African Finale

WOW, the last couple of months have really brought my African travels to a surprising yet awesome end.  Between Madagascar and Ethiopia I’ve been blown away at how cool these two places are.  I’d go so far as to say they are my 2 favorites.  When I say this, I am considering the whole of each country and not just specific landmarks or sites within them.  Because if I ranked my favorite sites, the list would look a bit different. 

Having said that I am feeling guilty that Rwanda, Tanzania, Malawi, Namibia, Uganda, Kenya, Mozambique and South Africa (in no particular order) got bumped down.  And of course Swaziland, Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe and Lesotho are feeling like the kid that always got picked last in gym class.  

To be fair, Madagascar doesn’t really consider itself part of Africa, and Ethiopia -- as far as sub-Saharan Africa goes -- is so un-African that I can’t really count it in my “favorite African countries” list.  Moreover, I honestly didn’t max out my travels throughout Botswana, Lesotho, Zim and Zam like I did the other places so they are naturally going to get the shaft.

I didn’t intend for this blog to be a ranking of any kind, but I’ve obviously started spiraling, so I might as well finish it off.  So, yeah, leaving Maddy and Ethio out of it for now, the standouts for me have been, in order of visitation: Rwanda (gorillas, people, history), Tanzania (wildlife, Zanzibar), Malawi (nature, landscapes), Namibia (adventure activities, deserts), South Africa (ease of travel, people, nature), Mozambique (culture, sea-life).

I just realized that I should put South Africa off on it’s own, too.  It’s been so heavily colonized and influenced by the West that it doesn’t seem fair to put it in with the others.  No offense to SA and I’m not saying you are un-African, but let’s face it, you are a bit of an anomaly within the continent.  Of course I am saying this after having been to all the touristified towns along the coast and somewhat inland…

So there.  I’ve played favorites.  Moving on.

Madagascar.  Talk about one of the most amazing places on the planet.  Hot damn I would love to spend a couple months on a bicycle riding across its length from North to South and East to West. Upon arrival I was completely shocked as I was transported to some hybrid Africa/Southeast Asia/India type of place.  As it turns out, the whole country is incredibly diverse in every sense of the word. The variety of cultures and landscapes as well as the fact that a huge percentage of its flora & fauna (upwards of 80% if I had to guess) are endemic make it one of the most unique places on Earth.  It is actually like a mini-Earth smashed into one island.   Madagascar is one of maybe (maybe) 3 places I’ve ever been that I’d consider visiting a second time.  I like to try new things, but with Maddy, anywhere you go will be completely new.   I could go on forever, but I’m in Ethiopia now and must ramble on about that for a while...

Ethiopia.  Wow.  I am so glad I changed my plans to visit this place.  If you asked me my thoughts on Ethiopia before coming here, I’d probably describe it as a famine-wracked desert wasteland.   Which could not be farther from the truth.

The first time I thought that this could be a cool place to visit was when I took a flight on Ethiopian Airlines with a layover in Addis Ababa.  Although I was a bit unsure about my safety in a place called Addis Ababa (the name alone sounded intimidating but I’ve come to learn it means “new flower” and who can honestly be scared of flowers, new or old?), my impressions were completely changed when I encountered the model-esque stewardesses, quality airplane food, beautiful, mountainous landscape below as we came in for our landing, bright, clean, orderly international airport terminal and some of the most friendly and helpful airport employees.  

Ok, fine, how much does 1 airline and 1 airport reflect an entire country?  Close to zero, but I figured if they take this much care with regard to their air travel they must be doing some other things right, too.  So I thought, “huh. This seems like a it could be a cool place.  I might have to look into it someday.”  Not until I met a handful of other travelers who visited and raved about Ethiopia did I decide to add it to my destination list.

And what a great decision!

This place is really cool. I have spent about a week in the south and 2 weeks in the north with some time in Addis scattered throughout. All are completely different worlds, I tell you.  Southern Ethiopia is home of some of the most ethnically rich African tribal cultures you can imagine.  The image you’d conjure up in your mind is exactly what you’d find in the Omo valley.  The fact that this region falls within the borders of Ethiopia seems incongruous to the rest of the country being that South Omo is SO very African and the rest of Ethiopia is so very UN-African.  Or shall I elaborate by saying sub-Saharan African in both cases. 

Then you have Addis Ababa.  The city of Addis itself is one of the most advanced, diverse and variety-laden cities I’ve ever visited.  Restaurants, cafes, shops, malls, museums, markets etc.  There is a lot to do & see and Ethiopian food is delicious.  Moreso they even have proper hamburgers and (gasp) Mexican food restaurants!  Not only that, but the coffee here is probably the best in the world.  Not that I’m in any position to rate coffee as I only became a coffee-drinker since being on this trip, but I can definitely tell the quality of the stuff here is excellent.  Mmmm the macchiatos especially.  Coffee is a huge deal here.

Addis is truly a cosmopolitan city and rivals many cities in the US, even.  At least according to me, but I’ve been traveling for a while so my perspective is different.  Coming straight off the boat, you’d probably have to work through some culture shock before really appreciating the city through the eyes of someone who’s used to it.

Once again I have found wonderful Couchsurfing hosts in the form of an Ethiopian/Belgian couple who have so graciously let me use their pad in Addis as a home-base as I travel between the South and North.   I’ve had a blast hanging out with them and their friends, too, between dinner get-togethers and hilarity-ensuing game nights. 

Outside of Addis, the southern region almost seems like a fantastical place.  Meaning it’s hard to believe people still live like this in 2011.  It’s wild.  And inspiring to see that such rich traditions and tribal life have survived all the years of Western conquerization…ahem…colonization.

Overall, there are said to be over 2-dozen tribes in the Omo region, numbering anywhere between tens of thousands to as few as 500 identifying with each.  Of these, the main tribes and the ones we visited with are the Hamer, Banna, Mursi and Karo tribes.  The Mursi are the most famous by way of their body-adornment in the form of elaborate scarification and eccentric lip-plates.   The Karo are known for body-painting and the Hamar and Banna tribes for their colorful fashions and hairstyles.  Each tribe’s traditions are striking and unique in their own ways.

We (I traveled to the south with a couple I met through my CS hosts in Addis) also ended up being so lucky to be invited to a bull-jumping ceremony, a rite-of-passage for young Hamer and Banna boys in becoming men.  After a ridiculously rough off-the-beaten-path off-any-kind-of-path-whatsoever-and-into-complete-desolate-African-bushland drive including a moderate run-in with an angry bee swarm and picking up a Banna guy we came across to show us the way, we ended up ditching the car and following the sounds of drumbeats, jangling bells and celebratory singing until we came across the location of the ceremony.  Being the only 3 faranjis in the general vicinity, we really felt like we were witnessing a special event.  Which we were.  At one point the group of 20-odd women swallowed me up into their chanting, hollering, jingling, dancing mass in which I had no choice but to happily and awkwardly join in. 

They even posed me in a ridiculous photo alongside them holding someone’s un-loaded rifle from who-knows-where.  I enjoyed seeing them use me as a novelty item and as their entertainment.  At least this way it felt a bit more even-ended since the whole “tribal tourism” thing feels a bit weird to me.   On the one hand I feel as though such tourism rots the culture insofar as many tribes will play dress-up for the tourists and the whole demanding money for photos thing leaves a bad taste for both parties…but on the other hand, tourism is a way to sustain such traditional tribal cultures as national and international homogenization come banging down their doors…err…come shaking their huts, rather. 

After a mind-boggling week in the south, I popped back into Addis for a bit before shooting up north to hit up the historic and former capital cities of Axum, Lalibela and Gonder. 

Axum
Axum was a major player in terms of the world’s most influential ancient kingdoms and was the regional ruler from about 400BC into the 10th century.  There’s a ton of history here, but much of it is shrouded in mystery. One of its claims to fame include the Ethiopian Orthodox belief that the Ark of the Covenant resides in one of the town’s churches.  There’s a whole story behind how it got there involving the Queen of Sheba’s love tryst with King Solomon and their son Melenik’s transportation of the Ark to Ethiopia with help of divine intervention.

Separately, there are numerous other notable sights including stelae fields indicating the location of ancient tombs housing potential remains of kings and their treasures.  Many have yet to be uncovered and excavated. 

Lalibela
My favorite place so far in Ethiopia.  A very holy place as the population is almost entirely Ethiopian Orthodox Christian.  King Lalibela ruled in the 13th century and set out through, you guessed it, divine intervention, to make the town into a “new Jerusalem”.  Eventually he, with help from angels (and probably a lot of silent human partners), carved 13 churches straight into the ground.  Of these, some are monolithic, meaning are detached from the earth on all 4 sides, and some are semi-monolithic, with at least 1 side attached.  In all cases, the churches are some of the most impressive historical sites I’ve ever seen.  It was humbling to stand in and outside of these works of art knowing what kind of pre-planning, manpower and flawless execution had to have taken place to create such structures. 

We were even lucky enough to witness the celebration of St. George’s Day at, IMO, the most beautiful church in Lalibela, Bet Giyorgis.  We woke up at the crack of dawn to join in with hundreds of robed pilgrims (well, local ones, anyway) in their at first silent and then escalating hum, building into a trumpeting, chanting, singing praise.  It was so cool to have been there to witness such an event.  Now, we all know I’m not religious, but this was definitely moving.  Not to the point of moving me any closer to organized religion in any way, shape or form, but I can appreciate the traditions and beauty in something like this.

 Gonder
Last up, I stopped into Gonder, the former imperial capital of the 16th-20th centuries.  Here I found the ancient ruins of former kings castles.  The Royal Enclosure being a highlight in which there are a number of castles, palaces, banquet halls, saunas, lions dens, libraries and churches, all of which were overseen by a series of emperors.  Who knew Ethiopia housed such stereotypically European medieval structures.  They were, however, heavily influenced by the Portuguese at the outset.

Gonder is also in relatively close proximity to the Simien Mountains to which I popped in for a quick trip.  Quick being a relative term in that the road leading there is on annoyingly rough and dusty roads, so any journey feels like it takes forever.  The mountains themselves are stunning.  Not only that, but they are home to the endemic Gelada baboon, which is an odd creature that looks like it is the product of mixing the DNA of a baboon and lion into a blender.  Weirder still is that they are 100% vegetarian and graze on the local grasses by sitting around and ripping out handfuls of the stuff and shoving it into their mouths.  Moreover, they make the most appalling girly wheezing noises I’ve ever heard come out of a monkey that size.  I was caught off guard and couldn’t help but laugh at how absurd it sounded. 

Though I wish I could have spent a week’s worth of exploring more of the Simien range, I had to get back to Addis to physically and mentally prep for my departure from Africa. 

So here I am, back in the capital with only 2 full days left on this continent before I head to Asia.   How CRAZY is THAT???!!  I’m already freakin’!!

Sheesh, I've really been going nuts with the long blog entries lately, huh? I’m even sick of hearing myself talk…I can’t imagine what it’s like for whoever is reading this rambling rubbish. 

Coming Full Circle

(Written a week ago during my layover in Nairobi)

I find myself back in Nairobi having come full circle since the start of my trip 7.5 months ago. As I think back to when I first arrived, it is really funny to compare my state-of-mind now vs. then.

Man, talk about being nervous when I first set foot in Africa. I didn’t really know what it would be like but I was hoping all of the bad press I had heard about the place would just be your standard fear mongering. Even still, the fact that I was totally on my own and on the brink of a huge life undertaking was a daunting feeling. Walking to baggage claim was when I had the distinct “holy shit, this is it” feeling. There was no period of time when I was waiting for everything to sink in. It was immediate.

I won’t ever forget the entire series of events. Nearly missing my flight despite a 6-hour layover in London, my conversation with a Kenyan guy on the flight, the pilot alerting the passengers to a herd of giraffe upon our approach, walking past scattered men sleeping on prayer mats in the various prayer rooms at the airport, receiving my first African visa, fumbling around with my bags while cursing myself for packing too much, awing at the throngs of people walking along the streets on my way to my guesthouse, making mental comparisons of African things to things from home, the warm welcoming I received at my guesthouse and finally crashing into my bed to let my brain soak up and sort through all of the new information it was receiving. It was a lot to take in.

Now that I’m back, I find nothing to be really new or surprising. Well, except for maybe the lady blowing snot rockets into the sink in the bathroom. That was a new one. Anyway, I’m still fully aware that everything around me is very different from home but I’m used to it all now. Cows, goats, chickens, pigs, etc lining the streets? Hole-in-the-ground toilets? Bucket showers? Minibuses overflowing with people? Kids waving, yelling and swarming around me? Navigating jagged sidewalks amongst ladies with water jugs on their heads, vendors shoving things in my face, beggars crawling on their hands and vehicles careening around corners? Ending each day rinsing my dirt tan down the drain? Pfff no sweat. Bring it on. It’s funny how much my perspective has changed. Now that I’m officially seasoned I see, appreciate and interact with things here in a completely different way. It makes me a bit nervous about how I’ll view things when I get back home.

Anyway, I’m sitting here waiting on my flight to Ethiopia and slowly coming to terms with the fact that my time in Africa is more or less over. It’s a totally bittersweet feeling. Sweet in that there won’t be daily TIA* moments, but bitter in that it is these same TIA moments that invariably have led to some of the most memorable adventures I’ve had in life. They are what make Africa one of the toughest yet most memorable, interesting, inspiring, heart-breaking, heart-warming, amazing, mind-altering, lovely and life-changing places to travel.

So I have 3 weeks to go before I head to Asia. I’m off to Ethiopia for the remainder of my time in Africa where I expect much more Middle Eastern and Indian influences. It’s supposedly one of the most unique African countries in that it was never really colonized by the West so it has held on to most of its culture and traditions in a way many other African nations haven’t been able to. The food, music, time-keeping, calendar, language, alphabet, tribes and entire structure of the place is unique in its own right.

More on this later, gotta catch my flight. Here we go, Ethio!

*TIA = “This is Africa.” It is a term used regularly by travelers to explain away all of the ridiculous things that happen and stuff that doesn’t go your way. Examples: random power cuts, random water cuts, ferry brakedowns, cattle traffic-jams, sleeping donkey speedbumps, goat fights in the middle of the road, massive transportation delays, lady at the hotel wiping bed bugs & other creepy crawlies off the bed before looking at you like, “see, everything’s totally fine now”, getting super excited about a 3-page menu only to find out when you try to order that they only serve 2 things: rice or maize-meal, the ubiquitous public urination displays, cars driving around with loudspeakers strapped to the sides with a dude shouting about who-knows-what, something that sounds like midnight marching band practice, etc, etc, etc.

Swazi, Mozi, Rats & Bats

So here’s the deal - this frickin’ entry is a beast.  I am going against everything I promised myself that I wouldn’t do in keeping a blog: ramble on about meaningless travel stories for 5 pages.  How douchey.  Well, poo, because look at me now going all hypocrite and stuff.  So I have no expectations here in terms of readership, because at the very least I had fun writing and re-living it.   BUT, if you choose to read till the end, you’ll get a peek into what it’s like backpacking throughout Africa.  I don’t think I’ve really gone into much detail of my day-to-day experiences, instead focusing on major events.   If you don’t make it past this intro, just know that in general travel in Africa is 10% planning, 90% improvising.

Public Transport in Africa
The thing about independent travel in Africa is that it is difficult. Distances are long, rides are cramped and sweaty and there’s no official system.  You basically have 2 choices in regards to public transport: minibus taxis or long-distance buses. 

•Minibus Taxis
Remember that game you played in college where you tried to see how many people could physically cram themselves into a phonebooth?  Add some wheels, chickens, luggage, BO and a numb bum and you have yourself an African minibus experience.   They only leave when completely full, so the average waiting time is between 5 min-3 hours depending on who’s already there when you show up.  Although they have a set start and end point, they can make any number of stops in between.  People are constantly hopping on and off every kilometer or so.  You generally need to double or triple the estimated journey time when taking a minibus.  Also, I’ve come to learn that shin-guards would be a nice protective accessory for this type of transport.

•Long-Distance Buses
LDBs are basically Greyhounds minus AC, plus a mini-church sesh to set the bus on its holy way and African jams and/or Celine Dion blaring through the PA system.  My general rule of thumb is to opt for an LDB for any ride over 8 hours. 

Logistically speaking, no African bus companies have any kind of marketing budget and there are certainly no timetables dictating stops or schedule.  Hence, finding out how to get from A to B always involves a solid amount of detective work. 

Case in point: I needed to get from Durban (SA) to Maputo (Mozi), two large cities about 280 miles apart with a good road linking the two.  You’d figure finding a way between the two would be cake.  Wrong.  After some futile internet research and asking around I found out that the only way I could make the trip was by minibus.  A hot, sweaty, 10-hour journey jammed in with 20 of my new closest friends and chickens.   

Fortunately, somewhere along my way I met a South African guy whose son lives in Mozambique and frequently makes the trip to Durban on a long-distance bus.  Ok! Great!  So there IS an actual bus.  After a bit of goose-chasing, he tracked down the phone number for the bus company.  I called.  They (gasp) answered.  I booked myself on.  Heck yeah! 

Swazi
Knowing that the road between Durban and Maputo cuts through Swaziland, I figured I’d stop off there first to hang out for a few days before crossing into Mozambique.  Getting to Swaziland wasn’t going to be a problem; getting myself where I needed to be IN Swazi was.
“Do you cross Swaziland to get to Maputo?”
“Yes.”
“Do you make any stops while in Swaziland?”
“We stop at the border”
“Is there anywhere for me to hop off and catch another bus to Manzini?”
“We can drop you on the road that leads to Manzini.”

Flash forward 24 hours and there I was on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Swaziland watching my bus pull away and wondering if this was the best decision to have made.  Although this is a frequent question I’ve asked myself over the past 7 months of travel, so it was really nothing new. 

I looked around and saw some ladies sitting under shaded wooden stalls selling a handful of shriveled fruits and water in plastic bags.  I walked over to them and they immediately started giggling.  Sure, the sight of some white chick getting dumped out of a bus with a bunch of bags strapped to her back in 100 degree heat must have been a funny sight around those parts.  I parked myself alongside them and tried to make some small talk (mostly consisting of me smiling and them giggling) and played with the little toddler running around in his underpants.  One of the ladies spoke broken English and told me there should be a bus to Manzini coming soon.  Nice!  Since “soon” could be anywhere from now through early evening I prepared to settle in for a while.  Not a minute later she jumped to her feet, grabbed my daypack and started running like a madwoman.  Befuddled, I looked up having no idea what was happening to see this rickety old school bus barreling down the road towards us. 

“Come! You must come now! The bus is here!” she hollered back at me while in a panicked, wobbly shuffle trying to run while clutching my heavy daypack.  I threw my big pack on and followed suit.  I caught up with her in the middle of the dirt turnoff just as the bus came bursting through.  She yanked my pack off my back and gave it to the conductor to throw into the bus bowels and she insisted I board the bus immediately.  I can now understand her frenzy as the bus never really came to a complete stop before they launched my bags on board and I hurled myself through a cloud of dust and into the open doors. 

Upon arriving in Manzini, I shuddered once I caught a glimpse of the taxi rank.  It was the standard mess of small, medium and large buses creating a neverending maze through which passengers, loiterers and vendors shimmy their way.  Before getting off my bus, I asked where I could get transport to the Ezulwini Valley.  The conductor motioned for me to follow him and he escorted me through the hordes.  Once we found the right minibus, I jammed my luggage under and in front of my seat, giving me just enough room to squeeze myself in with my legs overflowing to the side.  After about an hour of shooing away the vendors asking, “Sissy, sissy, cold drink? Ice cream?” through my window, the minibus finally found its final passenger and we set off. 

Thirty minutes later and I again found myself getting dumped on the side of the road.  After aimlessly hiking around for a bit I eventually found my backpackers and by the expression on the guy’s face when I arrived, I probably looked like the hot, sweaty lovechild of Swamp Thing and a hobo.   But I made it. 

The next week in Swazi I did a bunch of bartering with the curio vendors at the market, visited the capital city of Mbabane, arranged for my Mozambique visa, toured an amazing Fair Trade organization and spent some time with a few new friends relaxing at the Royal Swazi Hotel pool.

My final night in Swazi the sky released its buildup of rain wrath on the earth and sent water gushing down uninterrupted for at least 18 hours straight, all the while making sure your pants were properly soiled after each massive thunder and lightening strike.

I was still camping at this point and although I knew my tent was only rated for “light drizzle,” I had confidence that I wasn’t going to wake up in a puddle of mud.  I was right about the mud part, but I spent most of the night curled up in the fetal position, freaked out about the thunder and trying to avoid the walls of my tent that were at this point fully soaked through and dripping rainwater inside.  And that officially marked my last night of camping. I ditched my tent before setting off again to catch a series of minibuses to Mozambique.

Mozi
After another full day of minibus travel with a watermelon rolling over my toes and the obligatory marriage proposals, cow offerings and my favorite game of “guess my age and marvel at my single & childless state of being”, I made it to the Mozambican capital city of Maputo and met up with my Couchsurfing host. 

I stayed with Lucas, a Brazilian expat who was transferred there for an international stint with his job.  His company hooked him up with a nice air conditioned apartment overlooking the Indian Ocean and a sweet 4x4 to drive around in.  We decided to put his 4x4 to the test on my birthday when we set off to Macaneta beach.

To get there, you drive about 1 hour north of Maputo before loading your car into a ferry, crossing a river and 4x4-ing it on a sandy, rutted road while dodging stubborn cow herds.  We spent a great afternoon on the beautiful, secluded beach and ate delicious guavas and cashews, both of which are grown locally and sold ridiculously cheap by street vendors and/or kids.

At around 4pm, we made our way back to the ferry where a massive line of cars had already formed.  We calculated that we’d be on the 3rd ferry, which would get us to the other side in about an hour and a half.  Our optimistic bubble was burst once we realized the ferry had broken down and we wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.  As the sun set and the moon rose, we could only imagine how long we’d be stuck waiting in vain for the ferry to reappear to take on a fresh load.  One guy capitalized on the situation and started charging people to row them in his canoe to the other side. 

We ended up teaming up with some other 4x4 drivers and began scheming ways out of this predicament.  One of the locals knew of a road that could get us around the river, but it would be on even rougher, sandier road and there was a chance we’d get stuck.  But his cousin just called and said it was ok.  Which brings me to another African rule of thumb:  if someone’s cousin says it’s ok, it’s definitely a good idea.  Knowing how things in Africa work - or don’t work, rather - we figured we’d have a better chance of escape by taking matters into our own hands than waiting on this ferry.  And hopefully we’d be back in time to do some evening birthdaying in Maputo.

We spent the next 2 hours in the equivalent of a washing machine on wheels, getting jostled and churned around in our seats. The guy leading the way was flying around the hairpin turns and careening over the shittiest road imaginable.   I doubt anyone had driven that way in a decade as the overgrowth on either side left barely enough wiggle-room for a car to pass unscathed.  This was true African bush.  If anything were to happen to the car here, you’d be completely screwed.  There were no towns, villages, or signs of life in general aside from the occasional flash of a human figure watching us pass from the side of the road that we were convinced must have been ghosts.

We didn’t make it back to Maputo until 10pm, a full 6 hours or so after having left the beach.  Determined to keep the ridiculousness alive, we cleaned up and hit the town for some more birthday celebrations, visiting a few bars and restaurants and meeting up with Lucas’ friends along the way.  It was probably one of my more memorable birthdays outside of that time I went to that live Double Dare show back in ’89.

Rats
After hanging with Lucas in Maputo for a few days, I decided it was time to head up the coast to do some of the famous diving in Tofo I kept hearing about.  After another bus journey and 8 hours of watching my bag get successfully trampled into a dirty, blue pancake as it resided in the aisle at the front of the bus and the only way people could get on/off was to step on it, I made it to Tofo and parked my stuff at Fatima’s Nest Backpackers.  I had heard of Fatima’s through the backpacker grapevine, and the consensus was that you’d either love it or hate it.  Honestly? The only saving grace for this place is its bar scene because outside of that the place is a legitimate dump.

I consulted with my new friend, Ema, from the bus ride up, to decide whether we felt like walking around to find another hostel.   We figured we’d stay a night and see how it went because all we wanted to do at that point was jump in the ocean. So we settled in and immediately a number of red flags went up.  Ominous warnings that we should have heeded.  The first one being the obvious dumpy state of the hostel, the second being an army of ants swarming around the stove area, and the third being conversations with other travelers warning about a mouse infestation.  Apparently people had woken up in the morning to find their backpacks, clothing, jewelry and soap chewed through by mice throughout the night.  Fan-frickin-tastic.  So off I went to fish out my soap and beaded necklaces and set them in the fridge - the safest place I could imagine putting them. 

At around 4am that morning, everything came to a head.  I woke up with a fright to Ema shaking my bed and calling my name.  She had run into my dorm after being completely traumatized by a dozen mice scurrying about her room.  There is no way I can describe with as much hilarity the situation she found herself in with these mice, but I will try my best.

She had been peacefully sleeping most of the night when the noise of a plastic bag rustling woke her up.  She shot up and listened to the mysterious noises for a while before realizing what she was hearing were these mice I had warned her about.  She remained prisoner in her bed for a solid 30 min before mustering up the courage to set her bare feet on the floor and run over to the light switch to see what was happening.  As soon as she flicked the light, she saw at least 7 giant mice frozen in place, all 14 beady eyes on her.  Not a second later they broke their silence and continued on scurrying about her room, climbing around the rafters and falling down onto the floor.  Sick.  She grabbed the sealed container of peanut butter sitting on the dresser, ran out the door and chucked it as far away into the darkness as she could while booking it over to my dorm.  And that’s when she shook me awake in a panic and in utter fear that the mice were going to touch her and bite her toes off.  Not an unreasonable fear by any means, but at 4am I honestly just brushed it off and tried to soothe her fears enough for her to go back to sleep.  “They won’t touch you, it’s going to be fine.  Just use your mosquito net as a shield. They aren’t going to get in.”

That next morning I woke up to holes in my jean shorts, laptop case and miscellaneous bags…all chewed up by these damn mice.  And there was Ema with a big, "I told you so" grin on her face.  Touché, touché.  

Being that I have a zero-tolerance policy to rodent infestations, I packed and trucked my ass down the road to move into Bamboozi backpackers, by far a much nicer and cheaper place to stay (I will say, though, that Fatima’s at least sympathized with us and gave refunds for our night’s stay.  So cheers to them for that).  Later that morning Ema joined me at Bamboozi and after a night or two of paranoia associated with any kind of rustling noise, we settled in nicely.  That is until the third night. 

Bats
So there we were doing a bit of reading before heading to sleep, Ema at the desk and me in my bed.  I kept absentmindedly noticing the lights flickering, but paid no attention to it.  Just as I realized the flickering was actually some sort of night-creature darting past the lights, Ema started shouting at me:
“Oh my God, bats! Cover your hair!! Cover your hair!”
“What? What? What? What the hell? Bats?! What? Why are they in here?”
“Cover your hair!!!”

We frantically sought shelter under our mosquito/bat nets simultaneously screaming and laughing our faces off.  Ema proceeded to warn me about some sort of membrane in bat’s feet that if it makes contact with your hair will get stuck.  And the bats will freak out and you will freak out and then you’ll have to shave your head.  So, great, the only thing preventing us from imminent baldness and a potential bout of rabies is a flimsy, hole-pocked piece of mesh.  After a futile effort of scream-laughing for help, the bats spared us and flew away, but not without leaving us reverting back into our state of nocturnal and disease-laden animal paranoia. 

Etc.
Our days were spent in a much more peaceful state.  Beaching, surfing, walking, bargaining, souveniring, ocean safari-ing and scuba diving.  One of my favorite things was snacking on the fresh cashew nuts grown locally in Mozambique.  You could get a huge bag for 1/3 the price you’d pay in the States.  Totally raw, unprocessed and delicious.  I pretty much ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  It was only after my face and eyes puffed out so much that I looked like a human goldfish did I find out that I am allergic to cashew nut skins.  The fruit that cashews grow on produce an oil related to that produced by poison oak/ivy.  And seeing as though full-bodied poison oak rashes were a huge and dark part of my childhood, my evil, oily arch nemesis had obviously resurfaced.  Lesson learned.  I’m just happy to know that if I actually had permanent elephantiasis-face, people would still be my friend.  Or at least they’d pity me enough to be nice to me.

To top off the comedy-of-errors trip to Mozambique, I was having THE worst luck seeing any of the major big-game sea-life that these waters are known for.  Mainly giant manta rays and whale sharks.   Tofo is renown for being one of the few places in the world spot these creatures.  Not only that, but it is also supposed to have one of the highest concentrations, so your likelihood of seeing these guys is very good.  So after 4ish days of failure and being told by others that they’ve seen nothing after 12 ocean safaris and dive trips, I nearly gave up hope.  Not until my final 2 days in Mozi when I decided to go for broke and blow all my cash on a last-ditch effort trying to see these frickin’ things did my luck turn for the better. 

I booked myself on a dive to Manta Reef, named so for obvious reasons.  The dive was amazing.  I love the negative-entries you do in Tofo where as soon as you roll off the boat, you bomb it head-first to the bottom.  So fun.  Except I just end up sucking down my air way too quickly, so I need to work on that.  Anyway, like I said, the dive was amazing.  No, we did not see any mantas that time, but the reef itself was beautiful and teeming with life.  More fish than I’ve ever seen in one place, a big, crotchety old potato bass, massive lobsters and a moray eel that could have literally swallowed me whole.  That thing was massive – I’d guess 3ft around.  

That afternoon, I headed out on an ocean safari.  The sea was super calm and the sun was beating down from above – the perfect conditions for spotting the massive grey shadows you look for as telltale signs of a whale shark.  After maybe 30min of searching someone shouted “mantas!” and we were in the water snorkeling with these guys.  Not even joking, they had at least a 6ft wingspan.  Once the mantas out-swam us, we headed back to the inflatable to continue our search for whale sharks.  We didn’t even make it back before out of nowhere this big 11-meter mama appeared with her beautiful grey and white speckled body. I swam with her for about 10min and watched her suck in gallons and gallons of zoo-plankton through her behemoth 6ft wide mouth.  Dang, those things are absolutely amazing. 

So after all was said and done, I successfully saw 3 mantas, 4 whale sharks and of course that ridic massive honeycomb moray eel thrown in.  In each case, I remember gasping in amazement each time I caught my first glimpse.   Unreal experiences and no better way to end my time in Mozambique!!!

OMG.  The End.  Finally.  Thanks for making it.

I'm from America. You know which one.

I might as well have the United States flag tattooed on my forehead because 99% of the time people correctly guess right off the bat that I’m American.  I always ask how they know this and I’m told it’s because of the way I dress (bedazzled stretch pants?), my accent (strong pronunciation of the letter R) and/or choice of vocabulary (use of the word ‘totally,’ etc). Otherwise, if I’m just asked “where are you from?” in general, I always reply with, “I’m from the US; from California.”  There are specific reasons I have chosen this particular wording, based on a series of trial and error:

A) I do not just say “I’m from America” due to the fact that I will open myself up to getting shit from people who will say, “well, there are a lot of Americas – North, Central, South – do you think the United States encompasses all of the Americas?” To which I would like to respond by Stooge-poking them in the eyeballs.
B) I do not just say, “I’m from the US.”  This will then elicit a knowing eye-roll and a “no-shit” expression being that this is apparently obvious.  They will then follow this up with the comment, “right, but what state?”
C) I do not just say, “I’m from California.”  This invites more shit-lashing in that people from the US are apparently so proud that they don’t even need to specify their country of origin before jumping right to their state.

Hence, I avoid all of the above by detailing my birthplace as previously described.  However, I have gotten shit for this as well in that I’m being overly descriptive.  So if the international community could please come up with a non-offensive way to describe where we “United States of Americaners” are from, I would love to know so that I may comply with your standards. 

Actually, scratch that.  I'm going to revert back to "I'm from America."  You clearly know which America I'm talking about.  Deal with it.

Race to the Border

Ok, so after a bit of wild goose chasing I found out that Lesotho no longer has the authority to issue visas or visa extensions for South Africa.  I mean, I could have probably done a bit of bribing and spent a day or two hanging out at the border making phone calls to the US Embassy in Pretoria to get them to convince South African Home Affairs to let me stay in SA longer, but that would have been ridiculous.  I have no urgent or valid reason to stay in SA longer other than "I want to."  Which sucks because that means I only got to spend 4 hours on the edge of Lesotho vs. 4 days traveling throughout.  Argh, Lesotho looked so cool and different from the rest of Africa, too, I really wanted to check it out.

Anyway, I have 2 days to get out of SA, so am booking it to Swaziland and/or Mozambique.  So far everything is going super smoothly as I got a ride from some Germans to the nearest town of Underberg where I got the last spot on the minibus to Pietermaritzburg where I transferred to a Durban minibus where I made 2 other bus transfers and made it back to the Happy Hippo backpackers by 2pm.  The whole trip only took about 4 hours!  Seeing as though I was expecting to wait for 2-3 hours in Underberg for the PMB minibus to fill up before it left, I'd say the universe is on my side today!

Tomorrow is my only shot to get out of SA before my visa expires since the 1 long-distance bus that runs from Durban to Swazi/Mozi goes on Fri, Sun and Wed.  Tomorrow is Fri and Sun is too late.  Assuming all goes well, South Africa's doors will just barely be hitting me on my way out.

Bye, SA! Love you!

(Riding a minibus with 18 of my closest friends)

Pushing My Luck

Illegal alien
So I have 9 days left on my South African visa before I become an illegal alien.  If I overstay my welcome I’m going to be fined something like $300-400.  I’ve been taking my sweet ass time up the coast and loving every second of it, but didn’t really take into account the fact that 9 days isn’t enough to cover everything I wanted to do along the South Coast and in the Drakensberg Mountains.  

You used to be able to cross into Lesotho or Swaziland and get an extra 90 days, but this is no longer the case since everyone was abusing the system.  Word on the street is now you get anywhere from 0-30 days maximum.  Most likely 7, though, but no guarantees.  I guess it all hinges on your groveling and/or bribing abilities.  And surely if you look like Shakira that couldn’t hurt, either.

Shark bait
Perhaps a more risky endeavor to be pushing my luck with is the dive I’m to do tomorrow.  I will be entering the water sans cage with scores of Oceanic Blacktip sharks as well as Tiger and perhaps Bull sharks. Aliwal Shoal is one of the few places in the world that offers diving with Tiger sharks, and I am crossing my fingers that we see some tomorrow!  Even just 1 would be awesome!  Regardless, there are supposed to be somewhere between 20-30 Blacktips around, which will be rad in itself!

Nice knowing y’all…


**UPDATE**
Best dive EVER!!! Scores of Blacktips, 6 Tigers and 1 huge Bull shark!!
Click here to check out the vid on YouTube!
 

Do I Really Have to Leave?

What I find funny looking back through my blog is that I’ve posted fewer entries in South Africa than I did in Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, etc.  Which, given the fact that I have had way more access to reliable and sometimes free wifi here in SA, is totally unacceptable!  My only explanation for this is that I’ve been having the time of my life and can’t peel myself away long enough to sit in front of my computer for hours to write updates about it.

That said, I can’t even begin to explain the feeling I get when I look back on my blog entries, photos and videos.  When people ask me how long I’ve been traveling and the words “six months” comes out of my mouth, I can hardly believe my own ears.  Not to mention I have another six months ahead of me.  It’s a daunting thought. 

My time in South Africa is nearing an end and I am really going to miss this place.  Travel here is super easy and I have had most of the comforts from home afforded to me, which has been a welcome respite from the 3rd world ruggedness sandwiched on either end….of course, that is aside from the fact that I’ve been camping sans mattress, when I do book a room I share with 5-9 other people, and I am 100% reliant on the Baz Bus and Coast to Coast guides.

I couldn’t have planned it better, really, since roughing it in developing nations is nothing short of “an experience.”  You certainly learn a hell of a lot about local culture, customs and yourself.  You don’t travel to the 3rd world for a vacation.  You go to test your limits and to venture into the unknown.  You experience things most people never will and you will be mentally, emotionally and physically moved beyond anything you could have anticipated. This is not to slight my experiences in South Africa, but I can’t say the same about traveling amongst throngs of other 20-something backpackers, all of whom are on the same track as me.  It’s the same concept as taking an overland tour.  You have a great time, but ultimately you are just stuck in a bubble with a bunch of other Western tourists.  I won’t get into that now, though.

Anyway, I am so looking forward to hurling myself back into the hectic, disorderly, dirty, disheveled 3rd world, but not without appreciating the time I’ve spent in SA.  I have had so many memorable experiences here and have met the most amazing people.  Locals and other travelers alike.

That said, South Africa at the core is a 3rd world country with many 1st world enclaves throughout.  The majority of SA is as poor and rugged as many other African nations once you get off the beaten track.  Admittedly, I have stuck to all of the tourist destinations which has given the impression of being in a 1st world country, but there is no getting around the obvious signs of blatant inequality and socio-economic gaps.  One of the most bizarre examples were all the nice homes and apartments barricaded behind barbed wire, electric fencing and guard dogs…it’s as if all the white people live in compounds to keep the black people at bay.  Additionally most of the black and “colored” populous live in townships, which were set up during apartheid as places for non-whites to live on the outskirts of major towns and cities.  So although apartheid is no longer in effect, it is still informally taking place in that at the end of the workday, all of the non-white workers catch their minibus back home to the township…it’s just that now there is no formal punishment for black people to be “caught” in city centers outside of working hours.

I wasn’t alive during the Civil Rights movement in the US, but I can imagine the aftermath is much like current-day South Africa.  People are still adjusting to the new way of life and it is going to take decades for things to start righting themselves.  Not that the US has been righted, but we’ve got an extra 30ish years of mending on SA.

So initially I was going to write this entry about how awesome South Africa is, but clearly I veered off track somewhere along the line.  Let me get back to my SA lovefest for a minute and reflect on my favorite times so far:

• Cape Town – one of the most beautiful, active and entertaining cities in the world.  I could so live here.
• Stellenbosch – unbelievably beautiful wine country.  Behold the scenery.
• Hermanus – cute little town, liked it enough.  Can imagine it’s awesome during whale season.
• Mossel Bay – decent town, but not the prettiest. Has one of my favorite hiking trails ever along rocky, tumultuous coastline.   And of course the sharks.  Some of my best times were spent here!
• Oudtshoorn – cute town amongst throngs of ostrich farms in which you can sample eggs and ride these feathered beasts.  Awesome cave system to go adventuring in as well.
• Plettenberg Bay – very small, but very cute.  Great scenery, overlooks & beaches.  Robberg Peninsula is beautiful.
• Jeffrey’s Bay – more Billabong shops per square mile than Starbucks in Seattle.  Loved Ubuntu Backpackers and the people there.  Beautiful beaches and great surfing as well.
• Cintsa – not much of a town outside of the Barfoot Café, but some great times were had here.  Buccaneers Backpackers is my favorite in SA.  Amazing view of the ocean, decent surfing, cute dogs, swimming pool, bar pool, ping pong, daily volleyball sessions, free evening goon wine…the list could go on forever.  I couldn’t stop raving about this place after I left.  I wish I stayed longer!
• Hogsback – Gorgeous mountain scenery, great hiking and pretty waterfalls.  Overrun with hippies, though, so that might have an impact on how much time one can spend here.
• Coffee Bay – contrary to everything I heard about CB and the Coffee Shack Backpackers, I thought this place was a dump.  The setup wasn’t conducive to mingling and I’ve seen way better facilities.  What makes up for it, though, are all the daily activities they have on offer – hikes, cliff jumps, beach days, etc. 

I have another 2 weeks left before I must leave South Africa, so the list will go on from here.  I'm on the fringes of Durban now, and plan to do some diving on the Aliwal Shoal before I make my way to the Drakensberg mountains and on to Lesotho, Swaziland, Mozambique and Madagascar before I leave Africa.  Unless I go to Ethiopia, but I'm not sure about that yet....

BUNGY

It's been a few days now since I did the (arguably) world's highest bungy jump at Bloukran's Bridge, South Africa (216m/709ft).  Highest schmighest, ANY bungy is scary.  I've now done a handful of bungys in my life, all of which have been pants-soiling.  I will say, though, that this one was the scariest yet, obviously due to the lengthy free-fall.  You really are only falling for something like 5 seconds before you start to feel the cord tugging at your ankles, but those 5 seconds are sheer insanity...or perhaps joy.

Thing is, each time I've bungied I've gone twice on the same day.  I really think this is the way to go because you get a totally different experience out of each jump.  The first jump I'm always super nervous, tense and have a moment of "I might die right now."  My brain just feels totally twisted and violated.  On the other hand, my second jump experiences have been much more chilled and relaxed.   I’m over the initial shock and know what to expect so totally enjoy the free-fall.  It feels more like floating or flying than uncontrollably plummeting to the bottom of a gorge.   So fun!

If it were free, I’d seriously jump until my eyeballs popped out of my head.

Getting Fancy

I've decided to try to add a photo here and there to my posts.  So, yay.

How to Ride an Ostrich

In Theory
1. Find an ostrich to ride.
2. Mount the bird.
3. Hold on tight as it sprints around like a bucking bronco.

In Practice
1. Find an ostrich to ride.
2. Give camera to someone to take video/photos.
3. Mount the bird, legs under wings.
4. Adjust butt positioning while bird starts getting visibly annoyed.
5. Grab base of wings.  Do not grab neck.
6. Hook legs as tightly as possible around front of now angry bird.
7. Lean way back.
8. Try to stay on massive, flailing bird as it sprints around, hating you and hating life.
9. Fall back into handlers, attempting not to yank any more feathers out of this poor bird than you already have.
10. Review photos taken by aforementioned 'someone' and get annoyed that they suck at taking pictures and didn’t get anything Facebook-worthy.

All-in-all, it's not something I’d necessarily do again or recommend to anyone because of the minor animal-cruelty aspect of it…but I’m not gonna lie, it was good, ridiculous fun.