applying lipstick that morning before heading out for the day. Not sure why we have not seen many lionesses with the kills. The night drive was focused a bit on finding a leopard as they are more nocturnal. A tour of the park brought us to about 100 elephants milling about in the open grassland and blocking our path up the road. Two little babies were having a go at attacking each other, head-butting at full charge to see who could knock who off their feet. It was gorgeous to just watch them wandering about and putting at the trees. We had a lovely sundowner on a bank above an open area and watched more elephants, giraffe and zebra while we drank ice cold beers and sodas and then started off into the night to find out leopard. Very strange feeling to be driving around in the dark, the spotlight the only thing shining ahead and dust swirling about the open top truck. We did find two leopards but to me, it was quite a sad and shocking experience. At one point we had one of them completely surrounded by trucks and lights and he couldn’t quite figure out which way to go. Many of the drivers were speeding around to get their clients a better look and in doing so scaring the leopards and also probably their prey. I wish we could have just sat and watched which really is what we were supposed to do. Our driver said that he was going to report a couple of the other drivers as they are told not to do that and all have guiding licences that can be revoked for poor behaviour. On the way out of the park we came across a sick lioness sitting in the middle of the road. She didn’t even move when the truck came up and we parked right along side of her. I could have reached down (it was quite an open truck) and patted her on the head, which I would have quite liked to do but would most likely have lost a hand in doing. When she looked up, my soul just ached. Her eyes had such sorrow and intelligence in them. I will never forget her face looking up and also the fear that at any moment she could decide to move and go for one of us.

We have pretty much all rated this camp as our best camp since we had elephants come for a visit two of the three nights – and by visit, I mean walking right outside and sniffing at our tents – a couple of great safaris, fantastic viewing bar and a last night when an assortment of animals decided to come of a visit at the watering holes – hippos, elephants, impala and giraffes.

TEA WITH ELEPHANTS

After S.Luangwa we headed on our way to the Kafue River where we would stop for a canoe trip down the Lower Zambezi River. On the way, however, Claudia decided to throw a few fits and this time, quite a large one. After two leaky tires in the morning we finally got on the road and were well on our way when BANG, hmmm, that didn’t sound good, lets pull over…ugh…broken axel….everybody off, lunch here! We spent about four hours on the side of a very inhospitable road, cowering in whatever shade we could while Jase and Lucy worked out what our next steps should be. Turns out we were basically sitting in a graveyard of overturned truck and on a runaway ditch so not only were we in bad shape with the truck, we were in bad shape for our safety. Jase went off to arrange transport and by 5:00 in the evening we were loaded into a flat bed lorry and taken the remaining two hours on to our camp for the canoe trip. We were up early the next morning and got ready to braver the croc and hippo infested waters. As it was two night and three days of camping we were all quite loaded down and low to the water, which is a bit discomforting considering the stories we had heard about people being pulled out of their canoes by a croc because they had an elbow hanging out. It was a beautiful three days and the big bonus was that no one was eaten by a croc or tipped by a hippo! We even got in a bit of swimming. In one place we had just passed a croc an then the guide said, OK, we stop here for a little splash. We all thought he was crazy but jumped in anyway and had a lovely time playing in the water and cooling down. There were tons of hippos about (which in my book is better than a croc) and you could look down the river and see elephants drinking and splashing about. In fact, we had lunch with about 40 elephants. Here we were happily preparing lunch and napping on the river bank when a row of elephants wandered through. We got a thorough checking out and then on they went. About two seconds later, another group came wandering through, checked us out and kept going. This went on for about 30 minutes and we all just stood there thinking, aren’t these guys a little too close? It was especially freaky when a couple big guys (or gals) stopped, looked, flapped their ears forward and took a step in our direction. Hmmmm, run into the water and brave the crocs and hippos or brave the elephant? Not sure which is the better choice…however, they kept going and all splashed off into the water and across the channel to the other side. It was quite a site watching 40 elephants climb down the banks and then wade across, their bodies gleaming.

At night we camped on the islands in the center of the river and listened to the hippos call back and forth to each other. They sound like they are right on top of you even though they are way down river. They grunted at us during the day as well, especially if we got a little too close. Maybe they are just laughing at us for being silly and canoeing down the river when it is so much nicer just to laze about in the river.

FREE FALL DOWN A GORGE 70 METERS? ARE YOU CRAZY?

In Vic Falls now after having a successful canoe trip with all limbs intact and Claudie fixed and ready to go again. We are here for a few days and a bit of adrenaline as they offer all sorts of crazy blood pumping activities. I am opting to do the rafting (have to see which one is better – the Nile or the Zambezi) and just did the Gorge Swing. I still can’t believe that just this morning I was jumping off of a 120 meter cliff down a gorge just below Victoria Falls with nothing but a couple of climbing harnesses on and two climbing ropes attached to me (70 meters is free fall). In fact, I did it three times and every time I screamed like you would not believe. On the first one I did a hand stand off, the second one I just jumped (called a pin drop) and the third one I decided to go off backwards. Falling off backwards was definitely the hardest one to start off with as you don’t trust just falling back off a ledge but the front forward really got me to let out a blood curdling scream. About ¾ of the way down you start to think (OK well you aren’t really thinking but your body sure as hell reacts) that the rope hasn’t caught yet and you are falling straight down into some nice big black rocks with no hope of even trying to hit the water (not that that would be much better if you did hit the water). I started off with a nice yell and as I kept falling and falling and falling my scream got more and more panicked, then the rope caught and I swung out over the water laughing and screaming “that was amazing!” And, it truly was. I think now I am ok with the sensation and won’t need to add a bungy jump or any other nutty fall to my list of activities, although some of my group swears they are going to get me sky diving in Namibia over the desert. It was fun watching the people jump as well, especially their facial expressions. They would start off with a look of absolute horror and within a couple of seconds (it was on 4 seconds to the bottom) be laughing and smiling and screaming with joy. There was lots of whooping and quite a few “Oh Shits” as people went crashing down.

The backward one was definitely my favourite as you get a better swing out of it at the end. All in all a fantastic morning and I am ready for a nap – too much excitement for my poor little body!

Tomorrow I am off for the rafting – something like 23 rapids of class 4 & 5. Should be a good day!

DINNER WITH MEL GIBSON AND JULIUS CEASAR

2006-10-24T04:21:00.000-07:00

Never thought you would hear that combination eh? Yes, in fact we did have dinner with Julius Caesar and his brother (cousin maybe) Mel Gibson. Apparently it is quite the fashion here to acquire a change of names and go with something, well, something…not sure if they really know what they have chosen as their statement name but they had quite a range. In the past four days I have met – Donald Duck, Dodgy Geeser, Sweet Talker, Fabulous Thief, Giraffe, Superman, Puff Daddy and many many more – not forgetting Julius and Mel. We did in fact have dinner at Mel’s house…not sure if Julius was there or not as we were eating by gas ship lantern type things out under the stars. It was a very basic meal of beans, rice, spinach/kale stuff, sweet potato soup and some sort of meat thing, which I passed off to one of the men on the truck, who was very happy to have it an obviously not as picky as I was. I couldn’t quite figure out what it was and it was sort of all attached together with other stuff that was also unidentifiable. Guess I reverted to my old ways for a moment – where is mom to cut my meat when I need her!

The night before that – Oh, we are at Lake Malawi in Malawi – we had a pig roast with one of the other trucks AND a bad taste dress party. My friend Jules decided it would be fun to dress me in a fairly godmother type outfit. It was a lovely shade of pint with gold lace sleeves and a gold cape to match. Can’t beat that now can you? In fact, it was in quite good taste for a Halloween costume but incredibly hot for a lakeside beach resort. The one bonus was that it kept all the midges (very small incredibly pesky flies) off of my arms. Didn’t help much with the face and hair but it was a small reprieve. Pig was a little bland but still fun as it was fresh slaughtered that morning and we (well not me) put it on the spits and spent the day turning it. Neeta and I conjured up some apple sauce to go with it so that was fun and it even turned out really tasty.

Lake Malawi is absolutely gorgeous. It is hard to believe you are sitting on a lake with its wide beaches and lapping waves. The color is a deep blue greed and just beautiful. One draw back is that it has bilharzia, a tiny worm that lives in snails in the reeds that digests itself into your skin and ultimately can do some un-repairable damage to your internal organs. It supposedly wasn’t in the area we were in but I wasn’t going to risk it. A few others did and we will have to see. Regardless it was a lovely place. Got some walks down the beach in to the local fishing village and us Mzungu challenged the locals to a soccer match on the beach for one of the evening’s activities. The match was great and I am happy to say that I can still play soccer. At first the guys on the other team were apologizing to me but then they realized us four girls that were playing were actually quite tough and did not need apologizing too – thus, out came the grabbing. We held our own though and actually won the game two to one. Go Mzungu!

So basically, as you can see, I have been sitting on beached and doing lots of relaxing the past week or so. We are now heading into Zambia to another game park where we will get in a couple of night drives…can’t wait!

All my love, Steph

ZANZILAND

2006-10-24T04:15:00.000-07:00

After a hard days drive, a couple hours in the less than exciting and horribly dingy town of Dar, we jumped on the ferry out to Zanzibar, the Spice Island, where we settled in for a few days of complete R&R on the beautiful white sand beaches. Of course we did do a bit of an educational piece and went for a tour of the spice plantations as well as a quick stop at the old slave market. The fruit on the island is absolutely amazing and for lunch we devoured fresh picked and cut pineapple, jackfruit, oranges and coconut. Amazing the way they cut it with HUGE knives and barely miss their wrists. We were all nervous for them until they handed us the fruit and then we couldn’t stop asking them for more.

Beaches are absolutely gorgeous here and the Curio (tourist) Shop sales guys weren’t too overbearing either. Broke down and got a Henna done just for fun and well, cause I was sitting on the beach just having a cocktail anyway so, hell, why not! Spent one day just walking on the beach, playing in the water, reading and relaxing and the other day about 10 of us went out diving. We went out to a little island on the North East side of Zanzibar (the name fails me at the moment). Water was lovely, coral amazing and the fishies weren’t all that bad either J Saw a green turtle, loads of massive starfish, grouper etc. etc. etc. My favorite was the thing that looked like bad pale pink and off green parlor paper. Think it was a piece of coral. The third day was more of the same – relaxing and completely enjoying ourselves and then it was time to head back to reality and two days of driving to reach the shores of Lake Malawi.

WHAT IS FOR LUNCH?

2006-10-11T07:27:00.000-07:00

Well, if I were a lion, I’d be having gazelle, wildebeast or buffalo, as a hyena, whatever I could find but buffalo seems to be the main option, and as the Leopard, I think I’d just climb up a tree with my tasty treat – preferably the gazelle. I think that pretty much describes the lunch menu I have seen in the past few days.

We just left the Serengeti where we had some great wildlife viewing. The Leopard was probably the most spectacular. We got lucky enough to arrive when he had come down the tree to take a pee or get some water or something so followed him along the side of the road and down to his tree. It is anazing how beautiful and graceful (and undisturbed by all the jeeps) that animal is. He sauntered slowly across the road, glanced about just for good show, then leapt up the side of the tree, hopped about up to the highest branch and then began munching on his latest feast. It was phenomenal, disgusting, fascinating and beautiful all at once. The sound effects were quite spectacular as well. Jules and I were sitting on the roof seats watching through our binoculars and constantly exclaiming “ugh, did you hear that? Oh, what was that?” then back up with the binocs, then “I think that might be the back bone, hmmm, maybe the skull?” then back up with the binocs. It sounds quite morbid and sick to admit having sat there and watched it all but so amazing and fascinating.

The lion we saw was equally impressive, although the brush was quite thick and we all thought poor Mr. Lion had a limp and was not doing too well. He had no lady friends around to help him hunt and just seemed to be wandering aimlessly. Well, so much for that, after a minute or so of wandering, he pounced and up he came with a gazelle. I think it was a fake out on his part…the poor sick lion trick, you know the one. Either that or the gazelle hadn’t quite woken up yet and was happily sitting there thinking, “no one can see me, I am hidden in the tall grass and completely invisible”. Oops, not quite! Out came the lion with breakfast in his mouth and then he proceeded to walk proudly across the road showing off his kill to us.

On the happier note, we have seen tons of fat hippos lazing about (and rolling over - quite a feat!) in big pools of water, elephants galore roaming huge vast open plains with amazing blue skies behind them (perfectly offset by the golden grass of the Serengeti), zebras happily dancing about and, my personal favorite, giraffes, blinking in confusion at our truck as we pass by and then placidly returning to their munching of acacia leaves. All beautiful in their own right (even the hyenas, which seem to be getting more and more prevalent as we move to the different parks).

Bathrooms continue to be, hmm, interesting shall I say? Surprisingly enough, when we bush camped in the Serengeti, we had semi-flush toilets (had to bring your own water for the flushing) but did not have showers. Maybe that explains the Hyenas that continued to come into the camp each night and sniff around out tents. Two of them were even so bold as to walk up while a couple people were still up and sitting around the fire. That’ll get you to the truck right quick. Figure we were so minging (British term for nasty, smelly, yucky) that they thought we were a nice ripe kill. Can’t tell you how fantastic the show this morning felt after three days without one…when we got back to a camp with showers it was mass chaos on who could get there first. We ended up with settling for putting our toiletries in line for the shower and going off to do other things like put up the tents, help get dinner going, have a beer and chat, the usual evening activities.

We did get a nice break in the bush though with some sundowners at the closest lodge. Beatiful sunsets over the plains with a nice crisp, cold bottle of S.African wine in hand. Does the soul good to feel civilized for a brief moment. That is not to say that it is bad being in the bush, but a sink and a western style toilet, along with running water in general is a really nice thing!

Now in Arusha – just left the Ngorongoro Crater (also beautiful and saw another attempted kill by the lions)– heading past Kilimanjaro, visit to a Maasai village and then on to Zanzibar. Then, four days of R&R and hopefully some great scuba diving.

SANDPAPER KISSES and WARRIOR ESCORTS

2006-10-02T11:53:00.000-07:00

Arrived in Nairobi today and really learned what Africa time was all about…there is a saying here that things move according to Africa time, which they do, and which means that people are never where they say they will be and that nothing at all happens on time. Thus far it has been a standard 10-15 minutes tardy but today, well, it seemed to get stretched a little bit more. Our taxi driver, who was to be back in 20 minutes, showed up about an hour later and when we called to inquire where he might be, he informed us that he had ‘stopped quickly in the store’ and was just 300 meters away - as if that was quite normal. I think it was the longest 300 meters ever as it still took him another ½ hour to arrive. We spent the day playing around going to the elephant orphanage, the giraffe sanctuary and the market. The baby elephants in the orphanage were absolutely adorable. The ran right out up to their bottles, downed three of them each, chased the keepers around begging and screaming for more then proceeded to roll in and dump each other in the mud, slip, slide and fall and execute head stands in the muddy pools as they learned how their feet worked and how to stand up. Just like little children playing in the sand box. After that, we went over to the giraffe sanctuary where we fed, petted and kissed the giraffes. They have the most amazingly long, disgusting black tongues that they stick out as they try to grab the little food pellet out of your mouth. It feels like someone has taken a wet piece of sandpaper and run it across your lips. Oh boy, how nice would a giraffe French kiss be? Think I have come as close to that as I want to. In addition, and for good measure, they leave behind a bit of gooey antiseptic saliva on your face. It is actually so that they can get by eating off the nasty thorn infested Acacia tree but apparently they feel the need to share the wealth elsewhere..

On our way to Nairobi we went through the Maasai Mara National Park. Amazing! The Maasai tribe is still very much around and available to sell you whatever trinket you might like as you enter the park. They are drenched with beads and bracelets and blankets and are ready to strip off any of it to make a buck. Our truck was swarmed. They are known for being quite the savvy business people as well though and take us foreigners with the deep pockets for everything we have got. There are still many of them our herding their cattle though, and they can be recognized by the bright red plaid or striped blankets wrapped around their chests and their spears. It is a beautiful site to see them dotting the land as you drive by, their long legs stretching out as they run after, or stroll in many a case, their cattle. Several of them guarded our camp at night ‘just in case’, which made us feel oh so comfortable (hah! Hmmm, guess that means lions are around) and, of course, inspired the need in the middle of the night to go for a pee. This meant leaning out of the tent with the torch, flagging down one of the warriors, who promptly appeared torch in one hand and spear in the other to escort you to the bathroom. He then patiently waited a discreet distance away and walked you back. Very odd feeling at 3:00 in the morning to be walking next to a man whose body melted into the night sky wearing a red robe and carrying a lion spear. Did make me wonder that if in fact a lion did appear, would he actually be able to use the spear and kill it or would he use those nice strong, long legs to leave me for kitty food.

The park was great and we saw almost everything we wanted to – still missing the leopard, cheetah and rhino but think I will probably have a pretty good shot at the leopard and rhino in the next couple of weeks. We will see. We had numerous lion sightings with them in various activities. Saw them stalking and attempting to catch a wildebeest, playing in a little oasis next to a stream, sleeping all over and anywhere and guarding their most recent kill. Also saw plenty of giraffe, elephants, zebra, wildebeest, topi, and impala - the usual suspects. The highlight for me though was the balloon sunrise ride over the Mara. It was incredible to see the animals from above and watch the wildebeest stream across the plains in their migration. Watched a pack of hyenas finish their kill and then go on the hunt again and finished off our ‘float’ with a pack of lions. It didn’t hurt that we had a beautiful sunrise, incredibly clear day, a full hour and 20 minutes in the balloon and a delicious champagne breakfast at the end. The party was almost crashed by a stray wildebeest, who apparently was quite excited about the yummy smells. However, he was quickly headed off by a much larger beast, a Land Rover. So, after that, we headed to Nairobi, which is where I am now. Tomorrow morning it is off to Lake Naivasha (sp) where we will apparently be surrounded by hippos and other animals (in the camp that is). In a previous trip to this camp, a hippo tripped over one of the tent pegs and fell onto a girl in the tent. She was OK but quite heavily bruised. Hope one of those guys doesn’t feel the need to come share my tent!

TAKE A SPIN IN THE NILE MACHINE AND COME OUT CLEAN!

2006-09-27T09:37:00.000-07:00

In Jinja now (Uganda) and getting ready to go to the Maasi Mara. Claudia is now mostly recovered. She did revolt one more time and decide that she just didn’t want to go into grears anymore. Lucy and Jase were able to fix the problem pretty quick but still we had a 15 hour day between. She just got her big overhaul so should be find for our next trek to the Maasai Mara tomorrow morning. Hopefully we are getting all this out of the way now and she will be in good shape for the rest of my trip.

Rafted the Nile yesterday – AMAZING!!!!! Huge water but ever so fun. I think the guide’s goal is to flip us as many times as they can, although our guide only managed once. It was a great day. Water was warm, sun was out, people were great and the rapids were soooo very much fun. Just massive. Another big bonus was all that dirt that was still stuck in my toenails (don’t think I have ever needed to clean under my toenails before) washed right out as I got tumbled through the rapids. I think my clothes even got a better cleaning in the river than they had in the buckets and soap we have been using. Showers in our camp are cold but have a great view out over the Nile. They only have three walls so open up completely and look through the trees to the river. Absolutely gorgeous. Tonight we will all relax at the camp and have a BBQ and most likely a few more beers. I think I have settled on Nile Special as my favorite. Seems to have a little more taste than the others.

The photo is out of the bar area in our camp ground and that is the nile behind me.

and on we go....

2006-09-27T09:27:00.000-07:00

Went to the North part of Queen Elizabeth park and stayed in a lovely camp ground complete with hippos and hyenas. No, really, they were wandering all over the place. It was on the Kazinga Channel. It was surprising we got there though as the roads were all mud and sand and had huge ruts and basically we drove down the side of it almost tipping over and as soon as we got out of one side, we fishtailed over to the other side and slammed against it, then drove that ditch for a while and back across. Our drive said it was the most scared she had ever been driving.

Had a nice boat safari down the channel where we saw huge amounts loads of hippos, water buffalos, crocs and some amazing birds. Even saw a pink hippo – no really. He was an albino and quite cute. After that, we invaded the five star safari lodge at the top of the hill and had a few beers while watching the sun set over the channel. At night, after a fantastic Kenyan meal made by our chef, we headed off to the local bar for a few cheap beers (vs the ones at the lodge) and some pool. Very surreal coming out of the bar when it was dark with only a headlamp on and a giant hippo walking down the road. Made me wonder what they put in the drink but very cool to see. However, those adorable little creatures can apparently be quite nasty (number one threat to the local fishermen) so we stayed clear and let the hippo walk on by before heading into the road ourselves.

BLOW OUTS and BOGG DOWNS

2006-09-27T07:39:00.002-07:00

It has been an eventful few days for our lovely little Claudia (Truck), we have run her through the paces and she finally gave up and said she needed a rest. After the Gorillas, we went back to Lake Bunyonyi for a night of R&R – although we didn’t get much time for that as we got in around 4:00. The lake is absolutely gorgeous. I took a quick walk around part of it with Aaron (another traveler on the truck). It would have been quite peaceful but for the throngs of children who decided to join us on our walk and talk incessantly and say nice things like “give me your watch”. They are all asking for money but also tend to just simply ask for a pen or pencil and notebook so that they can use it for school. They are quite poor but still seem to smile all of the time and wave enthusiastically at us as we pass by.

After Lake Bunyonyi we got an early start (5:30am for me as I was on cook assist duty) and headed to Queen Elizabeth II National Park. It was a long drive but when we arrived at our secluded campsite, we were rewarded with several hippos bathing themselves in the stream on the side of the campground and baboons playing in the trees and running around the campsite. It was a beautiful spot and had one of the most architecturally interesting loos that I have ever seen. It was a spiral shape and once around into the center of the spiral there was a flat piece of wood stuck to a stick. Lift up the stick and well, there was your long drop. Oddly enough it was one of the more pleasant bathrooms we have had on the trip.

We arranged for a safari in the late afternoon evening so see the tree climbing lions – Godfrey was to be our guide. Lovely idea until about 20 minutes in, we hit a massive stump on the side of the road and tore a huge hole in the side of our tire. We all piled out and baked in the sun while Lucy and Jase changed the tire. Our guide, being ever cautious (Hah!) wandered around with his rifle as if a lion was just going to wander on up. I really don’t think that the tree-climbing lion does exist…or really that Godfrey had any clue what he was looking for or doing. He spent the entire time chatting and looking around. Although, we did see thousands of Ugandan Kob, very beautiful but like pigeons of the park – EVERYWHERE! Also saw quite a few water buffalo, topi and thousands of birds. The park is apparently home to over 600 types of birds.

So to finish our day, Claudia (truck) decided she wanted to get a mud bath and politely stopped herself in the middle of a bog. This resulted in around 3 hours of us squishing about in mud in the dark, swatting at mosquitoes and trying as hard as we could to find sticks and shrubs without stepping on the acacia thorns that appeared to be in such abundance. We did ultimately get her out with a tow truck and then were happily on our way back to the campground for a 9:00pm arrival. Very long day but the group is good and we all came together as a team. Mostly, I think, we were happy to wash our feet before we went to bed.

BLOW OUTS and BOGG DOWNS

2006-09-27T07:39:00.000-07:00

MZUNGU IN THE MIST (or gorillas, really)

2006-09-21T03:25:00.000-07:00

MZUNGU = White person, which is what they call us around here (but not in a negative way).

Crossed the equator the other day and into Rwanda. Went through Kilgari, the capital, and then on to Ruhengeri, which is where we are now. Yesterday we did the treck up to see the gorillas. Got up at 5:00, had a quick bite, then hopped in a little taxi/bus and off we went. Met our guide at the base of the hill and off we went on our treck up the side of the hill and through the brush. First part was mostly a wet overgrown, jungle trail but when we reached the ridge and saw the gorillas for the first time (on the other side of a ravine), the guides broke out the machetes and began to do some serious bush whacking. We rapelled down a steep slope on a vine (no, I am not kidding) and literally cut away roots and bushes to make our trail and even then still had to climb under, over and around all sorts of other things that clogged our way. Needless to say our asses were all quite black by the time we came out on the other side where the gorillas were. I think we saw about 8 of them: a silverback, three babies and the mother gorillas. The babies were crawling all over each other and hitting each other and tumbling down the hill. Think the highlight was being charged by the silverback. Think I almost had heart failure as I was about three feet from him. Of course, I was cowering in the bushes trying to blend in and the guides were telling us to stand back up. I wasn’t too keen on standing up while three feet from a massive gorilla who was staring at me.

It was amazing to be so close to them. They were literally walking around us and popping up out of nowhere, just strolling through. I cannot describe how magical it was to be up there.

On the way back, out truck broke down, actually we found out later that it ran out of gas. Apparently something that is quite common around here. A bunch of kids pushed until we could get to a hill and the driver could get the car back to town. Meanwhile us muzungu got packed into a small flatbed truck and jostled down the bumpy road back to town. Finished the day with several primus beers and lots of laughs and amazement at the day we just had.
Tomorrow we are off to Queen Elizabeth NP, which also should be quite spectacular

For Cheap Dental Work, Come to Kampala

2006-09-17T06:42:00.000-07:00

Well, I have arrived - in Uganda that is. Luggage also arrived (intact), however my tooth did not. An old filling decided that it was time to give in. Fortunately, I managed to meet just the people to help me fix the problem. Patrick, a guy doing research in a small city near by Kampala and his friend, Craig, got a reference for me. Then Suzanna appeared out of nowhere for breakfast and low and behold, she was a dentist (she was also on the same trip as me!). She took a quick look with the ever handy flashlight and determined that I probably should do something about it given the length of my trip. That led us all to Dr. Tom at the Pan Dental Clinic. Quite a vivacious man who flirted terribly with us and made jokes about drilling the wrong tooth or possibly extracting one he shouldn't (Suzanna offered to come with and make sure things went well). Dr. Tom also happened to have studied at the same place in England as Suzanna and under a teacher she knew quite well and who was highly respected. The outcome being that I got a nice white filling for $50 and an unforgettable experience in a detal chair - a bargain by any account. Funny how you can meet just the right people at just the right times!

Two hours latter Suzanna, Patrick, Craig and I settled in for a Ungandan meal of Krest (bitter lemon drink), Matoke (mashed cooked plantains), Maharagwe (bean) and goat meat. Can't beat that now can you! Then we wandered through the old taxi park - an insaine mess off minibuses, "matatu", people selling flourescent mosquito nets and all sorts of other wares. One man had a nice collection of goodies: framed picture of a rose with "I Love You" written on it, a battery powered fly swatter, a TV remote and a pair of shoes. Guess they can actually sell the stuff as there are enough of them doing it. How we found the right matatu I am not quite sure but we did. Stopped quickly for a "Maize" treat on the way (corn grilled over an open flame and, well, hard as a rock - good jaw workout) and then relaxed in the pleasant bar oasis of the hostel. Finished the day with a phenomenal Chicken Tika Masala and several beers in the local Irish pub - Bubbles O'Leary.

This morning (Sunday), met the rest of my Drago group and we boarded our beast of a truck. Claudia is her name and she is quite the machine with the drive train of a cement truck and tires that look like they are from a tractor (hopefully I'll be able to post pictures soon). Think she is a bit out of sorts at the moment as Lucy and Jase (our fearless leaders/guides) have taken her off to get a tire replaced, and rumour has it, a clutch that won't cooperate. Thus, the rest of us, have been left to our own devices at the moment, which means tents are up, beers are in hand, internet, chatting and getting to know the 14 other people on the trip and otherwise having a lovely relaxing afternoon before heading out tomorrow for Lake Bunyonyi. Current schedule is to overnight there, then head off to see the Gorillas in Rwanda.

Off for another Club (local beer), unfortunately not quite as tasty as the local brews in the US but I imagine I'll survive), especially at the bargain price of $1.35.

almost there

2006-09-15T11:35:00.000-07:00

think i am broke after london with that horrible exchange rate, however the pints are still tasty and that makes up for a lot. transfering in nairobi now and almost to my final destination (uganda) after over 48 hours of travel. i am thankful for having been able to upgrade to business. people here, thus far, are incredibly nice although i am wondering if my bags will make it to kampala. i had about 8 people bounce me from desk to desk not really sure how to get my bags transferred from swiss air to air kenya. while all very helpful and nice, each person seemed to have a different solution to the problem and ultimately my bags were left on the floor of the baggage claim area with a little blue sticker and a hand written note, EBB, as the final destination. we will see what happens when i land. speaking of, i am off to my flight now.