The Pearl of Africa July 31, 2012

Below is the final, and very long blog of this trip. It might be a bit to get through, I wanted to finish before our trip ended, but if you read through it you’ll find my insights to Ugandan culture, being charged by wild Rhinos while on foot, the most powerful waterfall in the world, nearly escaping a bee swarm, and being surrounded by enraged chimpanzees. So here you go:

07.17.12

We woke up to darkness in Bukoba, Tanzania. It was a very early bus that was to take us across the border into Uganda. The ever persistent fog of flies zipped wildly around the multi-colored signs outside the hotel. In Tanzania the signs of nearly every single place of business are sponsored by either alcohol, soda, cellular service, or banks; sometimes all of the above. I assume businesses receive these signs for free because even this tiny beach hotel has no fewer than five lit, bug covered signs displaying the Spice Beach Hotel name along with Tusker Beer, Coca-Cola, and MTN Mobile Money.

This I pondered with my half-awake brain while waiting for our early taxi to the bus station. Once at the station, a very eccentric man proceeded to  wrap our backpacks with black plastic trash bags. He somehow convinced us this was necessary to prevent them getting wet and dirty while in storage on the bus. Why we didn’t stop him sooner is beyond me, because when he then asked for an exorbitant fee, which we were far from willing to pay, we then had to remove the plastic wrapping and give it all back to him. This was silly and altogether unnecessary.

The Tanzanian-Ugandan border came upon us quickly amidst a small dusty town. We paid our $50 entry fee in a $100 bill from 1999. Why am I telling you the date you might ask? Because not five minutes later the customs official comes running out of the immigration office explaining the bill was too old and he needed one past 2006. We have read about this phenomenon and were preparedly able to produce a newer bill. The logic for this is completely beyond us. A 1999 bill and a 2006 bill are both in the same series of printed $100′s, but for some reason East Africans (including banks as we would later discover) have some unexplainable belief that a 2006 bill is unforgeable, while a 1999 bill is as good as monopoly money.

As soon as we crossed the border we met the single friendliest police officer I have ever come across. He guaranteed us that our stay in Uganda would be fantastic, gave some advice on what we should see, and expressed jealousy that we were able to do such a great trip in his country. His massive grin, friendly demeanor, and near flawless English was a good indicator of things to come.

Soon we were dropped off at a crossroads in a city called Masaka. Declining an offer to ride in a van full of bricks we hopped on a bus where we would stand in the aisle for the next two hours. At least in the brick van we would have had seats, just more bricks.

While our tickets assured us that our journey would take us to the very distant city of Kabale, the bus stopped at a city halfway, Mbarara, and everyone exited. This left us confused as we were under the distinct impression that we had many more miles to go.

The series of events that followed still confuse us; they involve a man taking our tickets and giving us half our money back, 10,000 Ugandan Shillings, then getting thrown into a Matatu, the new Ugandan word for Dala-Dala, which in English is “cramped-ass Chinese-built minivan”. Jessica satiated a begging, drugged-out local man through the window with a cookie and we were on our way.

From here things were somehow more confusing. Lots of yelling in an even more foreign language, our driver disappearing randomly in a fit of rage, and replaced by a man in a leather jacket (in this heat?) who was either drunk, sick, or both; this did not bode well. But we just rolled with it, because hell, what else are we going to do?

The next six, that’s right six hours, sucked. Dusty dirt roads under construction caused mad congestion, plus the Matatu driver (I’m pretty sure those are just sick hiccups) stopping every ten minutes to drop someone off, pick someone up, or buy onions, apples, or bananas from street vendors. Each time he changes gears the stick shift rubs roughly against my leg, jolting me into the rather large mustachioed gentlemen to my left, who by the way, provided excellent conversation. Jessica fared better in the rear because men are scared to get too close to her, so she has a nice bubble of space while they smush even closer to one another. Why are we sitting separately? Just one of the many fun mysteries of the day!

A more interesting part of the ride was when Matatus would occasionally pass opposite and warn our driver of police checkpoints ahead. Since our vehicle is overcrowded by about four people past the max, the Matatu would stop, let out four people, and pay boda-bodas (motorbikes) to carry them past the checkpoint, whereafter they would dismount and come back in the vehicle. The one time a cop stopped us without warning, he had a huge grin, and “chastized” the driver “don’t let me catch you over capacity again!” (I think they were friends).

We did arrive to Kabale alive however. A friendly taxi driver grabbed us up and took us to a hotel sitting on the hills overlooking Lake Bunyoni, our stunningly gorgeous destination. The view would have to be enjoyed more thoroughly at a future moment however as my excellent bladder and bowel control decided 11 hours of bumping up and down was about the maximum my body could handle. Jess at least had the sense to go 8 hours ago.

The room was expensive, but worth the price almost solely for the view. The meal not as much worth the price, except the delicious cooked crayfish in a fresh avocado!

07.18.12

It was quickly apparent that the decision to embark on this epic journey to Lake Bunyoni was a good one. Walking down to the lake through a quiet forest was serene, but that paled in comparison to phenomenal wood canoe journey from the lake shore to our island retreat.

Our destination is known for the ‘backpackers paradise’ hostel; Bayoona Amagara. It was full however so as we disembarked we were met by two very friendly men, Moses, and the other everyone just called Manager. They showed us to our very humble, but extremely affordable room. One week prior the bathroom had collapsed into a big sinkhole, so our toilet was a mud hut with a hole in the ground. But the hostel grounds had cute goats everywhere and bunnies…totally worth it.

We got the best of both worlds though. Our hostel only provided rooms, everything else we received at what turned out to actually be a backpackers paradise, Bayoona Amagara. All structures made with sustainable local materials, all power from solar, composting toilets, solar showers, cool communal dining room, and exemplary food!

For the first time in a long time we also came in contact with other backpackers, as opposed to the usual tourists on packaged tours. We ended up spending the day making friends, chatting, eating and drinking. We took one quick tour of the tiny island with our new British friend Andrew and an incredibly friendly local named Fiona showed us around. She showed us how local buildings were built with eucalyptus wood, how the communities cook meals together, and all the various types of banana and other crops they grow. She was awesome.

At night we stayed up late with our new friends, then with some beers in us we hiked 15min the dark back to our room on the other side of the island. If you told me 2 months ago I would be hiking in the dark on an island in the middle of nowhere in Uganda, I would have thought you were crazy, but this place is a serene, unspoilt paradise; very safe feeling. Upon arrival to Green Village, Moses, our extremely Christian host (we’ll touch more on that later), was waiting up for us, made sure we had a pleasant day, then we headed to bed!

07.19.12

We woke to Moses dancing and singing to gospel music. After breakfast we hopped in a dugout canoe with him to take us to a hiking spot. Everything with Moses has to be a proverb, or something biblical related. We remain polite, which is easy because he is so unbelievably friendly. Jess and I taking turns to paddle; Moses doing most of the work, we took about an hour to get to a new part of the mainland.

Moses waited with the canoe as we disembarked and began hiking towards a peak. A local man quickly latched on as our unofficial, unasked-for guide, which tends to happen no matter where in the world we go. The hike was stunning. Super cute little farming huts dotted the agricultural hillside.

What Moses didn’t tell us is that where we currently were hiking is not, in any way, a common place for tourists to hike. What that meant for us is that everyone we passed was wide-eyed and whispered “wazungu” quietly under their breath. Soon we had a following of incredibly curious children. That gathering grew exponentially as the hike continued. Some of our entourage walked nervously behind, and some super close behind me. On random occasion I would jump back and shout “BOO”. Terror splattered on their faces every time, which shortly thereafter erupted into fits of laughter.

The apex of wonder and excitement came when on the opposite hill one small boy came romping in our direction, paying attention only to his footfalls. When his head picked up for just one moment, he stopped dead in his tracks, spotting perhaps the first white people he had ever seen. You would think he spotted a flying pink unicorn with how loudly and excitedly he erupted screaming “WAZUNGU, WAZUNGU!!!!” and ran back up the hill. No fewer than ten new children stormed with him down the hill towards us, and soon we were surrounded! They all loved having their picture taken, and then us showing the picture back to them as they excitedly named of each person in the picture.

The barrage of children may well be one of the highlights of our trip. They would try to touch Jessica’s hair, hold her hand, while I kept making funny noises and faces, scaring them with “boo” (every time without fail they got scared, then would excitedly repeat on eachother), and I loved showing them the ever classic thumb-removal trick. This small hiking trip turned unexpectedly awesome.

The village was truly sad to see us go. Our guide made us promise to call him if we returned and he would have the children prepare dancing and song for us, and the villagers would make us a feast. This was all just too much! We were tempted to stay another day just to take him up on his offer.

I gave our guide a bit of a tip and Moses was patiently waiting for us at the shore. On the way back he took us by “punishment island” where unwed pregnant women used to be dropped off to die. Interesting. Shortly thereafter Moses expressed his dislike of Barack Obama because of his recent stance for gay marriage. Like I said, Moses is very Christian, a born-again Christian nonetheless. In Uganda, the current popular vote is for a piece of legislation calling for the death penalty for convicted homosexuals (most of this due to proselytizing by American Evangelicals). I tried to explain to Moses how un-Jesus-like it was to judge others so harshly, but he explained simply that it is a deadly sin and worthy of the worst punishment. Speaking of unwed pregnant women, did I mention that Moses has a child, and yet is not married to the mother? I simply didn’t have it in me to point out the irony as I believe his fragile head would explode.

So…anyway…the canoe ride was great!

On our return to Bayoona Amagara for dinner we met a Belgian couple who we convinced to give us a ride in their car tomorrow to Kampala, SCORE!!! No more bumpy, cramped, long Matatu rides! Dinner was excellent as always, and the walk back to our dark hotel was even more pleasant than the night before. The stars here, as you can imagine, are very bright and beautiful.

07.20.12

The canoe takes over an hour to get back to shore, but the four of us split the price for a motorboat, zipping through the scenic glory of Lake Bunyonyi, morning mist rising of the surface as traders in dugout canoes rowed their goods to market, and children going to school.

Riding with the Belgian couple in their jeep was luxurious! And free!!! We made a couple stops for delicious food in Mbarara, and an unexpected stop for sodas at the equator line. We honestly had no clue this was even here.

They took us to a city about 30k from Kampala and we took a short Matatu ride to finish the trip. It was still a long travel day, but felt more like a road trip than being herded like cattle in a truck.

We chose to stay at Kampala Backpackers, on the outskirts of a bustling, smoggy city; unfortunately filled with young, loud, obnoxiously dressed, make-up caked Brits getting ready to go out for a night of partying. This was not our scene, and probably the most white people we have seen in one place since being back home. We tolerated their loud, sloppy behavior while gladly used the free internet to catch up from being without for so long. Then we retired to our nice sized room.

07.21.12

Kampala is actually a really cool city as we learned holding on for dear life on the back of a motorbike, the driver zig-zagging through ridiculous traffic. Of the African cities we have seen thus far, it is particularly modern and seems to have much in the way of architecture and culture. We were dropped off at a curiously modern mall where we experienced amenities unlike anything before on this trip; coffee shops, fast food joints, delis, computer stores, and even a movie theatre?! Where are we all of a sudden? We did some shopping and indulged in delicacies like blue cheese and prosciutto.

On our way walking back we stopped by the crafts market for some very pleasant, truly hassle free, souvenir shopping. Bargaining here is a cinch, they start with a reasonable price and quickly and happily drop it to an even more reasonable price. Not at all like crafts shopping in places like India where they start at 10x the price, and through blood, sweat, and tears you bring them down to a somewhat lesser ripoff. Man, we are loving Uganda and Ugandans more and more every minute.

We got back to the hostel, but were soon white-knuckling a motorbike ride again to a local bar where we would meet a man to pick up our newly rented Land Rover. Yes, for the next three days I planned to try my hand at driving on Uganda’s wild streets through some national parks!

The company, Road Trip Uganda is owned by a very friendly couple of dutch guys. They packed the car full of neat camping gear and check it thoroughly before handing over to he next client. We had a delicious burger at the local joint, checked the cars vitals, signed some papers and we were off.

Driving these mad streets at night was completely insane, but thankfully we only had about 5km to go. In that 5km I still managed to break some law or rather and a cop with a large machine gun on the back of a motorbike pulled us over. I apologized profusely for not going more quickly through the green light for fear of running over the thousands of boda-bodas zipping in front of me, but he assured me I should, in the future, just drive forward and they will move, or not and that it their fault not mine.

Nonethless I broke the law by stopping at a green light, but a nice 10,000 Ugandan shillings ($4) in the officers pocket “to pay for the gas he had to use to pull me over” made him very happily walk away.

We made it to the hostel after what felt like an incredible adventure! Our new mission, after searching earlier to no success, was to find some other suckers…er…travellers to join us for our road trip North. To our ever incredible luck, the first couple we asked, a Swedish guy Thomas and a German girl Henrieke, were totally down to join. We just cut the already reasonable price of $60/day plus gas in half! Wheelin’ and dealin’ baby!

07.22.12

We hit the road soon after brekkie (I say brekkie because they had Vegemite there, and boy do I love Vegemite on toast). The biggest challenge was navigating the labyrinth of city streets, and getting through horrendous traffic. Once we hit the main road north however it was wonderfully paved, flat, and empty. Smooth sailing.

Our first stop a few hours later was Kiwa Rhino Sanctuary. Rhinos are literally the only big game we did not see on Safari, and here was our chance. Kiwa is an open-range breeding grounds to reintroduce the Rhinos after they had been slaughtered to extinction in Uganda as poachers took advantage of civil unrest. There are around 20 Rhinos, and they started with only a handful.

We paid a reasonable fee and our local guide, plus a volunteer Englishman with a Ph.D in Rhinos (he assured us this is possible in England), jumped in the car with us and I drove to the Rhinos location. Only the first part was in vehicle however, and after a short hike on foot we were standing not 10 meters away from the massive beasts themselves! There were five in all. In this heat they usually just lay about, but at the moment the alpha male and two others were standing and munching some grass.

This was such a treat! I never would have imagined this was even safe, and the next few moments certainly made me doubt it was! The alpha stood up and began sauntering away from us, where he came upon another male lying in the grass ahead. With no warning except the thundering of their hooves and snorts of anger, the alpha charged at the other male who quickly jumped up and ran away…in our direction.

That’s right, At this moment we had two male Rhinos, one ton in weight each, thundering straight towards us. Needless to say we ran like a swarm of bees was chasing us…no scrap that…we ran like two one-ton RHINOS were chasing us! The thundering behemoths quickly diverted to the right however, and we group of eight were left breathless yet laughing hysterically like those who just outran a swarm of bees…no scrap that…oh not this joke again…

It was an absolutely incredible experience. The Rhino doctor assured us that we were in little real danger, but it sure as crap felt like it. Apparently if they were black Rhinos we would have been screwed, but white Rhinos are less aggressive and really only use their horns and strength to fight other Rhinos, avoiding most everything else.

With that experience behind us we hit the road again and in about two hours realized we had gone the wrong way. This ended up working out in our favor however. We now had to take a dirt road to cut back in and make our way to Masingi. This road ended up being a spectacular diversion. The local villages we drove by were beyond enthused to see a jeep full of wazungu. We felt like celebrities, how the queen must feel riding through England, having to smile and wave at all the wide-eyed passers by.

It was just one of those times that felt truly genuine in a foreign country, nowhere near any piece of the tourist track, mingling with the friendliest of local people, and seeing them just in their day to day element amidst the gorgeous green fields with bright red dirt.

We got to Masingi, stopped by the tourism office to get some advice of approaching Murchison Falls national park. Then we got provisions at a local market, checked into a hotel where we got cheap camp space, set up the gear, had dinner, cold showers, and bed.

07.23.12

We took the long way to Murchison through Bundongo forest where we drove through the canopy of towering trees, along Lake Albert dotted with fishing villages and babboons, and were soon at the gate to enter the park.

The park itself is pretty to drive through. Muscular, shirtless men, glistening with sweat, (as our girlfriends made us well aware) hack mercilessly at the dense jungle in its ever persistent encroachment of the red dirt roads. What we really came here for was the falls. The most powerful falls in the world. The Nile river hits this cliff edge as it snakes through from Lake Victoria to Egypt and simply pummels itself through twisting rock. Quite a sight to see.

The falls was only a taste of the awesome we were to experience today. We shot quickly south, eating lunch in the car to get to the staging area for chimpanzee trekking. We were met by the first female guide we have had and she soon had us tramping through dense jungle to find some Chimps.

The trek was dead quiet, all too excited with nervous energy to speak. Within an hour we were spotting our first chimp, munching some jackfruit in a tree. As we admired him, the trek group before us appeared running from the jungle, drenched in sweat, and panting heavily. They began undressing and before we could wonder if we should for some odd reason be doing to same, the guide explained they had been swarmed by bees when someone stepped on a nest…terrific.

A minute later the vicious sound of howling, battling chimps surrounded us, forget the bees, these beasts can rip your arm off with little effort, or bite easily through your skull like a jackfruit. Yet our guide assured us they believed we were the superior species, so we crept closer towards the sounds. We counted eight chimps around us, as we snapped pictures and swatted the leftover bees from the attack. Jess and Thomas got stung once each, but otherwise the experience was spectacular!

Later I will have to post the videos we snapped of 1. chimps mating, man he was quick, and 2. one chimp running full speed downhill to smack an adversary across the face who responded with barred teeth and angry grunts. 98% of human DNA indeed.

We hung out with them for almost two hours before heading back. We got to see about everything exciting there is to see involving Chimpanzees, including a cute baby hanging out with mommy in a tree.

We exited the park and received a warm welcome at Boomu women’s group. A hostel run solely by local women. We checked in to our very cute huts, took outdoor showers, and ended the night eating, we all agreed, the most delicious and by far most traditional African meal we have had including succulent grilled goat in spicy sauce, savory mashed plantains, dripping roasted sweet potatoes, steamed eggplant, raw cabbage, fresh avocado, and flavored rice. This place is awesome.

07.23.12

The drive back was uneventful, amazing we never popped a tire or had any mechanical issues considering the amount of potholes and rough dirt roads we have covered. We dropped off our travel buddies and Jess and I hit the road again to Jinja; the source of the Nile as it leaves Lake Victoria. Aside from constantly playing chicken with oncoming cars in order to pass painfully slow trucks while avoiding the chasms which dotted the road, the drive was easy…ish.

On the other side of the concrete behemoth which dams the Nile a cop stopped us at a checkpoint simply to mess with us. He asked bizarre questions trying to find an excuse to mess with us even more. When he asked our religion; “Christian!” I lied quickly. I figured that was the answer he wanted considering nearly every place of business in Uganda has some form of Jesus in the title including my absolute favorite: “Jesus Christ is Our Lord and Savior – Women’s Beauty Salon.” Not at all kidding about that either; sadly I didn’t get a picture, but here’s a fun Mormon billboard, somehow even creepier in Africa.

The cop let us go after complaining we didn’t bring him dinner…I assume jokingly? Another interesting Ugandan interaction.

The sun was setting over the misty river as we arrived at the backpackers hangout. We caught some street food called a Rolex. Literally just a vegetable omlette wrapped in a chapati, but dipped in spicy chili sauce, quite a bit more delicious than it sounds. The enterepreneur cooking was remarkably friendly. Afterwards we walked back and climbed into our spacious tent.

07.25.12

Sunrise on the Nile. A year ago there would have been a waterfall in this picture, but a dam downriver put an end to that!

Our day in Jinga was spent mostly at coffee shops, buying a couple more souvenirs, and exploring the town; quite modern, remarkably liveable, lots of expats. The highlight of the day however, were the absolutely hideous birds on the golf course.

We drove back to Kampala, checked into a hotel at city center, dropped the car off to the Dutchman, wandered the big, smoggy city a bit more then slept. A pretty average day really.

07.26.12

More or less the same as yesterday. We putzed around the hotel, had a nice breakfast with lots of pineapple and avocado. Then we took a packed Matatu for an hour ride to Entebbe where we checked into the backpackers place. We spent the day doing more wandering. The botanical gardens were nice, we watched lots of monkeys play, then read along the lake and just hung out, waiting for our flight tomorrow to Zanzibar.

In the evening we met the first Oaklander on this trip and her San Franciscan friends. We chatted a bit then went to bed early.

07.27.12

Three flights today. From Entebbe to Arusha, then Arusha to Dar, then Dar to the beautiful, historical island of Zanzibar! It took most of the day.

Our hotel in Zanzibar was exquisite! It used to be an old English club, the succession of Zanzibar rulers from Sultan to the Queen ascend up the marble staircase. Old Persian rugs hang from the walls, and our room is the most modern we have stayed in yet. We decided to splurge a bit here. Dinner included some tasty seafood. We slept very well in our cushy beds, a luxury compared to the cardboard-like material of most beds we have slept on this trip.

07.28.12

We spent the vast majority of the day exploring the exciting Unesco World Heritage Site of Stone Town! This town is where almost every African slave was brought, sold, and shipped to the middle east and part of Europe. You can imagine the wealth that accrued here from the blood, quite literally, of others. Pretty dark and crazy history, hard to believe in such a gorgeous setting.

The tall alleys of Stone Town twist and turn like a never ending labyrinth. The most noteable and beautiful part of the city are the plethora of intricately carved wooden doors brightening even the most dilapidated structure.

We quickly explored the old fort and then the House of Wonders for hours; once a Sultans pleasure palace of modern trinkets, now a museum rich with artifacts and history of Zanzibar.

We then got a tour of the slave chambers and old slave market. A church sits atop the former slave market, the altar sitting right where the whipping tree once stood. We puzzled at the fact that 95% of Zanzibar was Muslim even though it was Islamic cultures here which ran the slave trade and essentially the English Church which brought the end of slavery. You’d think the locals would just give up after being screwed by pretty much the rest of the world and get back to their root beliefs, but well, indoctrination is one hell of an effective concept.

Speaking of Muslims, it is Ramadan right now. This means that even we cannot eat or drink in front of the locals or many will get very angry with us. Nonetheless there were a couple places tucked away serving food; House of Spices, a rooftop joint is where we savored a delectable lunch.

We finished the day wandering through markets, relaxing at the hotel and going out at night to the famed seafood markets in the park. Unfortunately they have become too famed. What might have at one point been enjoyed by both locals and tourists, has now been turned into incredibly overpriced “fresh” seafood from dozens of carts, where pushy and aggressive touts nearly force you to buy from their food cart as opposed to the exact same looking food one cart over.

We ordered just a bit of “lobster” (definitely wasn’t lobster, but well spiced and delicious; chicken maybe?), and tough octopus tentacles. Many of the tentacles went to a begging stray cat, who instantly became my best friend.

Jess, too annoyed at the whole situation to eat (I don’t blame her), grabbed some samosas from our hotel before we went to bed.

07.29.12

For the last two days of our travel we decided to really treat ourselves. We gathered our things, walked through the narrows Stone Town streets to the busy Dala-Dala stand, and took a crowded ride to a barely inhabited corner of the island where we checked in to the fancy Ngalawa Beach Lodge to spend the next two days doing nothing except eating, swimming, and laying around.

We arrived and were greeted by Joanne, a Canadian, and nearly the spitting image of my mother in so many ways; her two pet goats in tow (okay so the Linda Edwards I know would not have pet goats, but other than that, identical I swear).

I will be brief. I could write many pages about how unbelievably delectable the food here is, prepared by an exquisite chef and served by the friendliest of staff members (who, if you remember, are all fasting!) The grounds are lovely, the beach lovely, the pool lovely, the room lovely. But lets just stop there. You get the idea, it’s paradise, and as far as writing goes it would be stupid boring to regale you with each and every detail.

07.30.12

Take an educated guess as to what we did today. Have an idea? Yup that’s right, the same as yesterday: nothing! And it was awesome. Although I did write this blog…so I guess that’s something. I did get Jessica to play our yearly game of chess during high tea. And we took a gorgeous night walk along the beach during extremely low tide with a friendly American couple living in Germany. The food was even more delectable than yesterday! A band played at night and we sipped some whiskey and gin. So different from our previous lives as backpackers! But, it is fun and relaxing here. No complaints!

07.31.12

So here I am. Looking out over the pool. The blue ocean in the background. Computer in my lap on the porch of our room. Ahead of us is a half day of relaxing and then something like 35 hours of waiting, flying, waiting, flying, waiting, flying; home. 22 hours we will spend in the sky over the next two days. Not an endeavor I wish to embark on, but a necessary one.

It has been an unbelievable trip. We saw every African animal I could have hoped to see. We experienced a new continent, new cultures, remarkably warm and friendly people. We ate a lot of food, we laughed, we walked vast distances, and drove even more. We had many moments outside of our comfort bubble, but that is why we do this; to get home and truly appreciate all that we have.

We will return to you Africa. As our ancestors left you some 80,000 years ago and we have been privileged to spend this short time again on your fertile red soil…and not get eaten by lions, or impaled by a rhino horn, or swarmed by killer bees, mauled by a leopard, pounced by a group of hyenas, torn to ribbons by gorillas, poisoned by a black mamba, eyes pecked out by your freakish birds, gored by warthogs, pooped on by babboons, puked our guts out from malaria, or yellow fever, or bilharzia, or sleeping sickness, or dysentery, drowned in a capsized boat, or crashed in a freak dala-dala accident. We made it! And it was well worth it.

Signing off until the next adventure,

Dave

Lions, and Leopards, and Lakes. Oh my! July 25, 2012

07.11.12

This is was Land Rovers were built for: the rough, rugged roads of Africa, not perfectly paved suburban America. We hopped in our beastly vehicle with our two guides Charles and Mody, two spare tires strapped to the back, two tanks of petrol full, and all the supplies we needed for four days of wilderness.

On the way to our first stop of Tarangire National Park, we passed a bounty of Maasai villages, still living with the traditions of thousands of years. Of all the tribes in Africa, these people remain stalwart no matter how much the government herds them around, taking their land. Scarred cheeks with smiling lips, sandals made of old tires, bright red-checkered robes, thin walking canes (in lieu of spears), colorful beaded jewelry, and drooping stretched earlobes, they herd cows to and fro the feeding fields between tiny villages dotted with circular grey mud and cow poop huts.

But undoubtedly the coolest part of the Maasai are how they dress for their circumcision ceremonies. While getting circumcised in your teens sounds unnecessarily painful, and painfully unnecessary, they consider it a coming of age to withstand the pain without wincing. Directly after being cut, the boys dress in all black, paint their faces white and many adorn white feathers atop their heads. This they wear and wander the bush in groups until they return healed and earn their red robes.

We waited at the gate of Tarangire with dozens of Wazungu (“white people”, as the locals have made us very aware of) in their similar Land Rovers, while all of our guides stood in line to fill out the permit info required for entry. There were some beautiful birds and Vervet monkeys with their bright blue balls to entertain us. Apparently the darker a males testicles, the higher up in the social ladder he is. Gives a different definition than we have for “blue balls”.

The exciting moment came where we got to pop the top roof of the Jeep so we could stand with our heads out for some panoramic views of the area. Within literally two minutes of entering, as if straight out of a movie, we came upon a tiny lake with a family of elephants bathing, in the foreground a group of rascally looking mongooses (mongeese?) sped by, and to the left, herds of zebra and wildebeests grazed. About the only thing missing was the Lion King intro kicking in the background: “AHHHHH SABADENYA, BADABEETSI BABA. EY, WENYA OOH” Yeah, I have no idea how to type that into song, but you get the idea.

But seriously, when we had Safari in mind we envisioned hours of driving without seeing anything, then getting excited by one sighting of something far away; nothing nearly as unbelievable as this! The ride through the park kept getting us mere meters away from every animal you imagine to find in Africa. The zebras do a particularly adorable thing where they rest heads on each others shoulders. Probably part to rest, but also the stripes confuse the crap out of predators.

The birds were also magnificent, Kingfishers, Finches, Vultures, an Owl, tons of deep pastel colored birds. Jessica and I were consistently squealing with excitement and telling Charles to stop every 2 minutes for a picture of something equally gorgeous from the last stop. He must be used to this being a guide for six years, but it got a little ridiculous. He kindly turned off the engine each time so the rumble wouldn’t disturb the pictures of the squaks and grunts of the animals.

We also got to see our first big cat species. A pride of lions lounging off the side of the road. There was a male, but we only saw him from the back, the females however were quite lively, one with a leather collar because she is being tracked by the park officials.

We left the park after a long day of pure awesome, and camped high up on a hill in a place far fancier than we imagined we would be camping. Tents all set up, with actual beds inside, electricity, clean bathrooms, nice views, huge dining area. Certainly not “roughing it”! The food Sandra packed and Mody prepared was scrumptious. Fried fish, salads with avocado, and I was even ultra impressed that a can of instant coffee and powdered milk could whip up such a tatsy brew.

The noisy British high school group thankfully went to bed early after all scrambling and bickering to use the few available outlets to charge cameras and phones. Soon we were fast asleep dreaming of wild beasts.

07.12.12

Tea, coffee, eggs, sausage, white bread, pineapple, watermelon, and oranges woke us up. Soon we were packed and headed to Ngorongoro Conservation area.

Same drill as at Tarangire; wait outside with the other Wazungu for an hour until the permits are ready. The information office gave some excellent information about the area; volcanic activity which made the crater, species found within, history of the Maasai, and the birth of early homo sapiens traced to this area. As a biology teacher I felt it was my duty to ensure the data was correct and was pleasantly satisfied.

Soon we were driving down the lip of the crater to the protected animals within. Similar Zebras, Empallas, Gazelles, Wildebeests as yesterday, but also nearly right upon entering we were met with Hyenas, Warthogs, Jackals, Ostriches, Flamingos, and this really cool orange afroe’d secretary bird you are sure to recognize.

Charles told us the names for each animal in Swahili. Many of which we knew without knowing we knew. See if you recognize these names. Lion – Simba, Warthog – Pumba, Father male lion – James Earl Jones. Funny thing that last one…all so uncannily similar to the Lion King.

We came across another pride of Simba just lounging along in the grass, and passed a huge family of wandering baboons, I might have even seen uncle Peter among them (that’s for you dad). Ngorongoro is teeming with unique creatures of all sorts smushed together in the safe confines of this crater. It was simply astounding how many separate species you could be looking at all at once.

With our stomachs grumbling we stopped for some fried chicken lunch in a little valley enclave with other tourists and some bathrooms. This little lake area was the first place we have seen Hippos and they gave us quite a show; covered in birds, yawning with their huge teeth poking out, snorts and grumbles, and bobbing up and down in the water.

The highlight of the day for me were all the Hyenas. I think they are my favorite because they are related to dogs, and there are simply hideous in a beautiful way. We even came across a mother with two babies, literally just a few meters from our truck. Fun fact about Hyenas, the packs are matriarchal, the female even grows a “fake penis” to assert her dominance over their inferiors. If a male prostrates to a female and she denies him, she bites out his throat and eats him. Oh…maybe that’s why I like Hyenas.

Coming in close second for the hideously beautiful prize would be the stout, stocky, warthogs. Always running with their tails straight up like a pencil in the air, their hysterically huge tusks seem to make little room for an actual face, of which is pretty hideous already. How does this species even manage to propagate? Lots of alcohol I suppose, lowers inhibition, makes even a warthog look mate-able.

After another long, dusty, fantabulous day and a quick text to wish my brother Mike a Happy Birthday we headed to our much more spartan campsite, ate another expertly cooked beef stew dinner followed by fresh fruit, then went to bed in our cozy tent under a sky filled with brightly shining suns and galaxies.

07.13.12

Where are the giraffes you might ask? A good question, but after an hour driving and not ten minutes into the periphery of the Serengeti, BAM, Giraffes!

Each park has been a completely different ecosystem, only separated by a couple hours driving. The Serengeti is a sprawl of yellow grasslands, spotted with little dots of rocky greenery, and the occasional field of Baobab, Acacia, and other trees. Though this picture was taken of grasslands when we had to get out so our guides could fix a flat tire.

The rest stop at the park entrance had a myriad of bright birds, multi-colored lizards and more wazunga. This wait took an especially long time, but soon we were on our way to the depths of the Serengeti!!!

The first couple hours of Serengeti seemed like the same old, same old. The massive herd of elephants was exciting, but otherwise lots of wildebeests, trees, grass, rocks, that’s about it. Not to say this scenery wasn’t especially beautiful, but the last two days spoiled us with consistent unique animal spottings. All was made up for however with our first sighting of a leopard dangling in a tree!

It was the first of many sightings of leopards, and also lions hanging out safely in trees, their fours limbs dangling like a sleeping baby on mom’s back.

Then came the unforgettable climax of the day, and possibly the whole trip: five lionesses and five cubs feeding on a wildebeest corpse. As close as they were, the high grass skewed our view a bit, leaving only imagining the state of the dead beast. But when they were full, the lionesses and cubs came out and quite literally rubbed against our vehicle. If I were braver I could have reached my hand 2 feet away and pet momma’s back.

Then one lion just laid down and hung out right by our car. We just sat stunned and stared at this awesome mammal. Her split nose had clearly been kicked in during a fight, maybe this fight, and the blood from the wound and from feeding trickled off her lips and whiskers. Brutal. Also below is the incredibly National Geographicesque shot of three lions in a tree.

The day could not have been better. Okay maybe if we’d seen a kill happen it could have. Also if a male lion got thrown in the mix, or even some animals mating would have been exciting. But the trip was nonetheless far beyond all expectations. We even managed to check off our cat sightings by getting up close and personal with a Cheetah lounging by a broken tree.

Sunset was soon falling over our even more spartan campsite, as everyone lined up to get in a quick shower washing off the dust from the day. There were only two plugs in the dining call this time (see what I mean by Spartan), Jess and I snagged one as soon as possible to give our camera battery a much needed charge.

07.14.12

We took a late start today. Both spare tires have been used and Charles had to go get them repaired to ensure a smooth journey home. We did manage to see the tail end of the herbivore migration which was impressive, and get up close with some baboons.

Otherwise it was a speedy exit from the park before our 24-hour time limit was up. We officially ended our Safari at a small town where Charles and Mody bid us farewell as we boarded a bus to Mwanza.

For once it was a very comfortable bus ride. We made it to Mwanza in good time, then boarded a dala-dala which left us kind of near a street mentioned in our guidebook, but really we were just mostly lost. City center seemed close, we were tired, hungry, thirsty and had to pee so we ducked in to a fancy-ish looking hotel and booked a room. It was a great room and an incredibly reasonable rate, we counted ourselves lucky we couldn’t find the hotel we were searching for from our book.

Soon we were in the city center, and grabbed some dinner at a pizza place. Mwanza is the second largest city in Tanzania, which rests on the second largest lake in the world, Lake Victoria. So far the city still feels more like a big town. It is noticeably clean and the people are very friendly. Still not much as far as cities go, but it is one of the nicest we have been in thus far!

We got lost on the way back and stumbled upon the most bustling markets we have seen in Tanzania yet. Street after street was packed with people selling all sorts of goods, used clothes, fish, fruits & vegetables, shoes, textiles, all laid out on tarps on the ground. Everywhere else we have been in the world, markets like this seem to be largely set up for tourists as well as locals, however, we seem to be the only tourists in the whole city. No longer on packaged Safaris, the elusive white people seem non-existent everywhere else in Tanzania!!!

We finally found our way back and enjoyed some slow internet and beers at our hotel where our very friendly waitress sat with us and enjoyed our pictures from Safari. She spoke only a few words of English, but she simply exuded friendliness!

07.15.12

First thing in the morning we booked boat tickets to Bukoba on the other side of Lake Victoria, towards the Ugandan border. Lunch at our hotel then took almost two hours to come, while the TV in the background involved a funky-haired Indian televangelist healing the “ill”, and the “disabled” (but really just a plethora of crappy actors) with the power of faith and shouting “MAXIMUM JESUS CHRIST!” in their face. Really, that should have been the blog title.

We spent the rest of the day walking around town, and making our way up to the rocky peninsula which housed the wealthiest of Tanzanian’s citizens. Most of the wealthier Tanzanians are traditionally of Indian descent who came here even before, as well as brought with European colonialists and set up businesses which thrive to this day.

The neighborhood was eerily modern in contrast to every other neighborhood we have seen in this country. Huge, sprawling mansions, showing the true contrast between the wealthy and the poor. But there is one thing you can say about most rich people around the world, they do build their homes around places with a nice view!

On the way down we popped into a really swanky hotel for a soda and a lake view. Upon walking through the gates and up the stairs to the pool area we discovered something truly shocking: white folk! Apparently all the white people in Mwanza were hidden right here in this very hotel! We must have missed the memo. It actually felt foreign not to be the center of attention and curiosity; here we just blended in, what a concept!

We walked back to the hotel, Jess got some nice textiles at the market, we used the internet, had some drinks, grabbed our bags, and a quick-ish (nothing is quick here) beef stew dinner downtown then headed to the port for our boat.

From the outside our boat looks like a WWII relic. A steel behemoth meant to mount guns not manufactured goods and locals. From the inside it was clearly built by the English for human travel, but yeah, probably a long time ago. But, it floated and we had our own room!

The boat ride, we determined, was one of the most sincerely pleasant ways we have travelled. All other travel wastes a day and leaves us exhausted and dusty. On the boat however, we sipped whiskey and beer from the bar and watched the city lights get dimmer and dimmer.

07.16.12

And the best part, when we woke up, we were at our destination! Getting off the boat to the swarm of harmless little lake flies, gave some splendid views of the ship. An unforgettable journey! Our boat is the one in the background, not the sunken one.

We walked along the nice sandy beach of Bukoba and found our hotel, Spicy Beach Motel among straw pagodas along the water. We were, as always, received warmly, showed to a room, quickly served a delicious breakfast, and then headed out for a walk to city center.

This city is ultra cute. The people somehow even more friendly than usual, and the slow, relaxed, “pole-pole” sense of the town was truly felt. We booked our tickets to head into Uganda tomorrow then headed back to the hotel to sit on the beach and do nothing but read, listen to music, eat fried chicken and eggy french fries (delicious local delicacy), and watch the town go slowly by. It was great!

Well that was a satisfying blog! Stay tuned for our adventures into Uganda!

Chameleons and Kili July 21, 2012

07.05.12

We bid fond farewell to our new friends and terrific hosts at Mkoma Bay (though for the size of the bill, you’d think his holiness the Dalai Lama was our host!) and hopped on a dala-dala back to Tanga. Bumpy, cramped, the usual. Tanga had the usual touts, “come to this bus, that bus doesn’t go to Lushoto, only mine”…”oh really, then why does it say Lushoto in the windshield?”

Soni in the Usambara Highlands is our next destination, a small town before the more bustling town of Lushoto. More mud huts passed us by, jungle, rolling plains. A moderately comfortable journey made better as we began to ascend the mountains and were met with rolling hills, spotted with homes amid fields of corn, and beautiful waterfalls just off the side of the road.

Soni has a tiny town center, but sprawling red mud homes dotting the hills. We walked a few kilometers to Maweni Farms guesthouse. The setting is gorgeous, lots of green, wood smoke filling the air, cute dirt roads, valleys, granite cliffs, purely scenic.

Everyone who passes as we ascended the hill carries baskets of harvested goods on their heads. They stare curiously at us, but with a “Mambo”, “Jambo”, or “Habari”, their stares quickly turned to smiles and utter a friendly response: “Poa”, “Jambo”, “Mzuri”. A lot of people like to try their English on us, “good morning” they say, and Jessica chastises me when I try to correct them with “good afternoon”, to no avail.

We are literally the only guests staying at the farms. We have the entire compound to ourselves and of course the very friendly guards and incredibly welcoming hostess. We settle in, shower off the dust of travel, and our hostess and the chef prepare a flawless dinner with the most delicious marinated beef, rice, with curry and peas, and phenomenally fresh avocado, all in a log cabin setting…but with Vervet monkeys eying our food longingly.

Our host lights a fire, and for the first time in Africa we indulge in free internet, and some reading in the cushy chairs around the fire. The ambiance makes up for the ever persistent sluggish nature of the internet speeds here.

07.06.12

First thing after breakfast we hit up the Soni Thursday market. It was massive, bussling, and filled with bright veggies, and smiling faces. Markets are always the perfect way to soak up the local culture.

We explored the rest of the city of Soni; not much to report. The usual dilapidated mud, plaster, and concrete buildings. We took a dala-dala through windy mountain roads to Lushoto, had lunch, then explored the city.

Cities here tend to be quite boring themselves. Very little unique architecture, painfully few buildings of cultural significance, and the usually fascinating religious buildings are often no more than the same old concrete slab with a cross, or a tall Muslim spire.

So, aside from the beautiful red mud huts crawling up dramatic green hillsides, the cities here offer little in the way of entertainment. But we didn’t come to Africa to explore cities did we?! Nonetheless we spent the day doing just that, exploring the cities. Lushoto has little to offer except a prison which you can’t take photos of or they will take your camera away apparently. There is a church too. It’s kind of ugly. The most interesting photo we took was of the Soni Post Office:

We just wandered the day away. More market exploration, Jessica looking at textiles to buy, and lots of walking.

07.07.12

Today is why we came to the Usumbaras, hiking! All things tend to be more challenging around here however. Instead of just picking a trail and going on a hike with signs to point you this way or that, here, you need a guide. One reason is for safety, but the other is that there are no marked trails at all. Guides lead the way. So, paying a bit more than we would have liked, we got ourselves a very friendly, well-read, fluent English speaking guide to take us through the highlands.

His name escapes me, probably because I couldn’t pronounce it, but he was awesome! He is the first local we have met so far where no language barrier existed, and as we tramped through beautiful jungle, we were truly able to connect with our guide on more global perspectives and learn a ton about Tanzanian government, politics, society, and the country’s relations with the rest of Africa and the world.

The hike was terrific as well. The first part was through farm fields, with locals tilling and weeding all around us, then we hit the preserved jungle where we were met with unique spikey plants, flowers of all colors, and towering trees with a delightful smell, almost gingery.

At the top of the hill we had a great view of the mountains surrounding us and the villages nestled in the valleys. Rising white smoke dotted throughout as farmers burned the crop scraps. We had some lunch in a viewpoint hut.

Our guide lead us next to a cave the Germans built to hide from the English during WWI., or was it WWII? Not even he seemed sure. In WWI the Germans were defending their Tanzanian colony, in WWII they were attacking. In either case, to have conflict out here in the middle of the jungle tells us that both truly were world wars. We caught a glimpse of a Colobus monkey hopping from tree to tree and otherwise just enjoyed the smells, sounds, and sights of the misty forest.

The end of the trip took us through more tiny villages filled with goats, cows, chickens, red mud huts, and brightly dressed, friendly people. The weirdest plant we saw during this part of the journey has to be the cactus tree, seemingly both a cactus and a tree, very strange looking.

Upon return to our hotel we had but one mission; to find a Chameleon before we leave the Usambara’s. Not only are they named the very fitting “Jackson’s Chameleon”, but they are unique only to the area and really cool looking. However, incredibly hard to find for obvious reasons. We didn’t see one on the entire hike, but with the help of the hotel employees, we found two massive ones.

We did the usual lounging by he fire for the rest of the eve and slept under the ever present mosquito net.

07.08.12

I’ll be frank, today sucked. It was an easy dala-dala ride to the crossroads of the very dusty town of Mambo. Once there, a local Indian man sold us sitting tickets for a bus. In every other instance we would just buy tickets when boarding, but this guy managed to convince us that it was a very busy travel day since school just got out and all buses were full. Seeing a few go by, he was 100% correct, humans packed in every square inch like cattle.

So he called ahead, got us a seat and we sat down for some tea, and delicious roasted goat.

An hour later he rushed us out into the blistering sun to wait for our soon arriving bus. Still over an hour more and our bus hadn’t come. We are now finding shade where we can, the smell of roasting potatoes, goat, diesel, and dust making its way to our nostrils. Our tout continues to assure us our bus will come any moment, but another hour longer and he instead tells us that all buses are full, no seats, and grabs our bags asking us to follow him to a private white Toyota with tinted windows.

The next 15 minutes he tried to convince us to get into a car with someone we do not know who is conveniently driving to our destination Moshi and willing to take two tourists for less than the price of a tank of gas. We try to convince him how sketchy this sounds and how we do not feel comfortable. He assures us the man is a police officer, though dressed in shorts, sandals, and a T-shirt, here that just might be believable. When he was unable to show a badge, we backed out and thankfully got a refund.

Another hour was spent waiting, another tout promised a spot on a bus, but was realistic with us and said we would be standing. When we finally boarded a bus, we were packed shoulder to shoulder. Barely room on the floor to set our feet. For two hours we stood like this, the other two Jessica had a seat, and I shared a tiny ¼ seat, my huge butt spilling more into aisle than seat as the woman sharing with me seemed very displeased even though she clearly had the better deal.

We finally arrived, after what was a long, stressful day, then took a dala-dala from the bus station to the YMCA where our new hotel and Safari host Sandra picked us up in a jeep with her son Toney. Sandra, a Kiwi, runs a small Guesthouse (really an extension of her home) and Safari company with her husband Frankie. A family in Pangani told us to contact Sandra, and we were glad we did.

We picked up some kebab skewers and baked dough stuffed with mincemeat from town then some drive-by fruit and vegetable shopping from brightly dressed women on the sidewalk then headed to her place. Along the way we had a grand view of the glacier packed peak of Mt. Kilamanjaro in the distance, which seems to simply shoot up from nowhere.

Passing through a thick metal gate, Sandra’s place is like an oasis from the otherwise plain, dusty town. A large property with gardens, and a clean well-decorated separate section of the house where we will be staying.

We ate dinner, took our Malaria pills, and indulged in much needed showers. Sandra let her two friendly German Shepards out to run around and protect the grounds at night. They kept us up for a couple hours fighting through the fence with the neighbors dogs. It didn’t help that one of the dogs is so old that it’s bark sounds more like a death rattle, still a cutie pie.

07.09.12

Waking up at 5am is always painful, but we were able to get into a car with Frankie and nap for a couple more hours. When we woke up we were climbing the mountains towards Kilimanjaro. We had to pay a ridiculous fee just to enter the park, but hiking with the mountain in the background was majestic. Frankie had to come up here anyway to drop off a guide and some helmets for tourists climbing the mountain, but he was nice enough to take us and drive us deep in the park for our hike.

Frankie dealt with more government beuro-crazy (see what I did there?) at the gate out. Apparently he went up a road he wasn’t supposed to, though no signs made any mention of being off-limits. According to him, the longer you argue with a government official, the lower the bribe you have to pay. After a long enough time you can win by wearing them out. Frankie did just that, presented his case long enough and eloquently enough that the guard just gave up. It took about 40min.

On the way back we got to get up close and personal with a family of Colobus monkeys off the side of the road, probably the prettiest of any monkey we have ever seen, and they seem to know it. The Arthur Fonzerelli’s of the monkey kingdom. Ayyyyyyyy (That’s an Arthur Fonzerelli reference, not an insulted Mexican Soap Opera star). More like a long haired skunk with opposable thumbs than monkey really.

Our drive took us back to Sandra’s where we lounged about before she dropped us of at a magnificently scrumptious coffee shop. We wrote a note on the community bulletin board to see if anyone wanted to join the Safari trip we have been planning to drop the price a bit and have some company.

We spent some of today and tomorrow trying to solve our financial woes. We have two credit cards, unfortunately nowhere in Tanzania accepts credit card and no bank has the slightest idea what a “cash advance” is. Our one debit card Jessica realized she didn’t know the pin for until the drive to the airport. Why did we think it was a good idea to not bring just one more debit card with us? Amateur traveler mistake. We are ashamed of ourselves.

We went back to Sandras to write E-Mails home about money wiring. Laurie ended up saving our butts by wiring Sandra money for the stay, the Safari, and some cash for us to bring with us! Our saviors!

07.10.12

We stayed one more day in Moshi to wait and see if anyone else would join us, no biters except a guy wanting to steal us away to his Safari company. It was a day spent wandering the town from coffee shop to coffee shop and catching up on internet which this town actually has (think dial-up speed).

I helped a guy carry a heavy bag of grain 1km by lifting from the other strap. That was the highlight of the day, but Moshi is kind of cute though far from picturesque.

In the evening three Kiwis came back from Safari, they regaled us with exciting stories of the things we would soon be experiencing. We had a lovely dinner of mince meat, guacamole, and chapati served by our excellent host. Then we hit the sack, dreaming of Lions and Leopards.

Stay tuned next time for our Safari Adventures! Pictures will upload to Flickr eventually…probably not until we come back. With the internet speeds here they upload about one picture every 30min. Since this is usually my source of photo back-up, I have been extra paranoid about losing the digital devices which hold our most precious gems! I could be stripped naked with all our clothes, money, bags, and electronics stolen, but would be happy as long as I still had this thin rectangular hard drive carrying the memories we’ll keep forever. Oh my brain is pretty important for that too I suppose…but I cannot upload my brain to a computer…………yet.

I’ve been reading too much sci-fi on this trip.

Dave & Jess Signing off.

Shanty towns and luxury tents. July 10, 2012

06.28.12

Istanbul to Dar es Salaam was uncomfortable, but relatively easy, a couple movies, a nap, and 8 hours later we arrived. All the tourists were then hearded into a line for visas and passport control. They took our money, $100 for my American self, but a mere $50 for Jessica smartly traveling with her German passport. Then we all waited nearly an hour as they very slowly typed up all our information, took fingerprints and scans of our passport pictures to make an unnecessarily intricate visa sticker for our passports.

Backpacks strapped on we met our Couchsurfing host holding an 8×11 with Dave & Jess scrawled in pen. He was a very nice guy named Albert and guided us to a waiting taxi. With Couchsurfing sometimes you do not know what to expect. Will we be on a couch, on the floor, in a bed with our own room? To be fair we were technically brought to a bed in our own room, however the location was something that took us quite a bit out of our typically very flexible comfort zone. Our new room was smack in the middle of the concrete jungle.

I hesitate to use the word slum because that brings to mind plastic sheet walls and a tin roof held together with twine, but aside from a bit more concrete, it wasn’t too far off really. Sprawling concrete complexes where entire families lived in a space the size of many an American bathroom. When we walked down a narrow alley to our complex, Albert had to call a neighbor to unchain the outside gate to let us in. There is a central dirt courtyard with a rubbish heap in the middle next to a few stalks of sugar cane. The communal bathroom is two porcelain holes set in a crudely thrown together concrete box.

We did sleep, but not particularly well mind you. The bed was comfy, but the sounds of loud music through cheap, cracking speakers, and a two hour long Swahili sermon given at 4am by a monotone Christian preacher, mixed with the already nagging fear and uncertainty given these incredibly foreign surroundings did not make sleep easy!

06.29.12

We awoke to Albert knocking. He asked if we would like to eat, then he took me on a stroll through the town. At 3am this place was scary, but in the soft light of morning, with chickens clucking, friendly children kicking crude soccer balls through tire holes, and women in beautifully colored dresses cooking breakfast in smouldering coal-filled metal pots, I felt much more at ease. Kids stared at me with wide, curious eyes, muttering “muzungo, muzungo” (white person) but a smile and “Mambo” was quickly responded with a flash of friendly white teeth and the local response “Poa!”.

The woman serving us Chapati rolled the dough in a chipped wooden bowl and cooked with lots of oil in an iron pan over wood chacoal. She told Albert that she like to hear me speak English. We smiled back and forth; her teeth bright white against beautiful ebony skin. Albert taught me to say “Asante” to thank her for the meal.

Jess was still napping as we entered and Albert began scooping water from the top of a stack of plastic buckets we assumed were filled from a somewhat distant source. This is the only water nearby to be used for bathing, washing, cooking, drinking; nothing runs, only what is stored in these buckets. He procured a metal, coal powered cooking stove and began heating water. We sat and ate the tasty, though a bit oily, Chapati and sipped tea.

Albert had to go to work, but his friend Ramsey came over to take us through the city for a bit. After having driven through windy dirt roads packed with brightly dressed people, and then insufferable traffic of the paved streets we arrived at city center. Just as I stepped out of the car a bit of unintelligible commotion came from behind. Two sharply dressed men smushed their way into the backseat, and it was clear they weretrying to prevent us from exiting. Events turned surreal at that point.

When I looked back our new host Ramsey was holding a plastic card handed to him by one of the men. His hand shaking and fear in his wide eyes did not do well for my own stress level. What in the world have we just gotten in to?! Rapid chatter in Swahili came from each inhabitant, except of course myself and Jessica who stared at each other, wide eyed, a mix of confusion and fear plastered on our faces, as I mouthed to her an appropriately phrased “what…the…fuck?”

It soon became clear that these were police officials. Our taxi driver had pulled over “illegally” and they were threatening to take us to the police station with a huge fine. The driver handled the situation after some time by subtely handing a wad of cash to one of the upstanding officers. Everyone smiled awkwardly, shook hands with each other, with us, and the men were on their way to extort more money from the citizens they are sworn to “protect and serve”.

Obviously frazzled I strapped by bag across my back and we began walking. It did not feel like a safe neighborhood, many eyes staring at us, so I rearranged by bag to hold it closer to my chest. About two minutes later I got a tap on my shoulder. It was one of the officers from before. In his hand he held a little metal box; my medicine box! Funny, my bag was unzipped, it must have slipped out. The second officer came from behind with a third man pinched at the neck between his fingers. They explained (mostly in pantomime) that this man had been rooting through my bag in the 60 seconds I was not paying attention.

Before I could even say thank you, the officer holding the theif by the neck swung his right arm in a strong uppercut to the thief’s jaw. The officer continued slapping and beating the man for a good minute as a small crowed formed around us. Then the officers walked off, and the thief stumbled quickly away. Ramsey said the thief was lucky, if he’d stolen more or harmed us, the crowed would have almost definitely killed him.

All in the first 12 hours of being in Africa! Quite a welcoming!

The massive guard with a shotgun outside the money exchange office still didn’t quite set us at ease. The rest of the day was spent exploring Dar es Salaam. Nothing much of a city really, dusty, busy, concrete jungle. There were a couple nice parks and some tall government buildings, but the real highlight of the day was the fish market, though it did smell a bit fishy.

There is one major difference between here and any other city we have ever visited: the surprising lack of white people. Now obviously we don’t expect the locals to look like us, but what I mean is, aside from two Japanese tourists, we seem to be the only tourists. Probably not a great signifier that we should stay long in Dar. As you can imagine we are somewhat more of a curiosity to the locals than anywhere else we have ever been, receiving long stares. I get the sneaking suspicion some of them are thinking “what the hell are they even doing here?”

We met later with Albert after his shift as a driver at the YWCA, and the four of us ate dinner at a cute pub. Fried chicken and rice dinner was good and we got a taste of the local beer, Serengetti Lager. Our hosts tried to teach us more Swahili, then we headed back and slept a bit more soundly than last night.

06.30.12

In the morning Albert brought us to the bus station in a taxi. We boarded and said our fond farewells, thanking him profusely for being a great host. Then we sat in the hot, diesel fumed bus for over an hour until it grumbled to life and headed off to Tanga.

The scenery along the way was beautiful. I knew that people in this part of the world still lived in traditional mud huts, I just thought it would be in far away rural areas, not just along the side of a major freeway. Bright red earthen brick filled in between wooden stakes and sealed with more red mud. It is humbling how many people still live in these types of domeciles, but I it is cheap and efficient!

We arrived in Tanga 8 hours later and were swarmed by touts offering to take us to this hotel or that. For once we trusted the driver to take us to a place better looking than the one we had picked out. Inn by the Sea was an oasis compared to our last location.

For 25,000 Tshillings/night ($17) it was a serious bargain for the beautiful view over the beach! We settled in, took showers, then walked one building over for some prawns and chicken masala dinner overlooking the bay. Down below a massive wedding party comenced, with a large crowd in their finest garb dancing to upbeat Swahili music.

07.01.12

We made an arrangement with a guide for a bike tour to some caves and villages. I was certain his price was far too low at 9,000Tsh, but I re-confirmed many times and while he has a thick accent, it sounded very clear that this was the extremely low price he was offering for a tour.

He met us after breakfast, we walked to town, grabbed bikes and took a lovely ride along the coast. My tire went flat and a gentelman with a very convenient spot set up along the road helped fix it.

We passed through cute villages along red dirt roads and children calling out “Mambo, mambo!” Then our guide asked for payment now so he could easily give money to the guard at the caves. This is when it would have been handy to write down the number I thought I heard him say, nine-thousand, although this time he was much more clear pronouncing the ty in ninety-thousand! $60 for a bike ride to some caves?! I think not buddy! I handed him 20,000Tsh, more than enough for his services and said we would pay the entrance fees ourselves.

We have dealt with trickery of this sort before, not quite a scam, but certainly quite aggravating. Sure enough the fees to enter the caves were equally ludicrous. 1,000Tsh for locals and 20,000Tsh for tourists. Now that is a scam; just to enter some granite caves and get crapped on by bats. High tourist prices have always been a thing of annoyance; when they charged us an arm to enter the Taj Mahal, we paid it, but that was the Taj Mahal. We cut our losses this time, figured it was at least a beautiful ride, and headed back. But not before stopping by a local village and drinking some funky tasting coconut wine.

We strolled the city of Tanga, but there is not much to see. Some crumbling concrete structures built by the colonial Germans and that’s about it. We had a good lunch served by an albino waitress at a little hole in the wall place then made the walk back to our hotel.

We met a Dutch couple there and sat down for a chat overlooking the beach. One of the most (potentially) fatal errors we made coming on this trip was not bringing Malaria prophylactics (I know, sorry parents, stupid mistake). Before coming we researched and learned that A. Tanzania does not have as much Malaria as the rest of Africa, and B. that it was low mosquito season. According to the locals and everyone else we asked, those figures are dead wrong and mozzies are definitely out and about! To our luck our new Dutch friend, who has been living here for 6 months, had exactly enough pills leftover for us to start taking now and last us through the rest of our trip. Here’s to a Malaria-free adventure!

After a stroll along the beach during sunset the dutch couple took us to a wood-oven pizza place around the corner for a lovely dinner and gave us some advice about traveling in Tanzania, what we could and couldn’t miss, how to stay safe, etc. They made us jealous and excited with pictures of the awesome wildlife they saw on Safari.

While the novelty of being some of the only tourists around is nice, it is also nice to meet folks like this to show us the ropes and swap travel stories.

07.02.12

A dala-dala is a small chinese-built bus that goes back and forth through cities cramming as many people in as possible and stopping every 20 seconds to pick up more. This is what we took to the bus station in the morning. Though thankfully Tanzanians wake up later than we were up and the bus was rather quiet.

The journey to Pangani in the next dala-dala was bumpy, I had no leg room, people sat on me, but otherwise painless. The tire went flat halfway there and we all got out to some beautiful jungle surroundings along a dirt road.

The driver’s assistent was very helpful and dropped us off at the road to our hotel, suggested by a friend, a few kilometers from town. The hotel was a serene 5min walk through jungle from the road. When we got to the iron gate, a pair of legitimate Maasai warriors in traditional red garb, recycled black tire sandals, thin wooden canes, and facial scarring gave a friendly greeting. We later found out these guys are not asked to dress in their traditional clothing just for tourists, they do it merely because they know how badass they are. Our soon to be hotel host explained later how effective the Maasai were at preventing anything bad from happening on the grounds. Hell, I wouldn’t mess with these guys either.

The Mkoma Bay Luxury Tents Hotel was far beyond anywhere the two of us have stayed without parental accompaniment. “Luxury tents” barely begins to describe the spacious, well-decorated safari tents, complete with hot water, a massive bed, and modern bathroom. We have come a long way from slumming it my friends, but some would say we deserve it (mainly us…we would say that).

The hotel grounds are immaculately groomed, covered in cute white & grey Vervet monkeys, poolside bar, cushy dining nooks overlooking the stunning ocean atop a cliff, with a constant cool breeze. Lisa, a native Californian and her grey-mustaccioed Danish husband Ulrich along with their two beautiful German Shepards run the place like pros, ensuring each guest is experiencing the maximum level of comfort. With an occupancy of maybe 50 guests, there are five of us. Just before hitting the on-season. Sweet.

The rest of the day involved swimming in the pool and laying in the sun, chasing monkeys. A vacation away from vacationing. An incredible candle-lit dinner was served in the evening and we got to know the three Germans we were sharing the entire grounds with.

07.03.12

In the morning we bushwacked a hike along the completely empty and stunningly beautiful coast. We were in awe of the mangrove forrests, massive birds, purple sand beaches, funky tide pool life, and absolute lack of any other human beings. Bliss.

On our return, more pool, more sun, some delicious lunch, monkey chasing. Then we braved the rough surf and took out a kayak. Probably not the best idea, but we didn’t go far.

The evening was really roughing it, more conversation with the Germans to an equally spectacular candle-lit dinner. This place is sheer paradise.

07.04.12

In the morning the five of us were driven to the city with our gear and hopped on a wood motor boat with two guides. In an hour we were snorkeling a beautiful reef then lounging on a completely desolate white sand beach. We didn’t see lion fish, but lots of Parrot fish, clown fish, clams, and just about all the colors of the rainbow. On the beach we ate lunch and watched the crabs wander by.

Got back with some sunburns, took naps, did the usual relaxing stuff, then had a BBQ 4^th of July dinner with the now larger population of guests who arrived today. No fireworks though, how tragic.

Well the first part of this blog was good, but writing the last few days certainly did suck. Nonetheless it was amazing to experience. Our photos should be more entertaining visuals for those last few boringly read days. We’ll get into more trouble so there is better stories in the future.

The pics might not be all on the Flickr site. It is challenging to find fast internet out here, but check soon:

http://www.flickr.com/flufflebuns/sets

The many faces of Istanbul. July 1, 2012

Well it’s summer vacation and Jess and I have nearly 3 months off (ah, the perks of being a teacher!). It’s time to keep up with our life goal of visiting at least one new country each year. People say this life goal will change as we get older with kids, failing limbs, dementia, balding, but we damn well intend not to let life get in the way of eventually visiting every country on the planet!

I sure gave up on the last trip’s blog after Oregon, but here is a summary of the rest of the trip using only a string of single words: seattle, coffee, beer, crab, snow, deer, ice, forrest, hiking, eating, beer, canada, vancouver, victoria, beer, banf, bears, waterfall, blue, lake, moose, elk, camping, squirrels, idaho, boats, pancakes, montana, wedding, sky, missoula, hippies, barbeque, beer, mines, radiation, arizona, night, drive, tahoe, home. BAM, match that with the pictures and your all caught up with our travels.

Flickr.com/flufflebuns/sets

And now on to the current adventure:

06.20-21.12

Turkish airlines was awesome: good food, good service, good selection of entertainment, free liquor, enough to keep occupied for 13 hours. 3 movies, a couple glasses of whiskey/wine, and a nap later and we were in Byzantium…no wait, Constantinople…no wait Istanbul…er…all three?!

As always Jess had a plan. We had a couchsurfer to meet in the city center. Her journal laid out the new journey we were to embark upon involving a subway, a bus, and a walk through a busy plaza. Things got hairy when we couldn’t figure out the subway to bus transfer point, but this was the moment when we got our first tastes of Turkish hospitality. People were literally falling over eachother to help us lost looking travellers. Eventually an incredibly friendly Kenyan showed us the way.

We soon met Ahmet in Taksim Square. With his two friends we had dinner at a cute place which felt a bit like a cafeteria, but had good home-cooked Turkish food; just what you’d expect, eggplant, meat in sauces, cheese, etc.

The night finished watching a football game (do I really have to call it soccer?) with Ahmet and friends as they tried to tell us about the city and teach us some Turkish. “Thank you” sounds like Teh-shek-ur-ler, probably the most difficult “thank you” we have tried to learn alongside Kap-kun-krup (Thai), Tee-ree-mak-a-se (Malay), Dahn-ya-vad (Hindi), and Gam-ung (Vietnamese).

06.22.12

Ahmet could only host us one night so we strapped our backpacks on and headed to Galata Tower where our hostel awaited. We threw our bags into a 6 person bunk room, sat down to a complimentary breakfast, and quickly hit the town.

Walking across the Galata Bridge gave an awesome feel for the city. The view on either side of the bridge is a smattering of tall, but squat pastel buildings, sprinkled with mosques towering in the background which call prayer over loudspeakrs 5 times a day (Alllllaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh Hu Akbar!), long fish lines thrown over the side into the Bosphorous Sea, vendors peddling various goods of roasted corn, roasted chestnuts, kebap meat, as seagulls and swallows squaked overhead.

Walking through the spice bazaar was tantilizing and tempting, but we had to resist the sweets until we could better guage how much we should be paying for things so we can best de-rust our bargaining skills.

Next stop was the Archeology Museum inside of the Topkapi Palace park. We splurged for the Istanbul museum pass, knowing we would try to see as many as possible in the coming days. The Arhcaology Museum was a fun romp through Istanbul’s extensive history dating back to the Hittites, the Romans, the Byzantines, and finally the Ottomans.

We caugh some moderatly dissapointing fast food Doner, then headed to the mother of holy buildings the Hagia Sophia (Who knew it was in Istanbul?) Of course only English speakers called it Ha’G'ia Sophia, the locals and everyone else calls it Aya Sophia, but whatever we speak AMERICAN, not Turkish, and that G in Hagia is part of our heritage dammit! I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore…it’s late right now.

Okay so from the outside it really isn’t too remarkable, I mean it was built like 1,700 years ago, but the inside was extraordinary! It was built by the Roman emperor Constantine (Get it now? Constantinople) as a testament to the Roman Empire’s official conversion to Christianity, though Jesus didn’t seem to help much as the Roman Empire was shortly thereafter wrought with civil war and shattered to pieces by invading Franks, Alemani, Visigoths, and Sumaritans. The Byzantines hung out for awhile, renamed this city Byzantium for a short, seldom spoken of period of like 1,000 years, then the Muslim Ottomans took the city, named it Istanbul, and put up Muslims stuff inside each church. As they say in Thailand: “Same same, but different.”

The place has awesome mosaics, sweet architecture, pretty islamic caligraphy, cool colors, chandeliers, what’s not to love? Plus it’s not even a mosque anymore, just a museum; a testament to the modern secularization of Turkey (yay secularism!).

We tried to see the Topkapi palace next, but the crowds, sore feet, heat exhaustion, and jet lag had us hopping on the next tram to the hill we had to climb to our hostel. Shower water wiped off the sweat, and a quick nap the exhaustion.

We hit the town one more time to a great local spot with Turkish gypsy music playing and a delicious meal of Turkish pizza, eggplant-wrapped kebap, and what meal isn’t complete without Turkish tea? After dinner we headed to a Couchsurfing meetup at a bar for some cheap draft beers, shitty pop music, and chatting with 30+ couchsurfers from around the world. Our favorite part about the bar scene here is that you can take your drinks outside instead of having to suffer inside with the blaring music.

The city stays awake LATE, far too late for our exhausted selves. So we marched home and fell into dreamland.

06.23.12

We headed back to finish off the museums at Topkapi Palace, the center of the Ottoman sultanate. There was a good bit of drama at the gate as apparently our museum passes are good for 72 hours, but do not allow re-entry. Since we came and left yesterday they did not wish to let us in. Through pure stubborness and pleading with a nearby police officer, he reluctantly let us in through the back way, more to shut us up than anything; success!

Topkapi Palace is amazing. We learned a great deal about the Harems the Sultans would keep here, with hundreds of especially chosen non-muslim slaves (since Muslim women could not be kept as slaves). If anything at least the Sultans gave a huge diversity to Turkey’s gene pool!. Within the beautifully achitectured buildings we got to see some stunning relics given as gifts over centuries from around the world. The pictures of the hope diamond do it no justice. When it sparkles in the light it is truly a stunning sight. The history of it is neat too; origins unknown it was found in a rubbish heap, sold by a vendor for next to nothing, appraised as one of the largest diamonds in the world, given as a gift and worn by the Sultan as a piece of jewelry on his turban. No pictures allowed of the prettiest stuff, but here is a good one of the splendid architecture and design.

Our bellies a’grumbling we headed back into the busy foray of the city. Worldwide we are annoyed by the dozens of restauranteers hawking their restaurants loudly over the others, but we settled at a very nice looking place, with an incredibly friendly staff (who didn’t shout at us to enter their restaurant). We chose correctly, it was undoubtedly the best meal we have had yet. Succulent kebap, poofy fermented breads, spiced pepper paste, and anatolian chicken, washed down with the local Eres beer, and later some bitter Turkish chai.

Next stop was the Blue Mosque. Far more impressive outside than within. Tourists had to cover shoulders and legs, take off shoes, and head in. It was nice, but nothing compared to Hagia Sophia.

We were tired, very tired, but had to take full advantage of our museum passes. So we hit up one more Islamic Arts museum. It was great, beautiful rugs, carvings, mozaics, but tough to enjoy as we sluggishly yet efficiently roamed the halls.

The next stop, the Mosaic Museum, we were almost thankful was closed for repairs, we needed naps. So that’s what we did. We headed back to the hostel, showered the sweat off our bodies, and rested for a bit.

But we were soon off again for another culinary adventure to try the famous fish sandwiches; cooked in a floating kitchen lit up with neon lights, with raw onions, lettuce, and lemon juice we enjoyed in plastic chairs rubbing shoulders with the locals. We also tried a local favorite of pickle juice, definitely not as delicious as it sou….oh never mind.

We spent the next couple hours sitting at a cafe under the Galata bridge smoking Nargile (hukka), watching to locals go by and chatting with some very sophisticated Jordinian girls. The hukka made us a bit nauseus as we were not sharing with a group. We headed back and went to sleep…

…but were shortly awoken by the two completely beligerent Australian girls we were sharing a room with. Vodka, water, and .1% Hydrochloric Acid soon spilled all over our floor and through the hall to the bathroom. Jess and I jumped into caretaker mode and soon had them filled with rehydration salts in water, the vomit cleaned up with hostel towels, one girl in bed on her side with an empited trash can by her head, anf the other resting on towels with her head on the toilet. Ah, hostel life; expected the unex…well I guess this kind of this is expected afterall.

06.24.12

A break from the hustle and bustle of the city, today we found ourselves on a boat with 30 couchsurfers, about half Turkish, the other half visitors, cruising through the Bosphorous and Marmara Seas. Until this point it was difficult to discern who is Turkish and who is a traveler, but getting to meet a group of born and blooded Turks we got a sense of how they can be identified. What we found is that it is completely impossible to identify the quintessential Turkish person; red hair, blonde hair, black hair, curls, straight, dark skin, light skin, headscarf, no headscarf, big nose, small nose, the Turkish people seem to have absolutely no identifying features. This comes from millenia of cultures mixing in the ultimate melting pot between Eastern and Western cultures. The only thing our Turkish couchsurfing brethren shared in common is that they were all really fun to hang out with all day.

The trip took us along the city, a truly massive beast stretching to near infinite. We stopped by some bustling islands where tourists and locals alike flocked for a weekend getaway. Then we headed to a busy little cove for some swimming with stingless Jellyfish in surprisingly cold water (I thought this was the mediteranean?!) We made friends with an Austran girl, a Russian couple, an incredibly enthusiastic Egyptian fellow (according to Jessica also incredibly attractive), A Brazilian girl (sporting your traditional Brazilian bikini), a Mexican girl, Libyan guy (very happy for the recent coup against Ghaddaffi), and the many amiable aforementioned Turks! A truly international adventure.

06.25.12

A Hamam is a traditional Turkish bath, a necessary experience for any visitor to Turkey. A smiling portly man picked us up in his grey Hyundai. His car sputtered up and down the cities vicious hills until up one particularly steep hill it made it’s last put and died. A friendly man nearby and I helped him push the car out of the way of traffic and we walked the rest of the way to the Hamam.

We knew it had to be a good place because no one spoke English here. We were soon disrobing and wrapping ourselves in thin, red/white, linen Turkish bath towels. The bath is really a large dome-topped stone cavern with a giant marble slab in the middle and faucets and stone enclaves for cleansing with fresh water. We poured water on ourselves and lay on the slab, soaking in the intense heat billowing from below. We were alone and our voices echoed pleasantly off the walls.

Soon the portly man returned wrapped in a similar blanket to us. He slapped my belly and uttered “Sure you not Turkish?” followed by gutteral laughs by all. Then came the Turkish massage. More like meat tenderizing really, but with more soap. I laughed loudly, but only to mask the screams which would have eminated in lieu. Jessica laughed in a more Schadenfreude, less agonized sort of way.

We relaxed more, my muscles now feeling as loose as rice noodles. Soon a woman came to give Jessica the same treatment; needless to say she handled the pain much better than I.

Then we did a bit more relaxing around the city. Tea in a cute little cafe, more succlent meat and mezze plates while watching the locals do local stuff from a veranda. We wandered, we laughed, we marveled, we talked, we took pictures, and more pictures. It was fun.

Next stop was the Grand Bazaar. In the height of it’s glory during the Ottoman empire I am sure it was a majestic place, trading luxuries, spices, textiles, and precious gems from around the world. Nowadays it is reduced to cheesy tourist shit made from China sold by psuedo-friendly hawkers charging 10x what you can get the stuff for down the street. Still it is an experience, and we flexed our bartering skills, bringing some nice scarves from 65 Turkish Liras ($37) to 15 Liras each. We still likely got ripped off.

In the evening we headed to our new Couchsurfer’s place. It ended up being a needlessly long adventure taking the long way from metro to metro to metro, but we got to see a bit more of the city through the windows.

We got to the staion we needed to be. It was dark, and Jessica’s directions were not particularly clear. Ending up walking in the wrong direction we took a taxi ride from a driver far more clueless of our destination than we were. He stopped by a police kiosk and the man holding a machine gun let us use his phone to call our host Yucif.

Turned out we were quite far away from Yucil’s, but by sheer coincidence a mere two houses away from his good friend. This incredibly generous friend walked over to the police station, brought us to his house for some dinner, and the three of us and his French guests headed to Yucils. We met with another Turkish girl, a Belgian fellow and his Finnish, blonde hair, blue lazy-eyed travel partner. It was an evening of tea, beer, philosiphizing, then bed.

06.26.12

Of this day there is little to tell. We have exhausted most touristik activities so we upgraded to the next level of Istanbul travel: simply moving from tea house to tea house, taking in the city and sipping copious amounts of coffee and tea. One place, Lebi-Derya, had a particularly breathtaking view of the city.

We sat for hours, just enjoying the breeze, and the tea. Funny thing; no matter where you go or how much you pay (at this posh establishment almost $2 a glass, at others maybe $0.25), the tea always tastes the same and is served in the exact same clear, glass, female-figure shaped container.

We wandered more through the city, picking up random souvenirs here and there; bath soaps, turkish towels, clinky things, you know, crap we don’t need. Eventually we made our way to a particularly grand mosque, Suleiyman, the architectual opus of the famous Sinan. Finally a mosque beautiful on both the outside and within!

We took the bus home and went to bed early.

06.27.12

Yucil treated us to a deliciously authentic breakfast of dates, almond pate, hazelnut pate, various breads, honey, dried cranberries, olives, and of course tea. Notice a theme yet with the tea? Everyone in Turkey is drinking tea every waking moment of every day. There must be some law which probits citizens from being a certain distance from tea. In the bussier parts of the city you see men carrying steel trays stacked with tiny clear glass cups filled with Turkey’s finest amber chai, scurrying deftly from vendor to vendor on the city streets delivering the devine ambrosia. This tradition does not stop in the home apparently. Fun fact: Turkish also only seem to use cubed sugar.

We then made the trip by bus then boat across the sea to a new continent. Istanbul sits right at the split between Asia and Europe. Look it up on a map it’s cool…you can do it now, I’ll wait…………

The aptly named Asian side is the more affordable, thus hipper side of Istanbul, it’s the equivilent of how Oakland is to San Fransicso. Tattoo shops, smoke shops, cute little cafes, and the first bicyclists we have seen in a week. Feels like home! Just to be ironic we ate at an American themed restaurant. Neither of us were brave enough to try the Burritos, knowing there was no possibility of them being done justice. The meal wasn’t particularly amazing, but I guess that was expected.

We headed up another long flight of stairs to yet another rooftop cafe, a city tradition. We sat and enjoyed the view of the other side sipping more tea and coffee of course.

We headed back around commute time, which was fun to see that so many thousands of people’s commute involved taking an efficient ferry to and from entirely different continents.

Yucil invited a number of friends over. We listened to live music from a lute and guitar as the group sang some traditional Turkish songs. More beer, more tea, and lots of delicious Turkish delight we brought. Jess and I headed to bed at 1pm, all night it seemed the remaining members of the gathering drank tea and played backgammon.

06.28.12

And here we are. I am finishing up typing this upon the airplane to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. The day was mostly uneventful, we wandered Yucil’s neighborhood, went to a post office to send stuff home worth probably the amount of postage we paid, then headed to the airport.

Bye bye Turkey, you were fantastic as expected. Hello AFRICA!

Oregon: a beer lover’s paradise August 8, 2011

07.23.11 Eugene

Eugene has to be the most blatantly hippie town we have ever been. It makes Santa Cruz and San Francisco seem like Provo, Utah. In other words: we loved it! As I mentioned before the entire city is teeming with greenery with beautiful little homes tucked between. Everywhere is walk-able, so after waking and walking to an astounding veggie breakfast at a hip little cafe with the best carrot-cake muffin I have ever consumed, we walked then to the cities Saturday farmers market.

The market was a big deal; lots of delicious local food and unique crafts. This was where the ultra-hippie-ness of Eugene became apparent as everyone congregated outside town hall for a big crusty drum circle. In the middle of the chaos was this ancient couple of old hippies.

I have determined that this is to be Jessica and I in fifty or so years, but I think we’d better start doing way more drugs! I guess I will just have to get used to Jessica having a beard too.

More proof that Eugene is one of the weirder cities on the planet is shown in the following two photos. Observe in photo number 1 how dirty and crusty the dancing hippies are.

In this next picture is apparently a church group playing instruments to the accompaniment of said crusty hippies.

This is why we loved Eugene. Only here can two so different groups come together in such peace and harmony. Retirees and hippies, hipsters and young families, driven college students and complete slackers: Eugene has something for everyone!

We loved exploring more of the farmers market, then headed to the “Taste of Eugene” event, where dozens of stalls served utterly delicious food and beer at particularly low prices for a food festival. Seriously, like $2 for chicken skewers, $1 for homemade corn bread, $3 for beer. Oregon is awesome.

The day of food, fun, friends and beer ended with cake, followed by resting our feet and chatting at Christina’s humble abode. Eugene is a cute city, but more exploration beckons, so onward and upward!

07.24.11 Eugene to Bend

Our first stop on our way to Bend was at Cougar hot springs. We parked along a massive reservoir and did the short hike to a series of five rock pools of steaming hot mineral water. In the pools sat a variety of people including a very loud, very large, and very drunk family of…what’s a polite way of saying it: “town-folk”? All of fourteen teeth between them clacking away made the scene a wee-tad uncomfortable, though thankfully the heat and liquor got the best of them and they picked up and left.

We were left then with a bunch of naked older dudes, soaking to the bone. Not too much better, but we’ll take it. The pools were enjoyable, a bit too hot for me, but Jessica apparently thrives in volatile environments. The surroundings did give the pools a sincere charm, but soon we decided to hit the road, still so much to see!

The road from the springs to Bend was curvaceous and beautiful. What we did not expect, however, was massive volcanic rocks sprawling as far as the eye could see. Deschutes national forest was unexpectedly awesome in this respect. Lava rocks with pockets of lush forest and surrounded by snow-capped mountains. One of the more surreal and beautiful bits of scenery we have witnessed yet! The drive was spectacular, with a few wonderful spots to stop along to way for particularly picturesque views.

Bend was a far cuter city than we’d imagined. Initially our only reason for stopping through was one of our favorite Breweries, the aptly named Deschutes. What we found was a tiny California surf town, though neither in California, nor in fact anywhere near the ocean. That didn’t stop the locals from participating in water sports as nearly half the town had taken their board, inner-tube, or any floating device they could get their hands on, to lazily float down the river under a stunning blue sky, and big, bright yellow sun

After we headed to the local hotspot, 10 Barrels, for more awesome beer, and some sincerely delicious pub food. The place was packed with clean-cut locals ranging from tattooed youngsters to golf-attired adults. Not a crusty, smelly hippie for as far as the eye can see. Truly the antithesis of Eugene, Bend felt more like San Diego or Orange county coast, though maybe without as much plastic surgery?

We headed north again towards Mt. Hood and Portland. The night was soon upon us however, so we drove through some picturesque farmland to Cove Palisades State Park where we set up tent in an RV vacation park just a bit off of a massive river carving through a huge gorge.

07.25.11 – Mt. Hood

We awoke, pack up and left, taking in one last view over the gorge.

Through the farms we went again then up north to Mt. Hood State Park. Driving through the trees and fog was beautiful. Jess prefers clear blue skys, but I think the fog gives the trees a unique and eerie atmosphere. We took a right turn on some scenic road, and we ended up at the historical base lodge of Mt. Hood. We had some great views of the mountain plus the forest below, and in the charming lodge we received valuable information for the next part of our exploration of Mt. Hood.

We swooped through the tall trees of Mt. Hood and to the gorge which carves the border between Washington and Oregon. The gorge sported some great hiking and cascading waterfalls which we spend a good few hours exploring, then back in the car to hit Portland.

We headed directly to Jay and Teresa’s place where for the first time we got to meet baby Callie, almost 1 year old now! She was as adorable as the tales told, and seeing Teresa again for the first time in a long while was a great treat. Jay however, with his busy work schedule would not be home for hours, so Jess and I cooked a big dinner for everyone and chatted with Teresa about the joys and not-so-joys of motherhood.

Jay finally came home, we kept him up a bit past bedtime catching up, then we all hit the sack.

07.26.11 – Portland

Breakfast at the Swedish restaurant Broder was flawless. The place was cute, hip, and the food delicious. Every little detail was considered in this place, from the hot milk served in glass measuring bottles, to the square eggs. Truly Portlandish.

It is our second time in Portland, we had to give another visit to the bookstore behemoth: Powell’s Books. Apparently an entire city block was not enough books as they have since added another section of the store across the street. The city center is great with towering buildings dotted with hip cafes, unique shops, weird art, parks, fountains, and the usual spotting of meth-heads. If Eugene belongs to the Hippies, Bend to outdoor enthusiasts, then Portland belongs to Hipsters…and meth-heads. All three are unique, all three have amazing beer, with no sales tax, and all three we love! Oregon is quickly becoming a place we could consider moving.>

Next stop was an unexpectedly delicious brewery called Hopworks. We had their sampling of 12 beers, with some great bread sticks and salad. Beer is fun, and if we lived in this town, the HUB brewery would be a common hangout for us.

We headed back to meet Teresa and Callie for a walk (or for some of us, a backpack ride) through Reed University. A very cute brick campus splattered with vines and trees. On the way back I found he feeding habits of the locals ducks to be hysterical. They just stuck their heads underwater, their butts sticking out, I don’t know if everyone else was as amused.

Back at the homestead Callie met a group of her friends, the neighborhood young-uns. They quickly became fast friends of me as well, likely because I humor them with their odd questions, and my silly retorts. Soon they decided to pile on top of me, this is something that seems to happen often in my life, I’m like the Pied Piper.

Jay came home early and Jess and I cooked dinner for them, some salad, chicken, and pasta leftovers from the night before. We all went over the the neighbors place where the kids were getting naked around chickens and a tiny pool. After hanging out past sunset, we let Jay and Teresa catch some much needed sleep and headed out to see more of Portland.

This is when the greatest beer of my life, the opus of beer making, the pinnacle of greatness graced itself upon our lips. Cascade Barrel Brewing, and its crew of magical beer wizards, poured us a sampling of four glorious beers. Each brewed using old time traditional methods, lovingly hand brewed, with top ingredients, and aged to perfection in a variety of oak barrel casks previously used to ferment liquors such as Cabanet Sauvignon and Whiskey. The Bourbonic Plague, or as beer enthusiasts such as ourselves may call it “perfection.” A very dark, sour porter brewed in bourbon and wine barrels, with hints of vanilla and cinnamon and aged 14 months with dates. Now don’t let the description fool you, it is anything but a sweet beer: full bodied, thick, and incredibly delicious!

Such perfection comes at a cost. None of the beers are available for sale outside of the tasting room itself. The Bourbonic Plague, emperor of beers, is only bottled in tiny batches, typically only available on draft in this establishment. This particular brewing process I suppose is too precious to squander on plebeians with bottles.

After our tasting, the place closed for the night, only our greatest luck allowed us to get there minutes before. With the shutting of the gates, so shut my dreams…I guess we will just have to move to Portland…

The next stop was an English pub, the Brass Horse, cute, eclectic, and serving more local beers par excellence. Still, my thoughts and taste-buds had been Plagued, Bourbonic Plagued! Okay enough, likely no one but me cares how awesome it was…but seriously it was awesome. Oregon has conquered our taste-buds with good food and great beer at remarkably reasonable prices for everything…did I mention we would consider moving here?

Well that’s all of Oregon. As always the full set of pics is at our Flickr site:

http://www.flickr.com/flufflebuns/sets

And then: a grey whale in a river… July 31, 2011

07.21.11 - NW California to SW Oregon

We awoke early in Arcata to a haze of fog and began our journey north up the coast. Moonstone beach was as magnificent as the name sounds. It was impossible to tell where the fog ended and the white sand beach began.

We spent some time wandering around, checking out the tide pools, entranced by the eerie atmosphere created by the fog. Hours went by as we then cruised slowly up the coast stopping at every beach on the way. Eventually the fog cleared and we received some even more exquisite views.

Our first major stop for the day for some hiking was in Prairie Canyon State Park. We were promised by our Couchsurfer the night before that we would see Elk, and wouldn’t you know it, we got the royal treatment with no less than 15 elk cows and bucks along the beach. It was astounding getting close and snapping photos, taking in their full majesty. I didn’t even know we had elk in California!

The hike we then embarked on took us through a stunning canyon covered wall to wall in flowing ferns and wispy waterfalls. It was a great little hike.

We left the park particularly satisfied in all we’ve seen already today. As we drove we discussed the possibilities for camping tonight when we came to a bridge covered in people looking excitedly over the edge. At first we assumed people were merely excited about the view of the wide river, though it did not seem particularly astounding. I then spied a spout shoot out of the water, and reconsidered that theory. We parked and walked back to discover a grey whale and her baby had managed to swim upriver from the ocean outlet and was now swimming back and forth under the bridge. They may have come in at high tide and gotten caught in the river.

After plenty of time spent in awe of this creature, we got back in the car and soon hit the Oregon border. The evening ended viewing a gorgeous sunset behind a lighthouse on a hill near our campsite.

07.22.11 – Eugene Bound

The trip along the Oregon coast to Bend was more and more beauty. Along the way we turned off into an ultra-cute little port town named Bandon. We enjoyed some kitschy shops, crab sandwich and clam chowder, wandered the docks, grabbed some toffee and headed out.

We arrived in Eugene to our college friend Christina’s house in the afternoon. She rents a room in an amazing house with a huge garden in a neighborhood so choked by plants you feel you are still in the woods while walking the streets. For the evening we went with some of her friends to a bluegrass show with the aptly named “Water Tower Bucket Boys” who are really just four hipsters dressed in olde tyme clothes, playing olde tyme music. It was surprisingly fun, some good beer and dancing was enjoyed by all. The night ended with a long walk home late at night with the streets still bustling with bicyclists and tipsy party-goers.

More to come about Eugene and our journey to Bend, Portland, Seattle and beyond. It is a great trip thus far, sorry I am a tad behind in writing, there is simply so much to do!

As always the pictures we take can be found in our Flickr albums at:

http://flickr.com/flufflebuns/sets