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Ethiopia Part V: Journey to the Center of the Earth – The Danakil Depression

12 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

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Tags

Desert, Geology, Tours, Volcano

Camel train in the Danakil

Our four day/three-night trip to one of the most inhospitable areas of the globe was very weird.   And not necessarily for the reasons that I was expecting.

I was expecting it to be really hot and dusty.  I was expecting to see weird rock formations, bubbling pools of sulphuric acid and geysers.  I was expecting to sleep out rough under the stars and smell really bad by the end of the trip.  I was expecting long hours of driving in the car observing tiny villages of the Afar people who somehow manage to live a nomadic existence drifting from place to place in this arid, harsh, landscape.

Cool Rock formations in the Danakil

But those weren’t really the weirder aspects of the trip for me.

The weirdest part of the trip was the large group that we were traveling in – and the group dynamics that arose as a result.  It impacted my impression of almost every activity we participated in – and made a jaunt into the rock pools to see multi-colored geological phenomenon feel more like a trip to the mall in Shanghai than an expedition to one of the lowest points on the planet.

Our group consisted of about 40 persons, of which about 30 were a large group of Chinese tourists, who seemed to all know one another, though I never actually ascertained for sure whether or not this was true.

Quatchi poses on the salt flats

Mike walks through the salt lakes

I would like to think of myself as a very open and unbiased person.  I certainly do not consider myself to be racist.  I do not wish to offend any of my readers by stating this – so I will reserve my observations to be solely about the individual group of people that I spent this time in the Ethiopian desert with.  But I came to truly dislike the behaviors of these individuals, and it proved difficult by the end to separate my feelings about the Danakil and the sites we were witnessing with my feelings at how this group would act in the space.

First, other than the lovely two individuals from Shanghai that Mike and I shared our 4X4 with – the group of Chinese pretty much kept to themselves and didn’t engage in conversation with any of us “outsiders”.  They were obsessed with taking selfies and spent hours and hours getting the perfect photos of themselves at each and every site of interest.  Boyfriends would patiently acquiesce to their woman’s request for hundreds of pictures at different angles, with and without sunglasses, with and without certain expressions, standing facing to the right or to the left, with and without a flash, and any and all possible variations in between.

Since we had armed security with us (there is a real threat of Eritrean terrorism as the Danakil is very close to the border that is still disputed, and tourists have been targets in the past) – some of the Chinese would “borrow” their guns and spend hours taking photos holding the guns in a mind numbing array of different poses and set ups.

Chillin’ on the roof of our 4×4 with Mike

I found it both entertaining and nauseating to watch.

Then came the photo editing and the obligatory “whitening” of pictures by the women who are obsessed with being as pale as humanly possible – to the point where some of the girls looked like ghosts – and would not consider spending any time out in this inhospitable environment without perfect makeup which including lots of whitening foundation and powder.  To avoid the horrific possibility of sun ever touching their skin – they would all be dressed in multiple layers including down vests – even when the temperature hovered around 40 degrees centigrade.

Many of their group smoked and they never failed to drop their cigarette butts wherever it suited them.  On our hike to the summit of the Erta Ale volcano – which happened in the dark, late evening in the eeriest and most atmospheric of times – the Chinese group were selfish enough to be BLASTING music from their phones as loud as possible spoiling any of the 40 or so of us hiking from the possibility of enjoying a quiet moment of peace while hiking the mountain.

Sunset at the Salt Lakes

Aside from the fascinating human observation opportunities this provided – the geography of the region we were visiting was quite vivid – I still think it paled slightly in comparison to Yellowstone, Death Valley, and the Bolivian Salar de Uyuni,  though it was interestingly a cool combination of all 3.

I enjoyed the chance to walk through the salt laden lakes and see my feet crunching on the beautiful crystallized salt as the sun was setting on our first evening.  That kind of vast emptiness has a haunting quality unique unto itself.  Seeing our 8 4×4’s driving side by side on this highway-less terrain was crazy and quite unnerving whenever our driver pointed out that he wasn’t quite sure of the direction we were supposed to be heading in (with an endless horizon, it is super easy to get turned around and navigation skills are crucial.)

Folks in our group pose for pics

Our car was the lucky one to get stuck in the salt mud and had to get help as our spinning tires were just sinking us ever further into the mire.  Eventually, the large group of arguing Ethiopian guides and drivers figured out how to secure a wench to the back of our car and pulled it free – leaving it to us to scream at the Chinese group taking photos that they might wanna take 30 or so steps back to avoid getting their heads knocked clean off if anything were to go wrong and the cable snapped during the dangerous operation.

My vision of sleeping in a desert wilderness sans tent with just the stars for light was not to be.  The camp in Hamedela was slapped right next to a Potash factory that had massive artificial spotlights that kept the entire camp illuminated throughout the night, much to my disappointment.  The guides set out our hammock-like “cots” in rows, somehow wrongly believing that we must all want to sleep in tight proximity with one another rather than to spread out and experience the wilderness.

Getting stuck

Food was served en masse and it was a free for all and you had to take what you could or end up hungry – especially since there were no chances to obtain snacks and we’d sometimes go six or seven hours between meals.

Our guides left much to be desired also and I found myself completely switched off most of the time they were talking anyways.  The first one barely spoke English, though I really loved his reference to how the following day we would be driving 15 minutes between one site and the next “water bubbly.”   Everything we stopped to see we did as a large group which gave one the feeling of being part of a herd of cattle.  During our time at the geysers, rock pools, and multi-colored acidic rock – we were often led walking directly over the highly toxic and dangerous ground and I got yelled at for taking a safer more indirect route – by the guards with the guns!  I couldn’t believe that they would let tourists trample all over this fragile and geologically thin/exposed/volcanic and potentially explosive/corrosive ground without regard to its preservation or to our safety.

It was infuriating, even though the natural wonders themselves were incredible.

Our camp beds

In the middle of Day two, we visited a working salt mine that was complete with hundreds of workers hacking away at the ground to produce rectangular shapes of rock salt that they would then affix to hundreds of camels who would carry it over hundreds of miles to and from market.  It really was quite a sight to see and it looked like incredibly arduous work done over long stretches of time in the blaring sun and heat.

Ironically, everywhere we went, we would see salt in its many forms, but there was never salt served with our meals.  I’d point this out – but I think as I mentioned before – irony and sarcasm is somewhat lost on Africans.

Remains of a not so lucky donkey that drank salt water

We had a very long drive to our mid-way point on day two – which was going to take us back on the road to Mekele to a town that was on the way to our destination for day three – the Erta Ale Volcano where we might hopefully see molten red lava at night while we camped on its summit.

Though our itinerary stated we’d be camping for 3 nights – we apparently were going to be staying on mattresses in three rooms in a private house that had been arranged for us in the small town of Abala.  When our car arrived, our guide explained that there really wasn’t room for us in the assigned rooms and that we could either sleep on the floor of our hosts’ living room – or we could drive back to Mekele for the night and they would cover the cost of a hotel room.  It was altogether very confusing – it appeared that they’d overbooked the place by several individuals, and the idea of sharing one bathroom and one shower with 39 individuals was not in the least appealing.

Multi colored pools on day 2

Colorful volcanic rock

Mini Geyser

Mike suggested that perhaps they might cover the cost of a room in a local hotel in town – and we were happy when they agreed to this suggestion.  Strangely, our two car companions opted to stay with the group while Mike and I got our own room about half a kilometer up the road with our own private shower.  We high-fived; feeling that we had definitely scored.

It rained that night for the second time during our whole trip and Mike and I made our way back to our room after a rather yummy fasting meal with the soft patter of raindrops and the exhortations of kids begging for candy all the way to our room where we thankfully fell asleep, grateful for our luxurious privacy.

Highway to nowhere

One of the other main issues on this trip that spoiled my enjoyment of it was the lack of hygiene and basic sanitation.  On our first and last camps – despite the fact that hundreds of tourists stay here every single week during the visiting season – there were no pit toilets or facilities of any kind.  Not being given any sort of instruction – folks would just take a shit anywhere they took a fancy, very often just strewing their toilet paper along with it.  It was absolutely disgusting.  Peeing in the bush is one thing – but having human excrement building up over years and years right next to where Afar villages were trying to live life and raise their herds of animals is unacceptably gross.   Not only that, but no water was provided for us to wash our hands prior to mealtimes.  Luckily, we had a very kind and thoughtful driver who would bring us a gerry can and soap for our car when Mike and I would insist on washing our hands.

On the third day we drove over seven long hours to reach the volcano.  Much of this was over very rocky and non-paved terrain that was as good an African massage as any we’d experienced on this trip.  We spent long hours waiting for everything that day – to leave Abala in the am, to get lunch, to leave on the climb for the summit.  Then, as we were climbing to the summit of Erta Ale along with many many other groups of a similar size to ours, all of a sudden they decided to march us at such a pace that it was impossible to pee or rest along the way.  It took all of four hours to get to the summit and we were only given 3-5 minutes breaks ever hour and a half.  It was crazy to be herded at that kind of pace when we had been waiting and waiting all day long.  I didn’t understand the reason for it – but I can only assume that ETT is given a certain “window” in which to climb and have a time for “viewing” of the lava before they have to clear out and make room for other groups.

Camels at the salt digging site

With this herd mentality and the blaring of music along the way, I can’t say I enjoyed this mountain experience since it was anything but.  In addition, there was trash all along the way – thousands of discarded plastic bottles along with toilet paper and cigarette butts lining the path all the way to the summit.  Which, unfortunately, was obscured with high winds and steam – so you could see a really eerie red glow – but not any lava.

We were finally getting into our sleeping bags around midnight, and were expected to get up to have another viewing opportunity at 4:30am.  Clearly this segment of the trip was badly organized as I need more sleep than that to function properly – not to mention it was 11 kms each way to ascend and descend.  I skipped the ass-raping crack of dawn call and tried to get another hour of sleep before we were forced to march down the mountain single file following our brave gun-toting military scouts.

Bleh.

Red glow from Erta Ale

I could easily have skipped this part of the trip.  Seeing the lava would have been just amazing – but I felt like I was hiking a large garbage dump on a poorly organized multi-school trip where you had an uncomfortable sleepless night and had to take a shit where thousands had before you, out in the open for all to see in a massive area covered in human excrement for the past 17 years.

By the time we arrived back in Mekele, I was falling down from exhaustion and beyond ready for a shower, a decent meal, and clean sheets.  I was also waiting to hear from a friend in Accra who was potentially going to be available for me to hang out with for my last week in Africa.  After the Danakil, I really had seen all I wanted to see in Ethiopia and I was so done with the people here and their attitudes (as I described in my first article about this country).  Unfortunately, my friend was not going to be able to have me visit – so Mike joined me as I drank 3 Gin and Tonics before we ordered a rather delicious pizza and righteously passed out.

The next day was going to be a day of rest, no doubt about it!

The Gorilla Loop Part I – Lake Naivasha

21 Sunday Jun 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Kenya

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Tags

Animals, Camping, Tours

Me on Lake Naivasha

Me on Lake Naivasha

I was sad to leave South Africa. This country had really gotten under my skin and I wished I had a little more time there. The two days of high level activity had left me very drained and also very sick, so I literally took the Baz Bus to Johannesburg and had them drop me off directly at an airport hostel.  I ate dinner at a posher hotel across the street (I ordered Malva pudding and hot custard for dinner…come on, I was sick, yar?) and then promptly went to sleep coughing and sneezing up a storm.

The following day saw me take a flight from Johannesburg back to Nairobi to begin the Gorilla Loop overland truck tour with the same company I did my 56 day Coast to Coast odyssey with, Oasis Overland.  I even had the same tour leader and driver as before. The day was arduous as my virus was now full blown and it ended up taking longer to drive to Karen Camp from Nairobi Kenyatta’s airport than the four hours flying time it took from Johannesburg. Apparently, torrential rains had caused some major flooding and road damage, so Smiley explained that the traffic had just been utterly horrendous. It was good to see Smiley again – he was the first person I met when I arrived here nearly 3 months ago and it was good to catch up. Since we were literally parked for much of the only 15 mile or so journey, we played good old rock ballads on the radio and I attempted to croak along in between coughing fits.

New crew on the bus including the wonderful Greg

New crew on the bus including the wonderful Greg

I briefly met my tour group before heading straight for the shower and after to find Pete and Tabby to get back in the truck and collect the things I’d had them drive back up to Nairobi with. I then re-organized my entire backpack for just what I’d need on this trip through Kenya, Uganda, and Rwanda and put the rest into storage at the camp.

Our first stop on this journey was Lake Naivasha and on arrival at our campsite we were welcomed by a rare sighting of the mighty black and white Colubus monkey playing in the grass looking out over the lake and its mighty hippos that were honking behind the security fence.

That afternoon’s activities seemed mellow enough that I decided to haul my sorry sick ass along to them. They consisted of an hour’s boat ride on the lake where we saw lots of lovely colorful birds and some crazy men who were fishing not twenty meters from where five or six hippos were cavorting in the shallow water. It was a lovely sunny afternoon and I was looking forward to the afternoon tea I was promised at the former home of the late Joy Adamson, author of the “Born Free” series of books about her life in Africa raising wild cats domestically that she then later tried to let back into the wild.

Well, it was a bit disappointing on both counts. First of all, the tea was not a high tea, it consisted of “get your own tea” and ginger cake and cookies. Which is all fine, I wasn’t that hungry as I was snivelling everywhere. After wandering around the house and it’s attached museum we were ushered into a viewing room where we watched the documentary on Joy Adamson’s life.

Crazy fishermen busy working not more than twenty meters from the hippos

Crazy fishermen busy working not more than twenty meters from the hippos

Well, I’ll have to do a little bit of my own research, but frankly, I was quite horrified by this woman. Firstly, she kept getting married and then falling in love with a second and subsequently third man, each time divorcing the poor bastard she’d married before “till I love someone else more than you.” Then, she got to live this charmed existence in Kenya, financially supported by whichever husband she happened to be with at the time, and spent her days painting flowers while World War II was raging back in Europe. Finally, after her husband shot a lion during a safari, they decided to bring the cubs home and raise them at their house as pets. This led to her lifelong passion for wild cats, studying them and learning how to rehabilitate them back in the wild, which she then, of course, monopolized on financially by writing books about it all.

Frankly, she was very lucky to be doing what she was doing at that time, because nowadays she’d be arrested for what she pulled. “Born Free?” Yeah – they were, until your husband shot their mother and then they had to live with you pawing at them and pulling their tails (which you can witness on the video multiple times) and becoming rich as a result. I found her to be a most disagreeable woman and found her legitimizing the domestication of these wild lions and leopards to be quite disgusting.

It is probably a reflection of how times have changed, and I’m sure her foundation has actually done a lot of good in terms of protecting the cats here in National Park. That being said, “ugh” – what a horrible woman.

Fish Eagle above Lake Naivasha

Fish Eagle above Lake Naivasha

The following day I was well and truly in need of some solid rest and so reluctantly turned down the opportunity to go to Hell’s Gate National Park and partake in the only biking safari in Africa, for the chance to try and get healthy again.
I was sad to miss out on that experience, especially since it sounded like a great workout too.

Instead, I had a lovely afternoon talking to Greg, one of the passengers on our truck, who at 75, was mightily impressive in all he had done in his life and all the vitality and energy he still showed for his continued adventures. I write this recollection with sadness, as Greg tragically died of a heart attack a few days later during our Gorilla trek in Bwinde Impenetrable National Forest.

Hippo strolling through camp

Hippo strolling through camp

He made quite a distinct impression on me, and in the short week or so our group knew him, he became well liked and a team favorite. He had the most amazing stories that would start off, giving just one example, like “Well, you know…I was working in Papua New Guinea when Saigon fell….” – and you’d just shake your head and marvel at him.
I was very saddened by his death, as we all were, and my heart goes out to his family.

Nothing else really exciting happened at Naivasha other than me feeling utterly sorry for myself, having a good cry and getting nicely drunk with two of the girls in the bar next door who kindly listened to my stories about how this trip was supposed to be mending my broken heart.

Which it wasn’t, but by now, has definitely started to.

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The Garden Route Part II: The Crags

04 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, South Africa

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Adventure Sports, Hikes, Kayaking, Tours

Heading out on the Salt River Hike

Heading out on the Salt River Hike

My next stop along the Garden Route was to be at a place called The Crags – close to Knysna, Storms River, and other small towns along The Garden Route and close to Tsitsikamma National Park. The hostel had been recommended to me because of its beautiful location – though I was warned that it was slightly “hippy” in atmosphere.

Sure enough, there were drumming circles, copious instructions on composting/recycling, dreadlocked folk strumming guitars, yoga/meditation classes, and lots of cats and dogs roaming freely amongst the chilled out backpackers who all regaled their story of coming to Wild Spirit for two nights – and staying for seven. I was planning on staying for two nights and stuck to my plan.

Not that I didn’t enjoy the place – on the contrary, I made a nice little circle of friends, and the home cooked food was otherworldly. The whole lodge is set against a backdrop of lush forest that peters out towards the ocean. The bar area was built literally around a giant tree that was covered with fairy lights creating a lovely atmosphere in the albeit very chilly evenings. In the main lounge, folks fought for a space on one of the giant sofas with the gigantic dogs who seemed to own the most coveted spots around the open fireplace. It was very cozy indeed.

A cute little Dassie in Storms River

A cute little Dassie in Storms River

Unfortunately, I had come down with a bad cough after my bike ride in Outsdhoorn so I wanted to take it a little easy on my first day. I had made a new friend in Ashley – a girl whom on first appearance I was sure I wouldn’t get along with and who subsequently surprised me with her genuine, fun spirit. She was a total self-professed hippie, with giant purple and turquoise dreads, lots of piercings and tattoos adorning large swaths of flesh. She also had an extremely interesting career producing fetish videos – which led to lots of very interesting conversations. On the first day, I was disappointed to discover that Untouched Adventures (a company offering a kayak and “lilo” experience up the channel in Storms River) was too far away to send a shuttle for me to participate in their tour. I was delighted therefore to meet up with a lovely English couple, who’d just gotten engaged(!) named John and XXXX who over breakfast, informed me of their plan to do the afternoon kayak tour and offered to take me with them in their rental car.

Glad to have a little rest to blog in the morning, I happily joined them – and since she’d gotten back from having completed the world’s highest bungee jump that am, Ashley came along too. On arrival at Tsitsikamma National Park, we found that Jake (from Outsdhoorn and the bus) had also signed up for the afternoon adventure…making us a happy little group of 5. Still not feeling great, I opted to rent a full wetsuit in case I worsened my symptoms paddling upstream on a lilo in frigid brackish water.

Storms River

Storms River

On our "Lilos" in Storms River Gorge

On our “Lilos” in Storms River Gorge

The landscape was really beautiful and verdant – and we walked along the coastline for about a half mile before coming to the mouth of the river where we were to put in our kayaks to paddle up the Storms River Gorge. The gorge itself was stunning and reminded me a little of both The Narrows in Zion National Park, and Wadi Mujib in Jordan…I love places where you can be in the water with towering rock walls jutting up alongside you enclosing you in the magic that lies between them. All told, the kayaking was very short indeed which was a little disappointing, though I was looking forward to the “lilo” section as I can honestly say I have never ever paddled myself upstream on a river laying on one. This was one of those “firsts” that get rarer with age and the amount of travel that I am lucky enough to do. This was when I was truly grateful to have rented the wetsuit as we laid belly down and swiftly used our hands to continue our way up the gorge. Again, we didn’t go very far, but we enjoyed the experience and the setting nonetheless. A few bold cliff jumps into the water completed the excursion before it was time to kayak back to our starting point.

After, our newly founded little group got wine and seafood at the café and heard the story of how John had proposed. It was a very memorable day made all the more special by the live music that awaited us at the hostel upon our return home.

The Wild Spirit Backpackers at The Crags

The Wild Spirit Backpackers at The Crags

The bus was going to be picking both me and Ashley up the next day in the evening to take us to Port Elizabeth where we would be forced to spend the night in order to catch the next vehicle heading to our next destination – the Wild Coast. I was super excited to have made an alteration to my planned itinerary upon learning that it was possible to do a 3 night/2 day hike along the coast (think up hills, down hills, along beaches, up and inland, across inland, rinse and repeat for a very long time) and had booked nights at Bulungula Inn for my first night, Wild Lubanzi for my second, and ending my trip in Coffee Bay (where I had originally intended on staying for two nights.)

Determined not to let a silly cold/cough hold me back, Ashley and a few others opted to do the famed Salt River hike that day which is supposed to give you a snapshot feel for all that the Garden Route is famous for – Fynbos, trees, rivers, beaches, and beautiful scenery. This trail would lead us to the ending point of the famed Otter Trail – a five day hike that gets booked years in advance. Though feeling a little rough, I managed to keep up with the girls as we set out on our intended loop – aiming to be back to the hostel in time to shower, change and hop on the bus to Port Elizabeth.

The map that our hostel owner had given us lent itself to extreme frustration as none of the markings were accurate or helped us orient ourselves. We eventually had to just rely on our sight and logic and made our way along the beach to the restaurant at the end of the Otter trail where we ordered a lovely lunch. Since I wasn’t feeling great, we opted to take the slightly shorter route back up to the starting point, where we got picked up.

Ashley and me

Ashley and me

Ashley and I had a lovely day and discovered that we actually have a lot in common and eerily similar backgrounds in terms of our religious childhoods. It was a lovely day, and we were glad to have some down time before having to re-join the bus (where Lea and Jake also joined us) as we headed to PE for the night.

Last Days of Overlanding – Onward to Cape Town

24 Sunday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites, Desert, Indigenous People, Tours

Spitzkoppe

Spitzkoppe

It was hard to believe but the 56 day coast to coast overland adventure I’d embarked on in Nairobi was coming to a close.  We had three more days on the road after Swakopmund before we’d arrive in Cape Town and I’d start my independent travel in South Africa.

I can’t say I was sad that the trip was coming to an end.  While there were numerous advantages to being on a truck with a planned route, and tour operators arranged for you  in each destination; it was very challenging for me to not have the freedom that independent travel affords.  I was so looking forward to being able to go where I wanted, when I wanted, to stay for as long as I wanted, and most importantly, to spend time with whom I wanted.

Despite my extroversion, I was really looking forward to some alone time as well.

Leaving Swakopmund, our first stop was a beautiful spot in the desert called Spitzkoppe – an area of stunning red rock formations that recalled to mind similar vistas in Arizona/Utah, Australia, and Jordan’s Wadi Rum.  Our group was greeted by two very cute running meerkats who continued to follow us as we embarked on our two hour guided hike through the area.

Meerkats following us!

Meerkats following us!

Our guide took us to see some cave paintings and told us a little bit about the history of the San people, whom it is believed created the art.  He also talked about the San language and how it related to his native Tamara – which only contains five clicks as opposed to the Bush people’s seven.

We then hiked to a watering hole, though none of us had our swimsuits, which was unfortunate since it was already swelteringly hot.  It was still a very beautiful place and I thought it one of the most scenic spots we’d stopped at on the trip so far.

The following day we visited a farm in the middle of nowhere – desert all around as far as the eye could see.  We were scheduled to have an afternoon/evening desert tour with a man known locally as “Boesmann” or “Bushman”.  He is a white 4th generation Namibian who bought this dilapidated farm, and renovated it in the hopes that he would be able to make a living offering tours of the desert to tourists passing through the area.

At the watering hole in the hot sun

At the watering hole in the hot sun

The tour itself was very informative and interesting (despite the fact that I found his extremely thick accent somewhat hard to concentrate to) and we learned lots of stuff about desert survival.  A few of the tips I remember:

  • If you’re lost in the desert, never go to a tree.  There might be wild animals there.
  • If you get lost in the desert, split up into small groups.  You have a higher chance of survival apparently
  • The San didn’t drink water.  They would suck on the eyeballs of any hunted Oryx and then wring out their stomachs for liquid that would be provided to the women and children. Sounds thirst quenching.
  • You can eat lizards to stay hydrated.
  • You can never kill a beetle by standing on it in the sand.  It will just go deeper into the sand.
  • Never ever help an oryx out of a fence if he’s stuck in it.  He will gore you to death.  Better call the farmer who’s land the Oryx is on so he can shoot and eat it.

Boesmann also gave us some additional interesting information on the Bushmen.  His grandfather, apparently, had one as a pet. Yes, you read that right – people in Namibia  used to have Bushmen that they kept as pets along with their chickens and dogs.   It was legal to hunt and kill bushmen until 1920.  Isn’t that shocking?

"Bushman" giving us his tour of the desert

“Bushman” giving us his tour of the desert

He talked a little about how nomadic they were and their incredible capacities for gorging themselves on meat if they were lucky enough to make a kill.  He said they could eat 20kg of meat in one go and then they would sleep in order to digest it properly.  He also talked about the realities of their nomadic existence and how if they had gone for some days without finding food, it might have been necessary to leave behind the youngest children who might slow the group down.  It was said that it was best to simply walk away and not look back at the abandoned child, left to die alone in the hot desert.  Since they believe that one should never speak of the dead, the mother would sit by the smoky fire that evening, so that if she cried, she could attribute her tears to the smoke.

Rather heartbreaking, isn’t it?

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Heading up Soussvlei

Heading up Soussvlei

The following day was a day of fun in the hot sand of Soussvlei, Deadvlei, and Dune 46 – the largest free standing sand dune in the world.  At Soussvlei, we arrived, much to our chagrin, at 12pm – the hottest part of the day when the sun was at its strongest point.  Doing our best to stay hydrated and not get fried to a crisp, we set out on what we thought was a guided tour of the dunes, but we were simply dropped off in a jeep and given no additional information.  Not really sure what we were expected to do – we hiked up the main ridge of the dune and then had a whale of a time running back down (this is by far the most enjoyable part of climbing sand dunes)  Upon our return, we found out that we weren’t actually supposed to climb the dune because we were climbing Dune 45.  What the hell?!

Personally, I was fine with climbing both and welcomed the exercise very much indeed.

That night we enjoyed a beautiful setting for our final bush camp experience.  The setting was lakefront and the only thing that spoilt the location was the amount of trash that had been left behind by previous groups.  Since we’d gotten in before sunset, I suggested that we play the game of charades that the group had so enjoyed together at Okavango Delta.  It was a fun evening until another fight broke out within the group.  Apparently someone thought it funny to put trash in someone else’s locker.  Group dynamics had been somewhat dramatic on this journey, though I suppose that can be expected when you spend this amount of time on a truck.

Quatchi likes the dunes too

Quatchi likes the dunes too

Our final day of the tour itself was initially not even going to happen when Pete discovered the following morning that the truck wouldn’t start.  Panic was soon subsided by the fact that our driver is a mechanical genius, and within an hour he’d replaced whatever vital part wasn’t functioning before and we were on our way.

Our only stop this day was the second largest canyon in the world – Fish River Canyon in the very south of Namibia.  We only had two hours there but it was enough to get a good long walk in to the various lookouts over the edge of the canyon.  I had read about the five day trek that one can do through the canyon, skirting the river along the canyon floor, but the only way to do it non-independently was with a tour operator that was charging well over a $1000 for it.  I would have loved to climb down and see how the views changed based on where you were inside its vertical walls.

Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn

Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn

Our last night was at a lovely campsite ran by the same coach company – Felix Unite –  that was going to be transporting us in the very early morning to Cape Town.  I had cooking duties this last night, and we made Spanish omelettes, Potato wedges and guacamole.  It was delicious, and I’m finally unafraid of making omelettes!

I re-packed all of my bags, as Tabitha and Pete were kind enough to take a bag from me and transport it back with them to Nairobi where I would be re-joining them in a few weeks.  At first I wasn’t sure if I was going to do the Gorilla Loop tour that lasts 18 days, but since it was going to cost me $375 just to change my international plane tickets, and I did have the time at the moment (if not the funds) I had decided that I was going to go to Uganda and Rwanda after my nearly 3 weeks in South Africa.

At Fish River Canyon

At Fish River Canyon

This trip has really challenged me in many ways that I was not expecting.  At first, it was all too much and I very much regretted coming, and yearned to go home where things were known to me and predictable.  I missed my friends.  I missed having someone to talk to.  And I still do – travel can be a very lonely experience if you haven’t anyone to share it with.  However, I have fallen for the spirit of Africa and made a decision to stick with my original plans and take each day as it comes.  This is what will make me a stronger person – I hope.

I was so looking forward to returning to South Africa, almost 14 years after I had first visited on Semester at Sea.

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Swakopmund – Bizarre German city in the desert

21 Thursday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Culture, Tours, Townships

IMG_0013Swakopmund just looks funny.  It isn’t congruent with any sort of mental image one has of a city in Africa.  Granted, that initial image is often quite misdirected to start with, given the shamefully limited amount of exposure we Americans get to African news/culture/history.   It’s German influence was clearly visible; from its architecture and the manicured design of its streets to its cold meats at breakfast.  The language of the predominantly white city population, however, was Afrikaans and the people were fiercely Namibian (which they made very clear if and when it came up in conversation).

The restaurants were overpriced compared to other stops we’d made, the meals costing roughly what they would back home.  It was nice, however, to order some really well prepared fruit smoothies, western wraps, and grilled steak.  There was a distinctly European feel to everything in that city and one could easily forget they were on the African continent.

That is, until you ventured even a few blocks outside the city.  Like major metropolitan areas in South Africa (and South Africa governed Namibia until it gained independence in 1964) – Swakopmund is surrounded by sprawling townships, the raw materials utilized in the their construction getting progressively more temporary and non-robust the further out of the city you went, like the outer layers of an onion.  Swakopmund’s main industry is mining – and people come from all over the country with the promise of better wages in the urban areas.  However depressing, 90% of Swakopmund’s population live in the townships – and they are all people of color, known in Namibia as Black and colored (anyone with mixed blood/race), yet they earn/retain only 10% of its wealth.  That is the reality here.  Ethnically, Namibia’s gene pool is about as diverse as you can find here – with the main tribes living here being San, Tamara (who like the Xhosa in South Africa, have a language based around 5 clicks) Otambo, and Herero – though the Herero’s numbers are vastly diminished due to their almost being exterminated by the Germans after colonization in a massive genocide that I’d never even heard of.

The other side of Swakopmund

The other side of Swakopmund

Of course most of the group were busy doing the adrenaline activities Swakopmund is touristically famous for: Skydiving, quad biking, sand boarding and the like.  I didn’t begrudge anyone enjoying these activities, of course, I just decided that I wanted to have a recuperative break here, and try to get to know the local communities a little better.  So, together with the Frenchies Sandrine and Benoit, I elected to go on a Township tour that could be done on bicycle.

It was a wonderful experience.

Getting out on our bike township tour

Getting out on our bike township tour

First of all, it was just great getting out on a bike for the first time and getting some needed exercise.  Our guide, Costa, was wonderful, generous, and enthusiastic about showing us the township which was also his home.  We made several stops enroute – to try biltong being sold by women on the side of the road (this is a type of dried meat like jerky but way better tasting) and next to a Herrero woman’s home.  She talked about what life was like here in the townships when the whites basically ousted all colored/black people to the outskirts of town – telling them that they would be provided better housing even though the purpose of the move was to establish segregation.  She said her family were given a much better concrete house compared to the converted rail carriage that they had been living in, so they were happy.

Township water pump

Township water pump

I learned that Herreros are essentially descendants of the Himba people.  The Himba were employed as servants and in general labor when the Germans first arrived here.  However, the German wives were none too pleased that their husbands were in the constant company of women who walked about without shame of their nakedness.  When these women started having babies that were far more light skinned than their husband’s genes would naturally procure, the wives insisted that the Himba employees clothe themselves modestly.  The Herrero chose very distinct clothing to ensure that their heritage would remain very distinctive, with giant headdresses that appeared like the bulls of a horn and would make the people look taller than they were.  Women of the Herrero were expected to marry young, and their husband would be chosen for them by their father’s brother.  Of course, as in many African cultures, men could have multiple wives, but it was interesting to hear this woman talk about how it was the first wife’s job to choose wife number two and three, making sure that they weren’t as pretty as wife number one.  For the lady whom we met, she thankfully said she’d raised seven children while being her husband’s only wife.  Enquiries as to why he hadn’t married more women were politely smiled at but not answered.

Cycling further into the outskirts of the townships we were able to observe the concrete permanent structures changing to tin, corrugated metals and makeshift cardboard and the dwellings went on as far as the eye could see.  Water is a precious resource in this township and it was interesting to see the line of people at the single pump for hundreds of residences, awaiting to pay money into a coin slot in order to fill up their jerry cans.  When you ran out of cash, you also ran out of water…

Me and a local Herrero woman

Me and a local Herrero woman

Our guide explained how you could qualify for help with certain types of housing with the Namibian government.  However, he also said that it wasn’t enough for you to have low wages; they had to be low enough to qualify, but high enough to afford the high interest rates on the mortgage.  He said he didn’t earn anywhere near enough to qualify, and was stuck sharing a small two bedroom unit with about 6 of his friends.

Closer look at the houses of the township

Closer look at the houses of the township

As the sun was setting we also visited a herbalist who was Tamara and kindly also gave us a great demonstration of the five clicks of her language while talking us through the various herbs and remedies that provided her livelihood.  It was so crazy to me that these people all lived together, all with such different backgrounds, cultures, each speaking their own native tongue but communicating with the majority either in English or Afrikaans.  We finished our tour with some streetside bbq which was delicious and then retired to a local bar where we were serenaded by an incredible 8 member a capella group who astonished me with their beautiful faces and harmonies.

This was definitely one of the highlights of Swakopmund for me.  The other came quite strangely, again, from my computer dilemnas.  Attempting to find a cheap replacement laptop as well as a way to fix my camera, I met a woman called Marshall who worked at Royal Computers about 15 minutes walk from our hostel.  After talking to her several times about the various models she had for sale, and discovering that she could very kindly restore the over 2000 photos that had been accidentally formatted from my SD card at a dumb internet café, she offered to drive me around the city in search of a good laptop.  I couldn’t believe how kind she was, and after four or five stops, I found a decent Lenovo for just over $500 that would serve me well for the remainder of my trip, if not in life after.

Me and Marshall

Me and Marshall

She introduced me to her husband and son, and her co-worker Chri-Lei, and the small group of us hang out after the shop closed on a Saturday, chatting merrily about life and what my travels had been like thus far.  I invited everyone out to lunch, but unfortunately the family had an appointment to go to.  I sang Marshall a song after she requested one and choosing a Janis Joplin number, she welled up with tears as she reached to hug me goodbye when I finished. I was very moved.

Walking towards the beach in search of a deserved beer, Chris-Lei joined me and he and I ended up having several rounds of drinks over fish and chips at a great little beachside restaurant for the rest of the day.  We talked about philosophy, religion, race, life in America, life for him in Namibia; there wasn’t a topic that was off the table, and it was so completely refreshing to feel such a great connection to another person.  To feel that I mattered again, to someone if only for a few hours.

Me and Chris-Lei

Me and Chris-Lei

Returning to my hostel first to take care of some errands, we arranged to meet up later and catch a movie at the local cinema.  Despite being a horrendous American Avengers movie, the cultural experience of going to a film here in Namibia made it well worthwhile.  Popcorn was served only  half-full – the people applying all manner of different flavored toppings before handing it back and having it filled completely.  The movie theatre was packed small with people of every shade of color, all talking in multiple languages and often during the movie that had terrible sound quality.  I still enjoyed myself thoroughly, especially in my new found friendship with Chris-Lei who later walked me back to my hostel.

It had been a lovely and refreshing change of pace to stay here a while.  But it was time to head back out now into the southern desert.

Overlanding Through Tanzania

18 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Tanzania

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Tours, Transport, Travel Days

The market in Marangu

The market in Marangu

After getting back to our campsite at Snake Park in Arusha, we were all pretty wiped from our three days in the Serengeti and pretty much passed out in our tents early in the evening.  We were facing a few travel days coming up before arriving in Dar Es Salaam for one night prior to our mini-trip of five nights on the island of Zanzibar.

Travel days are quite arduous.  Sitting on the truck for hours at a time, sometimes with very limited or no toilet stops (or having to go on the side of the highway) and limited options for food along the way is a challenge.  The heat has been a difficult adjustment for me – it has been over 100 degrees since we left the slightly cooler foothills of Kilimanjaro.  As has the dust – the efforts to keep skin, clothes, tent, feet, and hands clean is a constantly losing battle.

I’m very grateful that I invested in a Kindle Paperwhite before the trip, and I’ve already finished reading two books.  Otherwise, I find it literally impossible to nap on the truck due to the heat and the noise of 15 individuals talking, playing music etc.

The three travel days were nicely broken up by a morning excursion in the town of Marangu.   A few of us opted to do a small trek to a waterfall and learn a little about the local indigenous tribe – the Chaga.

At the night market in Zanzibar

At the night market in Zanzibar

We found ourselves walking through small farms and houses in this mostly rural village (also the starting point for the most popular route up Kilimanjaro) and getting to observe how the locals live and keep their chickens and cows.  Vegetation was lush and the temperature already searing by mid-morning as we made the steep descent to the refreshing waterfall.  We eagerly got into our bathing suits and had a swim in the glacially fed waters, taking a jaunt upstream with our guide, Thomas, to a natural water spring where we could drink free of the worry of any contaminants.

After walking back up to the village, we were introduced to the history of the Chaga people who came to live here in the Kilimanjaro region of Tanzania more than 700 years ago.  We visited one of their re-created grass huts and saw examples of their weaponry, masonry, pottery, furniture and artwork all masterfully explained to us by an enthusiastic descendant and proprietor of the museum.  Later we descended into a cave that the Chaga people used as a hideout during the war with the invading Masaai who came from the north to take over these lands.  As the Masaai were tall warriors and used jumping when they fought, the caves offered the Chaga people a distinct advantage, and were able to hide from their enemies and kill them more easily if they attempted to enter the cave.

After about a five hour drive, we arrived in Zebra camp where we ate a simple dinner and I took a shower by scooting under a running tap in the dark (the showers and the lights were not functioning – fun!) and went to sleep after setting up our tents, forced to use our rain fly despite the heat because of the high winds.

Overlooking the Ngorongoro Crater

Overlooking the Ngorongoro Crater

The following day involved a very long day of driving into Dar Es Salaam, which to date, might be the most congested, polluted, and scariest looking place I’ve been to.  When we arrived in the urban area, our guide Tabitha (who is Kenyan) told us to lean out of both sides of the truck and keep an active eye out for people who would run up to the truck and try to open one of the doors on the side where we kept our gear and food – in an effort to dissuade them from trying to rob the truck.  Unfortunately, a couple of guys actually ran under the truck as we were stuck sitting in idle traffic and stole the dipstick from the engine.

Crazy, huh?  Apparently such a part is valuable enough that they would risk their lives to take it.

This is not a city where you would wander around, especially by yourself, and even more especially as a woman.

The lovely beach outside of Dar Es Salaam

The lovely beach outside of Dar Es Salaam

Luckily, our night before heading to Zanzibar was spent at a lovely campsite next to the beach on the outskirts of the city center.  I was thrilled when I saw the lovely white sand, swaying palm trees, pool and bar welcoming us from the long, hot, dusty journey.

I jumped into the water well before I set up my tent and it felt amazing.  The ocean was actually like bath water – so warm!  After two rum and cokes (with safe ice!!) I was feeling a little more like myself again.  Though the amount of attention I get as a white woman swimming in a sea full of black men is rather disconcerting.  It is about as opposite of an experience as I could possibly have to doing the same thing in Seattle.  Still, it is flattering to be reminded that I am desirable, even if it is just for being “different”, or being perceived as having money?

In the morning, we took a tuk-tuk (yay!!) to a ferry, walked 15 minutes with our bags wrapped closely to our chests, to the big ferry that we would take to Zanzibar.  We have so far spent one night in Stone Town – so named for its Arabic (Oman) architecture and history.

I will fill you in on Zanzibar in my next post!  Incidentally, I wrote my post on the Serengeti on another person’s computer and they didn’t bring the laptop to Zanzibar – therefore, I will be posting out of sequence 🙂

The Serengeti – Meeting Simba at Pride Rock

17 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Tanzania

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Animals, Tours

Simba

Simba

Arriving in Africa was a whirlwind of activity and not a great deal of sleep. With an 11 hour time difference as well, it was difficult to get any quality sleep, despite being exhausted. Day 1 involved a long drive in our truck to Snake Park (the name of the campsite outside Arusha) and the very next morning, we were picked up in two safari jeeps for our 3 day/2 night excursion to the Ngorongoro Crater and Serengeti National Park.

That trip was an incredible experience, especially considering the abundance of wildlife that we were able to observe. However, it has set in motion what is at least true up until now – Africa is a series of incredible pleasures that are experienced only with a measure of simultaneous suffering.

Hyenas with carriion

Hyenas with carriion

To paint a picture of the good the bad and the ugly for you: we spent many long hours driving in the jeep over extremely bumpy and rocky terrain. Our guide, Benjamin, explained that it was simply a “free back massage”. Temperatures would soar to well into the high 80s/low 90s during the heat of the day, the air is very dry and we would often bake and sunburn just from sitting in the jeeps themselves. For me, however, the greatest challenge to my enjoyment has been the dust. The sheer volume of dust that envelopes us at all times so far in Tanzania is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. My clothes are literally filthy by the end of the afternoon – I wring black water from them as soon as they are wet. I’ve started just wearing my clothes in the shower and using them as washcloths as a way of cleaning them of the dust. This is by no means the worst, however. The worst thing I have to suffer through is trying to keep my contact lenses clean in this dusty environment. The first two days in the Serengeti, my eyes hurt so bad I could barely see out of them. I would use eye drops every few hours with little relief. Switching from my two week lenses to my ultra thin monthly extended wear pair has helped a little, but it is still a constant battle.

The dust and dirt is making camping that much more challenging as well. On my first night in Arusha, I didn’t use the rain fly because it was so warm and the skies are clear (the rainy season, which was meant to have started two months ago has yet to make an appearance.) However, a dust storm developed in the middle of the night and blew half the campsite dirt onto my tent floor. With my backpack unzipped inside my tent – all the red dust got into my bag and all over my clothes. Having learned my lesson, I now leave my big bag in the truck and only bring a change of clothes into my tent with me at night. It is still a challenge to try and keep anything clean – your feet, your face, your skin, your sleeping bag, your backpack – everything is just caked in dust and dirt.

one of my favorite shots

one of my favorite shots

I am guessing that I will just have to get used to it, and almost every aspect of this trip is an adjustment – from sleeping in a tent every night for 56 days straight, to setting up and taking down camp each day, to cooking for 15 people when its your “cook group’s” turn – to getting to know 15 very different and unique individuals and having to get along as a team, respecting the group dynamic.

With that being said, the 3 day excursion was wonderful. After a very very long drive leaving at the ass raping crack of dawn, we arrived at the lookout over the Ngorongoro Crater – a 300 square kilometer reserve formed by the extinct crater whose walls have naturally formed a barrier to the 42,000 animals that have made it’s floor their permanent home. Looking out over the crater you could see the green/brown expanse’s shape and crater-like structure – but it took on an entirely different meaning from the inside after we descended its steep walls.

Very soon we were watching groups of zebra, Hyena and water buffalo foraging and drinking along the shores of lakes, dramatically set against the expanse of green. However, as we got further into the crater – we were soon witnessing a spectacle of creatures – thousands of them all gathered in the same area of fertile grass around a watering hole – Wilderbeest, zebra, Thomson Gazelle, Hartesbeast, Elephant, Rhino, Hyena, Hippos, buffalos, and other antelopes. It was a spectacle that made you feel that you were literally participating in an episoe of Planet Earth, narrated by David Attenborough.

We were also lucky enough to observe two lion prides during our game drive in the crater, and even more rare – we got to witness a Servel cat stalking it’s prey from a very close distance.

giraffes at sunset

giraffes at sunset

Stunned from the experience, we began our now 3 hour drive to the Serengeti, stopping briefly at the entrance to file paperwork and make our camping arrangements. We would be camping at a bush camp – with no fences and nothing separating us from the wildlife all around. I have to admit this was particularly unnerving, because our tents did not have a zipper that went entirely around the outside door, and one of the members of our group, an experienced Safari guide herself, insisted that a hyena could easily just make it’s way into one of our tents if it thought it smelled juicy inside. Even more disturbing, our guides warned us to be sure and check for signs of “eyes looking back at us in the dark” if we were to leave our tent in the night, or when we went to use the bathroom in the night or early morning. Apparently, a few years back, a lion decided to go into the women’s shower room in search of water.

Probably the highlight of the day was spotting a family of Cheetahs hanging out in the tall grass by a large acacia tree. Mom, dad, and baby cheetah were taking it in turn to roll, stretch, sleep and walk around the base of the tree. Just when we thought nothing much more in the way of activity was going to pass, baby cheetah decided he was going to climb the tree.

According to our guide, Benjamin, Cheetahs do NOT climb trees. He has never seen a cheetah climb a tree, not in his 5 years of being a safari guide.

Baby cheetah got about half way up the tree and then started to meow, almost like a domestic cat, as it struggled to get back down to his parents. It was such a special moment to witness that I immediately teared up and then noticed that my guide was emotional as well, especially since he shared that it is textbook that Cheetahs do NOT climb trees.

We were oh so very lucky to witness such a thing.

Our night at the bush camp thankfully passed without incident, and I found my earplugs to not only be a welcome barrier to the sounds of howling hyenas in the night, but they served to drown out the sounds of snoring campers all around me.

The following morning, with only one missing animal from the ‘Big Five’ to spot – we came upon a leopard snoozing on top of a rock. She was stunningly beautiful. Unfortunately, not so beautiful was a truck full of boozing youngsters who thought it would be approprate to start playing their music on their truck and having a party in the middle of the game drive. Zach, a member of our group asked them to turn it off, rather sternly. They turned it down, to which he remarked, ‘Off. Not down, Asshole!’ – which we all got rather a kick out of.

The Serengeti Wilderbeest migration is not yet in full swing because of the delayed rain, but we still did witness thousands of them galloping alongside their zebra counterparts heading to waterholes in the early morning mist, getting stuck in the mud, and screaming in their dumb fashion to get away. They were quite a sight.

A monkey also decided that he wanted to climb up on the roof of our vehicle and I shrieked with panic as I imagined contracting rabies if the thing got into the cab and started getting defensive. Luckily, the monkey got scared and scampered away.

It was an incredible 3 days. In the end we saw almost every form of wildlife that you could see in those parks – even Hyena scavenging on a recent kill. The only thing we missed was perhaps a rhino doing a full on song and dance show…

Exhausted from our 5am starts, I went to ‘bed’ right after dinner upon our return to Arusha and had myself some super crazy Larium dreams.

For those of you who don’t know – Larium, or Mefloquine is a weekly malaria medication which can affect one’s emotional state and/or dream cycle. That night I dreamt that our safari vehicle drove from Paris, across a glacier, to Cedar Rapids, Iowa and then back to Africa where I was falling down a raging rapid alongside a lion.

Then again, my days had been almost as crazy as those dreams.

Going to Africa – Feeling the Fear and Doing it Anyway

15 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by Anita in Kenya

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Opinion Pieces, Tours

First day of Safari in the Serengeti

First day of Safari in the Serengeti

2014 started out in a very promising manner.   By mid-April, I would have said I had almost everything I’d always wanted – A great job where I was appreciated, challenged, earning a decent living and enjoying fantastic colleagues and a boss I admired and respected.  I was in a committed relationship that seemed to have real, long-term potential.  I was singing regularly with my band and learning how to climb in a year-long mountaineering course that I’d started in January.  I was a new homeowner since the prior Thanksgiving and was loving my townhouse and that sense of ownership.  I had great friends and was loving life.

My good-bye dinner at Nue in Capitol Hill

My good-bye dinner at Nue in Capitol Hill

All of that changed abruptly in May .  Life has been a series of tough emotional challenges ever since.  My job and relationship ended.  I travelled to South America for a few months to clear my head.  I caught Dengue Fever and was sick for the better part of a month.  I met someone in Colombia and foolishly started a relationship that ended in the kind of painful and explosive drama that Lifetime movies are written about.  I started a new job at a small firm in October, only to be let go on New Year’s Eve (for unclear reasons, oddly enough – especially to my employer), suffering through three months of one of the most isolating, self-esteem crushing  office cultures of my career.  My father’s twin brother suffered a stroke and died in a prolonged and agonizing way on Christmas Eve.  My adopted “family” in Seattle, The Zimmermans, moved to Florida and I was left to spend the holidays without them.

Yeah. December was particularly rough.

At Check-in at Sea Tac

At Check-in at Sea Tac

And thus, I found myself with long, empty days of job searching nothingness in January of 2015.  A kind of numbness set in.  I tried very hard to establish a sort of routine to keep me sane.  I would try to go to the gym every morning, and then follow it with breakfast and a few hours’ of job searching.  I would then try to make sure I had at least one social contact per day with a friend, or perhaps a date (online dating and job searching are eerily similar in many respects, and it made sense to apply my skill set to both pursuits simultaneously,) or at the very least, go to a coffee shop and work if I had no other social engagements.  Days when I didn’t want to leave the house ended up just compounding the sense of isolation, failure, and ambiguity that my life had become.

In fact, ambiguity seems to be the order of the day at the moment and I’m trying to learn how to embrace it instead of allow it to choke me in it’s paralyzing vice.  Why events have played out the way they have is a source of daily mental vexation.  Wondering and fearing what might lie ahead has had the effect of pulling me closer to those little things that feel safe and comfortable.

Like my couch, for example.  My couch is a five foot square space of safety.  I am drawn to it and it has become increasingly difficult to leave it.  My gym, my car, my local Trader Joe’s – these have all become my emotional crutch that help me cope with the overwhelming  amount of change that I’ve experienced these past nine months.

The inside of our Oasis Overland Tour Truck

The inside of our Oasis Overland Tour Truck

Which is why, after two months’ of job searching, I feel it is time to remove the safety wheels.  Rip off the band aid.  Stir things up again.  I’m becoming too comfortable in my own space – its time to go travel again.  That, along with my belief that it’s going to be too difficult to secure employment in my industry over tax season is the reason I started thinking about going to Africa.

However, my emotional ties to routine, to my couch, to not having things “change” again – have also resulted in horrendous indecision when it comes to trying to make plans for this trip.  Since mid-January, I’ve probably booked and cancelled 4 sets of flights.  I was all set to take this 3 1/2 month odyssey on February 16, only to receive a call about a very promising job interview on the 14th, and I cancelled again.

The truth is, I have had this trip to Africa in the back of my mind for the better part of the last decade.  My plan had been to take a sabbatical in my 40th year (fast approaching) and travel from Cairo to Cape Town.  My logic with my employer a few years’ ago, was that I could take maternity leave, but just not have the baby:-)  They found that amusing, but also workable.  Life is so funny.  I would never have imagined in my early twenties that I wouldn’t be married and with a family of my own by the time I was 40.  The “when will it happen” has morphed into “IF it will happen”.  This trip was going to be my consolation prize.

And so it begins...Day 1 of the 56 day Nairobi - Cape Town Adventure

And so it begins…Day 1 of the 56 day Nairobi – Cape Town Adventure

If I couldn’t have what I want most in life, I’ll take travel.

And so, finding myself yet again glued to my couch, I made the decision last weekend, to make my dream a reality, and put my faith in my long held desire to go to Africa .  Despite the intense fear I felt, I had to believe that I’d be glad I made the choice once I got on the plane.  I thank my friend Jerri who literally made me stay with her through midnight on Saturday so that I wouldn’t go home and cancel my flights again.

I got on that plane on Thursday and now find myself writing this in a bar at a campsite in Arusha, Tanzania.  I am horrendously jet-lagged and still haven’t adjusted my head space to where I am and what I am doing here.

But it’s too late to turn back.

It’s time to turn inwards.  To let go of fear.  To embrace change.  To embrace ambiguity.  Focus on my most important relationship.  The one I have with myself.

I hope you will enjoy the journey with me.

(Incidentally, my laptop decided that after working ok for four years, it was going to stop functioning on my first day of this trip.  I am going to be forced to borrow computers and/or use internet cafes, so the posts will be limited and might not contain photos – sorry!)

Medellin – Drugs, Modern Life and…Hippos?

31 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by Anita in Colombia, South America

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Animals, Cities, Culture, Tours

 

Medellin – Modern and as colorful as it’s unfortunate past

I was pissed when I arrived in Medellin.  The bus journey here from Manizales was supposed to take five hours and it took six and a half because we were stuck behind a town’s Saturday night “procession”, the bus driver insisted on keeping his front two windows rolled down completely nullifying any cooling effect the air conditioning might have brought those suffering in the back, a really cute guy sitting in the front got out only an hour into the journey (obliterating my plan to ask for assistance on arrival and thereby become acquainted,) there was a deafening hip hop concert taking place at the bus station upon arrival, and to top it all off, once I’d found the taxi rank, after five or so sweat-inducing laps of the entire bus station with all my luggage, listening to the thwamp thwamp of the loudspeakers and some dude screaming at the crowd instead of singing, it took seven cab drivers before I found one who actually knew where The Black Sheep Hostel was located.  Well, he didn’t know where it was.  But his response was at least more than a shrug of a shoulder and silent dismissal; he was willing to wait and look at my guidebook map and hear me explain the actual address.

Joggers on Avenida Poblado

Joggers on Avenida Poblado

Cab drivers in Colombia, I have concluded, will do anything to ensure that you take a different cab.

Now I’d left the girls at the beautiful Hacienda Venezia because it was Saturday and I’d heard a lot about how legendary Saturday nights are in Medellin – the dancing, the music.  It’s supposed to be a really great night out with the locals.  By the time I arrived at the hostel it was 8:30 pm, and guess what?  They didn’t have my reservation and they were full. So I was sent to the Casa Blanca just down the road – which turned out to be a shitty hostel filled with very pale 18 year old English college students, wearing dirty clothes sitting around plastic tables gulping cheap vodka with Fanta and shrieking with laughter.  I enquired around, meekly, to see if anyone was up for heading out on the town, but not getting any response, I decided that I’d had a long day and got a private teeny tiny room and passed out.

Park in Poblado

Park in Poblado

I immediately regretted my decision the next day when I re-packed my stuff and checked back in to The Black sheep, only to hear and see everyone talking enthusiastically about what a great night out had been had by all.  Well, surely Colombians go out on Sundays too?

No, apparently. They do not.

Colorful bars in the Zona Rosa - which I didn't go out in:-(

Colorful bars in the Zona Rosa – which I didn’t go out in:-(

After finding some breakfast, I asked the sardonic Kiwi at reception for ideas on what I might do on a Sunday in this city.  He suggested a walk around The Poblado (the modern side of town where the hostel was located) and a visit to the botanical gardens for a quiet nice afternoon.  Since there wouldn’t be much open today, that seemed like a good plan and I quietly also devised a plan to go watch a movie that evening and treat myself to some nice air conditioning, popcorn and diet coke (bliss – a fast cure for the little bit of home sickness I felt for modern life)

Kiddie play area at the mall

Kiddie play area at the mall

I was thoroughly impressed right away by the city.  It was clean, modern, bright and had well landscaped public spaces and parks.  On this Sunday, the main ‘Avenida’ in Poblado had been closed to traffic and I joined the throngs of joggers, cyclists and families taking a Sunday stroll, visiting a lovely market along the way and relishing a Maracuya juice.

Piranhas at the Aquarium

Piranhas at the Aquarium

The other impressive feature in Medellin is the Metro.  On the walking tour (which I would take the following day) our guide explained that it was the building of the metro that gave this city the glimmer of hope it needed to pull itself out of it’s horrific history of drug violence and murder of the 80’s and 90’s, and give it’s citizens something to be very proud of.  And they are – on the metro today you will see no sign of graffiti or trash anywhere.  It’s extremely efficient, and what I loved most of all – it connects all neighborhoods with the economic core centers of the city for the same price.  This means that someone living in the poorest neighborhood, which is typically far away from downtown, is not forced to pay more money for a longer commute, thereby excluding them from lots of job opportunities.

Why couldn’t they instigate this same concept in, say, London?  Or New York?

Me on the free walking tour - great concept! If you enjoy the tour - you give a great tip!

Me on the free walking tour – great concept! If you enjoy the tour – you give a great tip!

In any case, I rode the metro each of the four days I was in Medellin and though it still involved a lot of walking to and from each station, it was a highly efficient, though jam-packed nut-to-butt experience.  I rode to the Botanical Gardens only to discover that there was some sort of massive music festival going on, together with the typically deafening music and pulsing beat that Colombians seem so attracted to.  It was so packed full of people, but I persevered looking for the orchid complex, only to be told that they had been removed for the festival!

Administrative center sculpture, which is also a memorial for it's artist - his ashes are laid to rest here too

Administrative center sculpture, which is also a memorial for it’s artist – his ashes are laid to rest here too

Statue by the beloved Colombian artist Botero in front of City Hall

Statue by the beloved Colombian artist Botero in front of City Hall

So I opted instead to visit the aquarium which also surprisingly was a Science Center, not unlike the one in Seattle or Portland.  My cost of admission also included a short movie about the inner world, and entrance to the many exhibits on the science of the human body, reptiles, football and so on.

The aquarium itself was very impressive, focusing mostly on freshwater fish, they had very large tanks full of fish that you might find in the Amazon River, including piranha.

At the movies that night, I got the last seat to the Greg Kinnear flick called “Heaven is for Real”.  It was so strange to be transported back to the US and Nebraska culture with a Colombian catholic audience.  They seemed to really enjoy the movie, and my aching feet were very grateful for the respite as well.

Catedral Metropolitana

Catedral Metropolitana

Upon returning to my hostel (to which I walked from the mall in the dark, feeling surprisingly safe as I did so completely alone) I found the hostel cat, Rufus, asleep on my bed.  It was lucky for Rufus that I like cats and we snuggled up all night, waking throughout when Rufus needed more attention and stroking which he indicated with a jabbing paw to my neck.

Once again, I didn’t really connect with anyone in particular in Medellin.  I spent most of my days alone or in tour groups, which was fine.  I did a walking tour with Real City Tours, which I highly recommend.  Their owner, Pablo, has lived and studied in France, the UK and Hungary and at only 26, shows a thriving entrepreneurial spirit that is extremely refreshing compared to the service-absent mentality of almost everyone else here involved in the booming tourism industry.

At 26, Pablo, as well as Paola, the guide I had on my Pablo Escobar tour the day before, each remember very well a Medellin that during their childhood, was the murder capital of the world.  Shootings and bombings were daily events.  People didn’t go out at night. Everyone lived in fear.  Those in powerful positions in the cartels, at that time, were literally untouchable.  Anyone that stood in their way, a politician who spoke out for change, a police officer, any man, woman or child that happened to be in the general vicinity of someone they saw as a threat to their flow of substantial drug cash was killed without regard for any consequences.  They were above the law.  Paola, in particular spoke with an extreme amount of passion about seeing people shot to death on the street, her two uncles among the victims.  She is obviously still extremely bitter, and was much less optimistic about her country’s ability to fight corruption still inherent in the system.

House where Pablo Escobar was shot

House where Pablo Escobar was shot

Pablo, on the other hand, believes that things are really improving and that there is a future now for the youth of Medellin, a chance to get educated and improve their lives free of that kind of fear.  Much of the drug violence has moved up the chain to the distribution phase, the majority of which now occurs in Mexico.  Most of the coca plants are now being grown in Bolivia and Peru because it’s cheaper to do so.  The city has invested a lot of money into it’s infrastructure and now builds libraries and community centers in neighborhoods that used to be too dangerous to walk through in the daylight.

Of course, Pablo helped to dispel the myth that is still so pervasive in the world, that Colombia is such a “dangerous” country.  It’s not dangerous anymore.  Sure, there are areas deep in the jungle one would still want to avoid, but here is the issue.  Drugs and their production have resulted in the kind of bloodshed that could be likened to a civil war – countless hundreds of thousands have died.  However, until the demand lessens or ceases, there will still be a fight to supply.  In other words, it could be argued that those that bought and still buy the cocaine (which incidentally is only about 2-3% pure by the time it reaches, say, the States) are the ones with blood on their hands.  That’s where the money came from to buy the bombs, the guns, and created the wealth enjoyed the most notorious drug lord of all – Pablo Escobar.

My group on the walking tour

My group on the walking tour

The tour I took about him was very enlightening.  Not only did I learn about the Drug trade from this perspective, but out guide also talked about the rich plentiful resources that are still available here in this country.  Colombia is number five in the world for country’s with the most freshwater.  There are minerals to mine, incredible flora and fauna not found anywhere else in the world.  Including incidentally, Hippos.

What? – you may ask.

Well, along with seeing many of Pablo’s organizations’ buildings, the house where he was finally caught and shot dead, his mansions, and his final resting place (the most visited grave site in South America after Eva Peron) we also learned about his hacienda out in the countryside, which among it’s lavish, opulent staples was a zoo which Pablo insisted should also contain hippos which he had flown in from Africa.

After he was caught, the police seized his compound and rounded up most of the animals and found homes for them all in zoos across the continent.  But the hippos were too big to move.  They figured that if they just left them, they’d wander off and die from hunger somewhere.

But they didn’t.  They survived.  And reproduced.

Me, trying to Salsa with Fabrizio

Me, trying to Salsa with Fabrizio

There are now approximately 40 hippos roaming the countryside of north east Colombia and if they continue to do so, will start wreaking havoc on the local animal and human populations.

My time in Medellin wasn’t all learning about history.  I also took a private Salsa lesson and hit the dance floor with Lillian and Fabrizio at Eslabon Prendido on Tuesday night.  Despite the fact that the place was packed, I was pretty proud that I managed the steps without too much fumbling or looking stupid.  I will have to find another place in Bogota later in the trip where there is more room to spread out.  I had the typical Paisa dish of “heart attack on a plate” better known as Bandeja Paisa with a couple of boys after the walking tour.

I also learned that the poor service in restaurants doesn’t just stop at the food trying to make it’s way to your table.  Every morning, after my Rufus cuddles, I’d plod on down the street to this little coffee shop for breakfast.  One day, I just upped and left and forgot to pay!  I didn’t realize until that afternoon, at which point I returned to buy a brownie and settle my bill.

They had no idea that I hadn’t paid. They didn’t even care.  It was all very strange.

I enjoyed my four days there. I would have to say, that of all the cities I’ve visited in South America – this is the first one that I could see myself living in.

The Galapagos Part III – Highlights from Under the Water

22 Tuesday Jul 2014

Posted by Anita in South America, The Galapagos

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Animals, Sailing, Snorkeling, Tours

Me snorkeling

Me snorkeling

By far, my highlights of the Galapagos came from what I experienced and saw under the water.  For the majority of the snorkel sites, there was not a great deal of color, per se, except for the fish themselves, this not being a coral reef based archipelago.  However, there were two sites in particular where I got to see some pretty amazing underwater landscapes of life, and they left me longing to have my scuba tanks strapped to my back so that I could get a better look..

Gorgeous Kicker Rock

Gorgeous Kicker Rock

Shark at Kicker Rock

Shark at Kicker Rock

Kicker Rock

Kicker Rock

The first stand out location was Kicker Rock – an anomalous small island jutting out of the ocean all on its own.  The rock itself was split in two, with a nice swimmable though choppy channel separating the two islands that made up the formation.  As soon as we were dropped off in the dinghy, I knew it was going to be a unique snorkel just based on the depth and visibility of the water.  Almost immediately in the channel I spotted several turtles, some of enormous proportions.  Then we saw sharks – lots of them, both white and black tip.  There was something so very eerie about looking down into the great blue depths, not seeing anything else in terms of form, just shards of light piercing the color creating lighter streaks that then formed a backdrop that tricked your eyes into questioning whether that sleek silver creature swimming beneath you is in fact, a shark.

Further around the rock, once we had swam through the channel, you could see a wall of rock that was teeming with sea life.  Here there was an abundance of fish, turtles, and a few eagle rays.  At the entrance to a cave, there must have been some anomaly in the nutritional content of the water because we came upon a school of fish, so dense and cloud like that it defied belief.  There were thousands of these grayish fish all clumped together such that it reminded me of the fish in Finding Nemo who form the directions to the East Australian Current using their bodies.  And just when it was registering, a cool light silver shadow would appear beneath the fish and glide among them, parting a path for itself as it made bits way through the school, both beautiful and frightening to see.  I’ve included the amazing video footage that Narissa managed to capture while we were watching this.

Puffed up Puffer fish

Puffed up Puffer fish

Me and a giant school of fish

Me and a giant school of fish

Another similar snorkel site was off the coast of Floreana island and is known as the Devil’s crown.  It too had strong currents and choppy waves, but with the depth of the water and being fed directly by the Humboldt current, it was one of the most biologically diverse I’ve seen underwater.  So many fish, rays, turtles and sharks, all congregating in one place at one time, the water a darker but clear blue.

Sea Lion underwater

Sea Lion underwater

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOther high points included the chance to swim and interact with the very playful sealions who sometimes came a little too close for comfort.  Narissa even had one of them bite her fin and then her leg underwater.  That made several of us quite nervous but we swam with them nonetheless.  I’ve included some videos here for you to see just how fearless these creatures were of us, and how they almost had puppy-like qualities, wanting to play fetch with a sea shell in the water.

Penguins are increasingly rare in the Galapagos and we managed to only spot around six during our entire week, but again, Narissa was lucky enough to capture a single shot of a penguin swimming underwater.  I didn’t spot the penguin, but I did come face to face with a marine iguana while snorkeling off of Chinese hat, and that was something very unexpected and so had me catching my breath.

Penguin sighting!

Penguin sighting!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOn our very last morning, we left the boat at six am to have a short tour of the mangroves on Santa Cruz island.  There we watched many many turtles swimming as they awoke after a night of sleeping underwater, not surfacing at all for air for almost 8 or 9 hours.

Turtle

Turtle

The only famed Galapagos creature that I didn’t get to see underwater was the Hammerhead shark.  I would really have liked to see one of them, but a dive is necessary as they typically stay at depths in excess of 50 feet.

 

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anitagotravel

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