African Adventures

All Good Things.....

2006-07-20T07:16:00.000-07:00

Right South Africa. It's been a while since I updated, so I'll attempt to provide a brief and hopefully entertaining summary of our last five weeks.

So we rolled into Cape Town from Namibia and spent 6 days seeing the sites. Not even close to enough. The highlight for me was climbing Table Mountain. At our hostel, we met a potentially insane German who knew of an "alternate" route to the summit that he explained should be pretty easy but might require some moderate bouldering. Yeah. So being possibly insane ourselves, we followed him up the "Windows path". Pretty much straight up the steepest part of the mountain, this trail had the added excitement of being directly under the gondola so all day trippers could witness the increasingly dramatic wipeouts as we tried to claw our way up a skree slope. The crazy German also required us to take a series of misleadingly precarious photos of him appearing to dangle over a gorge. I think he wanted to impress a girl.

We also visited Robben Island, the former prison for Apartied era political prisoners including Nelson Mandela. Being about half way through Mandela's autobiography, I thought it was super interesting. Steve's highlight of the entire trip was watching penguins try to cross the busy street outside the prison.

After Cape Town we rented yet another Chico and headed up to South Africa's wine region of Stellenbosch and it was there the debauchery began. We started off slow the first day by taking a wine tour. Good times. Day two, we rented bikes with the ambition to ride around to about 8 wineries. We made it to 3. They really fill up those taster glasses and the bottle of Chenin Blanc at lunch didn't help. After lunch, stuffed full of cheese products and most certainly cranked, we serious considered ditching the bikes in the creek and hitching as we rode up what had to be the biggest hill in South Africa to our next tasting. We abandoned the operation about half way and rocketed back down the hill to our hostel. I really don't recommend physical activity and heavy drinking if you're over thirty.

From Stellenbosch we carried on up the coast along what the South African's call the "Garden Route". We saw some whales, did some great coastal hikes and drank through the small arsenal of wine we had stuffed in the trunk of the Chico.

Next we visited Grahamstown, which is completely void of activity 356 days a year, but it really picks up for 9 days in July when it is home to a poorly organized international arts festival. When we arrived in town, the only available accommodation was at an old jail in which we had to pitch our tent straddling a waste water gutter. Despite the dismal sleeping arrangements and complete lack of organization of the festival, we did manage to see some great music, films and theatre, so it ended up being well worth it.

Then it was on to Hogsback. This tiny town in the middle of the mountains is rumoured to be the place that inspired J.R.R. Tolkien to write Lord of the Rings. Consequently all the shops and restaurants have names like "Hog and Hobbit" and the subdivisions are called "Hobbiton" and "Bag End". Despite the thinly veiled attempt to capitalize on the brief visit of a five year old Tolkien who at the time was probably more interested in playing with the ubiquitous stray dogs than looking for literary inspiration, the place was quite beautiful and our guesthouse was our first interlude of peace in a sea of shitty backpacker accommodations.

We then moved onto the "Wild Coast". The area owes its name to the string of shipwrecks that litter it's shores (many were apparently sunk intentionally for the insurance claims). While we were in town, the small village of Coffee Bay was also hosting a music festival of sorts, although it turned out to be more of a pot smoking, amateur hippy drum fest. The two cynics that are Steve and I quickly lost interest as a guesthouse owner who was sporting a yin-yang tattoo and dreadlocks, led us down to the festival grounds and explained that the festival was about energy and if we just gave off good energy we'd get good energy back. We used the rest of our good energy to hike it out of there and to another guesthouse to spend the night.

From there we went on to Durban to stay with a couple of characters that have already been featured in this blog. The two guys, Peter and Alan, we met on the ferry from Dar to Zanzibar who befriended us despite my growing state of illness, had us out to stay with them for a couple of days. We had an absolute blast. Quite possibly the best hosts ever, they provided us with our first decent bed in months and treated us to a real South African Braai (really just a BBQ with no side dishes). We hung out with them and their kids (I don't know if I mentioned they are around 55) for two days and we didn't want to leave.

From Durban we headed into the heart of Zululand and partook in the culturally enlightening activity of scuba diving. We then went on to the Drakensberg mountains for a few more days of hiking.

We are now back in Stellenbosch (of course), spending our last few days touring around some more wineries.

A constant source of entertainment for us driving around southern Africa is that they call traffic lights "Robots". Every time we see a sign that says "Robots ahead" or "Pedestrians wait for the green robot" we laugh like idiots. My personal favorite was near the customs office between Zimbabwe and Zambia. The sign said "Please stop at the robot for inspection".

In the last 25 days we drove about 4500 kms and saw some of the best parts of South Africa, but we could have spent months here. Our rental Chico is slightly cleaner than our car in Namibia, but a South African high school student could do a science project on the front end of the car entitled "Insects of South Africa - A Collage". I'm sure the rental agency will be happy.

Well, since we will be flying back to Canada on Saturday and I intend to spend the next two days taking advantage of the weak South African Rand by shopping my butt off, I guess this officially concludes my "African Adventures" blog. If anyone out there actually read this occasionally, I hope our misadventures provided you with a few laughs and some good work time procrastination. It's been a blast.

Later Skaters

Jackal, It's the New Mink

2006-06-19T07:43:00.000-07:00

"Take the B2 about 50 km past Grootfontein, take a left at Roy's Hunting Farm and drive about 80 km on the dirt road. When you reach a fence, make a left onto a sand road and drive about 7 km to a big tree. At the big tree, park and wait. The Bushmen will come for you". These were the directions we obtained from a drunken American couple on our last night in Zimbabwe. They were accompanied by a rudimentary map scribbled on a napkin. When you find yourselves in possession of such a map, that will take you into the remotest depths of Namibia, you really have only one choice. Rent yourselves a VW Chico and drive out there tout suite.

The Bushmen are the oldest inhabitants of southern Africa. Traditionally a nomadic hunter and gatherer tribe, they are responsible for the most elaborate and ancient rock art in the world. Few tribes still exist due to government restrictions on hunting. Fortunately we were about to encounter one of the few that remain.

After a 6 hour drive from Namibia's capital of Windhoek we pulled up to the biggest tree we could find in the area. And oh yes, the Bushmen came.

The next thing I knew I was kneeling in the sand, wearing a jackal hide, smoking rabbit shit and learning how to poison an arrow head with worm guts. I don't know if you've ever seen a jackal, but they aren't the largest of animals and hence their hides aren't the most concealing of clothing options. As a personal discovery, I apparently have no problem with going "boobs out" in the company of about 40 tribes people. I actually had it easy. Steve was sauntering around in nothing but a loin cloth. Photo evidence exists, although I doubt we'll be posting it on the internet.

We spent two days with the Bushmen and it was two of the most unique days of our entire trip. They were absolutely amazing. Only one guy spoke broken English, but we somehow managed to communicate. We learned all about their traditional way of life. Steve learned to hunt and I learned to gather food with the women. The Bushmen are big on the gender roles. It was an incredible experience and we've passed on the directions to fellow travelers.

After leaving the Bushmen, we still had eight days with the Chico and we headed to the biggest game park in Namibia, Etosha National Park. I never fully appreciated the art of game driving as we'd always traversed game parks with a properly trained guide. In our first day, I managed to seriously alarm an extremely large male elephant by pulling up beside him far too quickly. The elephant responded by charging our car. I imagine the tire skid marks I created as I tore out of there in blind fear are permanently imbedded in the dirt road. Steve and Pam (a 60 year old Aussie woman we'd picked up somewhere along the way) were laughing themselves hysterical, while I came extremely close to soiling myself. Later, I also startled a large pride of lions, but they handled it a bit better and didn't attack us.

Luckily, by this time, Steve's standard driving skills had developed quite nicely (due in no small part to his teacher I'm sure) and he drove around the park the following day.

After Etosha, we drove down Namibia's Skeleton Coast. This area owes its name to the fact that hundreds of ships have crashed into it's shores killing hundreds of sailors. This 400 km stretch of dismal gravel road is the definition of "the middle of no where". For some added excitement in this region, we blew our first tire. Neither Steve nor I are what anyone would call "handy" and our collective knowledge on tire changing consisted of watching a drunk transport truck driver attempt (and fail) to change a tire in northern Ethiopia. Fortunately, as we discovered, it's actually pretty much idiot proof (but apparently not drunk proof) and we managed to get the spare tire attached to the car and it actually stayed on the rest of the trip.

Beyond the Skeleton Coast lay Swapkomund, a killer little town in the middle of the desert. In Swap, we tried our luck at sandboarding. The standing up version was pretty tough and we lasted about three runs (partly because you had to walk back up the sand dune). Then we tried the lying down version which happily required absolutely no skill and was insanely fun. You basically lay on a piece of ply wood and rocket down the dune at breakneck (I use that term literally) speed. Equipped with a radar gun, the guides clocked us around 74 km/hour each run. Good times!

Finally from Swap we headed to the famous Namibian sand dunes of Sossusvlei. These dunes are the highest in the world and we spent a couple of days running up and down them. Also very good times, although I could have used some of that ply wood.

Much to our dismay, we had to return our car after ten days of fun. As a consequence of using primarily gravel roads, the entire interior was coated with enough dust to choke a goat. The rental company was really pleased.

We are back in Windhoek now, heading to Cape Town tonight.

We now have car fever and plan to rent another in South Africa. 5 weeks and counting. Can't believe it.

Yes Way Zimbabwe!

2006-06-06T02:55:00.000-07:00

"Why the HELL would you want to go there?". This was the standard response of fellow African travelers who discovered we planned to visit Zimbabwe. None of these people had actually been to the country, but the source of their strong opinions was the fact that Zim is currently in a state of economic ruin.

Nevertheless we were undeterred (Okay, I was a little deterred but Steve was adamant that it would be fine). So we took the 12 hour bus ride from southern Malawi, through Mozambique to the Zimbabwean capital of Harare and sweet Pete we are glad we did.

Now, for reasons I don't even want to get into, it's no exaggeration to say that Zimbabwe is an economic disaster. For Zimbabweans this is a complete nightmare, but tourists can actually travel through the country fairly easily although the economic situation can make things "interesting". Inflation is 1000%. 1 US dollar is equal to about 250000 Zim dollars, but next week it will probably be closer to 300000 and this is the black market rate. The official government rate (AKA denial rate) is 100000 $ZIM per 1 $US and exchanging on the black market is illegal. If you change money in the street you have a 50% chance of being arrested. For the tourist changing money is fun times. It usually consists of our hotel manager calling up some sketchy character with a backpack full of money and quietly changing money at the black market rate in the bushes behind the hotel. The highest denomination of bank note is 50000 $ZIM, which makes everyone look like drug dealers when they pull out a 3 inch wad of cash to pay for lunch that costs the equivalent to 10 $US. There isn't a big market for wallets these days in Zim, we use a plastic shopping bag and a lot of elastic bands to carry our money. I'm not kidding. Most of the Zim money bills have an expiry date that everyone ignores (usually sometime in 2003). One Zimbabwean explained that this is because the government printed a dump load of cash as "temporary money" until the economy gets back to normal. You don't have to be an economist to see this makes absolutely no sense.

Despite all of this, Zimbabwe has been an amazing place to travel. I don't like to stereotype anybody, but Zimbabweans must be the funniest people I've ever met. I'm sure it's partly a coping mechanism. Harare is the most modern city we've visited in Africa and the live music scene is incredible.

After Harare we traveled north to the town of Kariba and after a night of drinking beers with some crazy Zimbabweans, we embarked on a 4 day canoe trip down the Zambezi river through Mana Pools national park.

In a fit of insanity (apparently typical of the government), the Zimbabwean government allows tourists to walk / swim / canoe through game parks under the protection of nothing more than insect repellent. Most African parks require you to remain in the confines of a vehicle to convince the wild animals that you are too much of a challenge to eat. Not in Zimbabwe. While canoeing, our biggest threat was the hippos.

Here's a little known African fact for you: the hippo is the most dangerous animal in Africa. This is largely because if a hippo is grazing on land and you accidentally block its retreat to the water, its response is to freak out and maul you. More applicable for us, hippos also like to capsize canoes. Much of our trip was spent furiously paddling from one side of the Zambezi to the other in order to avoid the many hippos pods. The fear of capsizing wasn't so much the risk of drowning or contracting the water born illness of Bilharzia which is rampant in the Zambezi, but rather the threat being eaten by crocodiles. As our guide Teech put it: The Zambezi is "infested" with crocodiles. There is a croc for every 20m of shoreline. Our nights were spent camping on the shores of the river surrounded by grazing hippos and elephants. Apparently hippos don't feel too threatened by tents. Clearly there were no bathroom breaks in the middle of the night. Despite (or maybe because of) the craziness, the trip was amazing.

We then kicked it down to Bulawayo, another awesome Zim town. The area is also very geologically unique which I won't bore you with; Steve was already bored enough by a day long geology excursion that I insisted on. From Bulawayo we took the train up to Victoria Falls. We had one and only one reason for visiting Vic Falls (okay besides seeing the actual falls). Rafting down the mighty Zambezi. The area is legendary for rafting enthusiasts, primarily for the extreme danger of it all. The rafting companies admit they often "lose people" to the rapids. Anyway, we arrived in Vic Falls to find out the water levels are too high for rafting. So that was a huge bummer. We've been here for three days now, drinking a lot of coffee and beer waiting for the bus to Namibia to leave (once per week). However, we are finally off tomorrow.

In Namibia we plan to do something we haven't done yet in Africa : Rent a car. Sounds fun doesn't it? However, it will first require me to teach Steve to drive standard, with the added excitement of driving on the left hand side of the road and the driver sitting on the right side of the car. If our marriage can survive this, it can survive anything.

The Tanzanian Medical System

2006-05-17T05:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I want to preface this entry with the statement that I am now fine and healthy, so nobody should worry AT ALL.

So a couple of weeks ago I got sick, sick enough to require medical attention, which in turn required finding medical attention in Tanzania. As much as I don't want anyone to worry, some of the events leading to my eventual recovery are too funny not to include in the blog. The whole debacle is as follows:

On the ferry ride over to Zanzibar (island off the coast of Tanzania), a cough that I had developed over the last few days got worse. I pretty much spent the entire trip hacking my lungs out over the side of the ship. For whatever reason, my colourful demonstration of disease transmission didn't dissuade two older South African men from befriending me and later when we arrived in Stone Town (main town on Zanzibar), Steve, Tim and I met up with them for a few beers.

A word to the wise: Do not consume several litres of 5.6% Tanzanian beer while nursing identified illness in 3rd world country.

Over the next few days things got bad enough to strongly motivate Steve and I to seek out medical attention. We ended up at a private hospital that the Lonely Planet (our guide book) indicated was the best hospital on Zanzibar. Looking back, the best thing I can say about it was that it was really white, perhaps because it gave the illusion of clean. As with most private hospitals, we didn't have to wait long to see a doctor (most Tanzanians can't afford private medical care). The doctor was sitting behind a desk when we entered his office and he motioned for us to sit down across from him on the other side of the desk. He asked me what was wrong and I explained. After a few more questions, he began his examination which consisted of donning his stethoscope and reaching over the desk to listen to my chest for about 6 seconds. He then immediately proclaimed that I had bronchitis and a lung infection and that I should have come to see him much much sooner as I was very very sick.

He then said "We will start you on the injections today". To which I responded "Sorry, did you say injections??". He said that he intended to administer the antibiotics required to treat my various infections via injection.

Now, I don't pretend to know a single thing about medicine, but two things were shockingly clear to me at that moment:

1. This guy had no idea what he was doing and,
2. There was no way in hell anyone in that place was injecting anything into my body.

Not wanting to offend by explicitly stating points one and two, I simply told him we were leaving the following day and antibiotic tablets would be fine. As he began making out the prescription he said "At least you don't have a fever". He had deduced this dubious fact from my "I don't know" response to his "Do you have a fever" question. I then asked him if he could take my temperature because as I had said, I didn't know if I had a fever. He proceeded to fish around his cluttered desk for a few minutes before he retrieved two dirty thermometers from a glass beaker and stated accusingly "These are broken!". He then called the nurse to bring another thermometer which appeared only slightly less soiled than the others. Luckily he went for the armpit application as I'm sure I would have spit the disgusting instrument across his desk and into his lap.

As it turns out I did have a fever, which the doctor seemed unconcerned about despite his previous comment. In the end, I left with a prescription for not one, but five different medications and the ever comforting words "All that medication might not make you better, you should have seen me much earlier".

Over the next few days, I dutifully took all the medications and surprise surprise, my small pile of drugs was about as effective in clearing up a lung infection as Flintstone vitamins. The infection got worse and my asthma joined the party, making breathing about as easy as finding adequate medical care in Tanzania.

Luckily by this time, we were in Dar Es Salaam, the effective capital of Tanzania. Our hotel manager (who had just returned to Tanzania from managing the Greek restaurant in Toronto West Hospital), recommended a clinic in the city. He indicated it was the best clinic in Dar (where had we heard that before?). Somewhat pessimistic, we made our way to the clinic.

To our immense relief, the level of care in this clinic was like that of Canada. The doctor I saw was actually better than any doctor I've ever seen in Canada. In addition to his fantastic bed side manner, he employed such radical diagnostic techniques as - "taking my temperature" and "measuring my blood pressure". When he looked at the shopping list of drugs I had been prescribed by the other doctor he said "Right, none of these would really help with lung infections". Excellent. He then told me that he wanted to start me on steroids, which he carefully explained were very effective in clearing lungs and I shouldn't worry at all about side effects as I would only be taking them for a short time. Having grown up in a family of asthmatics, I was well aware of the effectiveness of steroids and indicated that I would happily knock back the entire bottle right now and I didn't care if I turned into a man tomorrow.

So after a few days on real medication, I was as good as new. We hung around in Dar for a few days until the doctor said we could move on. We have spent the last week chilling out on Lake Malawi and we are heading to Mt. Mulanje in southern Malawi next for some hiking.

Bombings in Dahab

2006-04-30T00:30:00.000-07:00

When we were in Dahab, three months ago, we ate every night at a restaurant called Al Capones. They had the best chicken plate for uber-cheap. After our second or third night there, the staff stopped bringing us menus. They just slapped down a couple of teas and said "same same?". I truly hope those young Egyptian waiters who served us all those evenings were off the night of April 24th as the entire restaurant was destroyed by one of the three bombs that exploded along the tourist strip of Dahab. Sadly some were probably of the 21 Egyptians that were killed in the attack.

Tourist areas in Egypt and the east coast of Africa has been the recipient of several terrorist attacks in the last few years and most times far more local people are killed than the supposed foreign targets.

It makes me sick.

The only other thing I can say about this is: As difficult as I know this is, don't let the psychopaths responsible for these sorts of attacks deter you from visiting Egypt or any other part of Africa that is typically targeted. The people in these regions, as in many parts of Africa, depend on tourism to survive. Events like those of April 24 devastate tourism for years and the local people suffer immensely.

Animal Love

2006-04-26T05:00:00.000-07:00

I'm no zoologist, but I feel quite comfortable in making that statement that it is most certainly mating season in the Serengeti. Last week we spent five days on really the most incredible safari we've seen yet (and not only because of the mating). It was really a tour around several of the parks in northern Tanzania including Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater. The goal of any African safari is to find all of the "Big Five" (African buffalo, lion, rhino, leopard and elephant). We saw them all, as well as every other animal that inhabits the bush, up close and personal. Unreal. And about the mating - I don't care who you are, watching animals mate is really funny and man alive did we see mating animals. Elephant, zebra, hyenas and baboons to name a few. We all giggled like little school girls for hours.

The best part was that on account of Steve's friend Tim joining us, we upgraded from the cheap camping safari to the lodge safari and the lodges were amazing. I haven't seen a bathroom that nice since I don't know when (realistically probably of "Super 8" caliber, but compared to the rotting cess pools we are used to, really nice). At the Ngorongoro Crater, our room was perched on the side of the crater which drops 600 m to the crater floor. Needless to say, we invested in a bottle of wine ($5, I love Africa) and sat at our crater view window for several hours. And the icing on the cake - dinners = buffet.

Let me tell you something, it is not responsible to let someone who has been traveling in Africa for 4 months to partake in an all you can eat dinner buffet. After two full hours of eating, the skin on my stomach was not sufficient to contain the swirling mass of food stuffs (largely composed of cheese, I haven't had cheese in months) that my internal organs were attempting to deal with. Steve and I ended the evening drunk (we really don't drink that much here, so a bottle of wine really does us in) and with serious abdominal pain. But it was all worth it and we did it all again the next night.

So since then, we spent a couple of days in a mountain range called the Usambara mountains, chilling out and doing a bit of hiking. We are now in Dar Es Salaam in the south of Tanzania, heading to Zanzibar tomorrow for some diving. We are having a great time with Tim. I love Tim because Tim loves buying souvenirs, which means I get away with buying more souvenirs than our budget allows. Steve is starting to call me "expensive", usually in complaining comments to Tim such as "the wife is getting expensive thanks to you". He He.

Foul Play at Hell's Gate

2006-04-14T04:24:00.000-07:00

So I was attacked by a baboon yesterday. Although to be fair, the baboon wanted nothing to do with me, but rather the small bag of buns I was clutching while attempting to make an egg sandwich.

The story goes like this. Steve and I were camping on Lake Naivasha, a beautiful lake about an hour north of Nairobi. Near Lake Naivasha is a game park called Hell's Gate, which is one of the only parks in Kenyan where you can bike or hike the trails without an armed guard. Anyhoo, Stevo and I rented a couple of mountains bikes and headed out there yesterday, but not before we stopped at a local restaurant/store and purchased some hard boiled eggs and buns for our lunch.

After a long grueling morning of biking along some of the little used roads (we saw giraffe very up close though, very cool) we finally made it to a picnic site near a small gorge. While Steve used the washroom, I found us a nice picnic table away from the road side, to enjoy our lunch. I unpacked our eggs and buns and started to prepare our sandwiches. Steve approached a minute later and indicated there were lots of baboons up by the washrooms and also that "they are really big ones". We had encountered baboons many times in the last few months, but they were always quite nervous of humans and tended to run away when you got too close.

The next thing I remember is looking up and seeing a very large baboon running towards me at a shockingly rapid pace. He reached the picnic table, jumped up on the bench and in a flash, grabbed the buns right out of my hand. My reaction to this was to snap out my leg to keep him away from my vital organs. My foot connected squarely with his face and launched him off the bench. Unfortunately, he had too good a grasp on the buns and made away with them, despite the head injury I'm sure I inflicted.

After something totally weird like this happens, the adrenalin makes you go a little crazy. I believe the next words out of my mouth were "Steve did you see that? I kicked him in the face! I kicked the little f*#ker right in the face! YEAH!". I then had to take a time out and return to rational Christina.

Anyway, our lunch was a little more sparse than we had originally planned and we both now have a healthy fear of all primates (thankfully this happened AFTER our gorilla trek).

The State of the Union

2006-04-14T03:12:00.000-07:00

The other day we experienced an all out tent failure. Our "travel tent" that has served us well since we purchased it for $20 in Bolivia four years ago has finally let us down. It is currently the rainy season here in East Africa. It actually doesn't rain all that much during the day, which is nice, but holy Pete does it come down at night. Two nights ago in the beautiful setting of Bugali Falls in Uganda, our tent spontaneously lost all ability to repel water... right in the middle of a torrential downpour. At four in the morning we were both essentially floating on our sleeping mats in a shallow sea. I actually think it was raining harder inside the tent than out. As I lay wide awake that night, maniacally shining the flashlight from one offending stream of water to the next, I got to thinking..... We are now almost exactly half way through the African portion of our trip and in the past three short months, Africa has irreparably altered us (and our tent). I would like to share a couple of these changes with you, so those of you who haven't yet visited the Dark Continent, can decide whether it's really all worth it.

1. Clean or Dirty?

A combination of many nights of camping, taking the most budget of African buses and existing in a constant dust cloud due to the fact that most of the roads aren't paved 'round these parts, have resulted in us losing all concept of what is clean. The other night, we decided to go out for a nice dinner and donned what we believed to be appropriate dinner attire (not a first class restaurant or anything, but people were dressed quite nicely). This is what we wore: Steve: his one pair of pants that aren't made of fleece, which had large streaks of mud smeared across the right pant leg and a white shirt with so many permanent stains a small child could be entertained for hours by connecting the dirt dots. Me: My one pair of pants that had the ass burned out in Ethiopia that are now sewed together with a rainbow of thread colours (they only give you like 3 cm of each colour thread in those travel sewing kits... very annoying) and my previously white shirt that has now turned various shades of yellow and grey, most noticeably in the armpit area. We actually complimented each other's ability to "clean up good" on our way out. Looking back, I believe we probably appeared homeless.

2. Appropriate Dining Areas and Food Consumption

So we try to live on $50 per day. This includes everything from hotel/camping to food to transportation. As a result, we seek out the most budget of local places to eat and as such, we have eaten in some rather odd and sometimes quite unsavoury places. These include: several brothels, "Mwai's restaurant and butchery" in which we ate surrounded by hanging corpses of goats, sitting in gutters eating street food and my personal favorite - the cafeteria at the Kenyan Geothermal Power Station, where we were required to produce our passports at the gate and sign in for security reasons. I don't really know how this will translate to life back home, but certainly our increased immunity to spoiled meat will continue to come in handy.

3. Mosquito Paranoia

In Canada, getting bitten by a mosquito is rarely more than an annoyance. Here, it is easy to convince yourself that they are little vessels of death that with one bite can condemn you to a painful demise. I mean come on, with malaria, dengue fever, yellow fever blah blah blah, you can really get yourself into a state of paranoia. I've been there. Several nights I've bolted awake in some shabby hotel room that didn't include mosquito netting in the $2 per night tab, groping madly for the flashlight to confirm one of the little bastards has just bitten me in the leg and spent the rest of the night pondering the quickest way to medi-vac myself to the nearest modern hospital at the first signs of a cold sweat. I know this sounds a wee bit crazy, but those little vampires will drive anyone mad.

4. Personal Space?

Having been crammed into more matatus than is healthy for anyone at our age, we no longer have any concept of appropriate personal space. As such, I would like to apologize in advance to all of you who, in the event of being in the company of Steve or I when we return, have one of us stand and converse uncomfortably close to you in a wide open space, or inadvertently place our laundry/groceries/family members in your lap while sharing public transportation. These are the conditions to which we have become accustomed.

I could go on and on and on, but I'll spare you the rest. Anyway, all joking aside, it's been an amazing few months. If you are even remotely inclined to visit this part of Africa, hop on that plane, it's pretty unbelievable and any discomfort is totally worth it. So that's my completely unsolicited and somewhat backwards plug to visit Africa. Later.

The Pearl of Africa

2006-04-08T04:25:00.000-07:00

Winston Churchill called it the "Pearl of Africa" and I must say I concur. Uganda is really a stunningly beautiful country. We began our Ugandan travels by undertaking a 7 day hike in the Rwenzori mountains. Rwenzori means "Rainmaker" and holy hell do these mountains ever live up to their name, but the weather was really the least of my problems during this trek.

I had recently been feeling very un-Canadian for not carrying my own gear during our recent treks, so I decided during this hike, I was going to carry it all myself. The Rwenzoris have a reputation of being seriously challenging, not only for the technically difficult boggy and wet conditions, but also for the high elevations at which you are trekking. Nonetheless, I felt I could handle it. Ha. The first day was straight up and I actually felt okay. It was day 2 that things started to go horribly wrong.

The one factor I had failed to take into account prior to making the decision to carry all my own gear, was that I have absolutely no upper body strength. This became quite obvious when the effects of pulling every muscle in my chest kicked in on day 2. Effectively, this felt like I was have a severe heart attack each time I inhaled. I also got myself a super case of altitude sickness.... at 3200 m. Anyone who has hiked at elevation knows that this altitude really isn't all that high. So that was awesome. I finished day 2 dragging myself up the final stretch of the 5 km leg, 7 HOURS after setting out, while our guide carried all of my gear and all of his. Looking good and feeling good.

Day 3, despite the lingering effects of altitude sickness and being unable to lift my arms above my head, went much better (the porters were carrying everything I had except my lunch). The scenery was seriously amazing. We hiked through a bamboo forest and then tackled a crazy bog. The way in which you traverse a bog is to inch precariously along thin logs or attempt to jump from small bog plant to small bog plant. I also failed to mention that we were doing the entire hike in rented rubber boots. Attempting to jump from one slippery wet log to the next in poorly manufactured Bata rubber boots was not a challenge I was looking for at the time. However, the scenery was like nothing I've ever seen and I'll get some pictures up soon.

Days 4 and 5 were both high altitude days as we hiked over passes through yet more crazy bogs and other strange landscapes. Both days I fell hip deep into bog holes and required Steve and Dezi (our guide) to haul me out via the armpit lift.

During days 6 and 7 we descended back down to our starting point (the whole hike was a circuit) and I felt increasingly better as the effects of the chest pull and altitude finally started to wear off. At the end of the hike all had healed and besides needing a bath in a serious way, all was good. This was fortunate since we had only a day and a half to slug it, via matatu, halfway across rural Uganda to the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest (best name of all time) to find ourselves some gorillas.

Gorilla permits in Uganda are pretty difficult to secure. Only six people per day are allowed to visit a family of endangered mountain gorillas and permits often sell out years in advance. We were super lucky to pick up a couple of cancellations in Kampala, prior to our Rwenzori trek. Tracking the gorillas consists of a group of "trackers" locating an appropriate family (that have been habituated to humans). Upon finding the family, the tourists, who are accompanied by about 5 armed Ugandan military members, are ushered to the location, at which time you are allowed exactly 1 hour to sit and observe the gorillas. I know this probably sounds mind numbingly boring, but it really is an experience to hang out with these animals. You are only about 3 metres from them at all times and they are constantly moving around you. The whole experience was enhanced when we finally ditched the Ugandan military just prior to encountering the gorillas.

Apparently several years ago, 8 tourists were killed by guerillas (note the spelling change) from the Congo. Nowadays Bwindi is probably the safest place in Africa to hike due to the heavy Ugandan military presence. However the magic of searching for the gorillas is somewhat dulled by the 5 fatigue clad, AK-47 toting, dudes hiking along side you.

So we are now in the small hamlet of Jinja relaxing. We are heading to Tanzania in a couple of days to meet up with Steve's friend Tim who decided last minute to come and join us for a couple of weeks! A great excuse to spend more money on a safari if you ask me!

Steve, Is That Stench Coming From Your Backpack?

2006-03-21T01:45:00.000-08:00

One of our goals when coming to Kenya was to climb Mount Kenya. Although it's no Kilimanjaro, Mt. Kenya is still quite high at 4985 m (okay the highest peak is something like 5100 m, but it's only accessible to rock climbers) and many don't make the summit due to altitude sickness.

Our journey to the summit began when we left Nairobi for the trail head town of Naro Moru (really little more than an intersection). Our transportation of choice was the matatu. Infamous in East Africa for their shockingly high frequency of accidents, matatus are a type of public transportation in the form of white Nissan minivans, although fancier versions do exist sporting flashing lights and loud music. At the matatu "station" (which is just a busy road with a lot of matatus) we were ushered into a random Nissan by a young man wearing a deflated soccer ball as a hat. The first indication that we were in for a ride was when the conductor insisted we fasten our seatbelts...... an act totally unheard of in the developing world. I think the only thing that saved us from certain death that day was the fact that Naro Moru is at a significantly higher elevation than Nairobi and our particular matatu, which had definitely seen better days, had a bit of trouble with the hills. Nonetheless, we broke speed records when ever possible, particularity when traversing potholes which our driver tended to hit at about 110 km/hr, causing the taller passengers to smash their heads off the low ceiling.

Upon arriving in Naro Moru, we arranged a local guide to take us up the mountain. We sought out Nicholas based on the recommendation of the waiter at the truck stop where we had lunch. Not always a reliable method of acquiring a guide, Nicholas nonetheless turned out to be excellent. Similar to our guide in the Simien mountains, Nicholas was a wealth of information on the flora and fauna of Mt. Kenya.

The hike itself was four days. The first two days were relatively easy, albeit up hill. The third "summit" day was a bit more difficult.... We began hiking at 3 am, when the ambient temperature was approximately -10 degrees Celsius and we were looking quite stylish wearing every article of clothing we had with us. We climbed for about 2 hours, during which time it got even colder and gale force winds picked up. At one point, when I was actually crawling up a vertical rock pile, attempting to maintain my core body temperature and trying to convince myself that my slowly intensifying headache had nothing to do with altitude, I calmly thought to myself "WHAT THE F@#K ARE WE DOING????"

At about 5 am, we reached a small hut about 1 km from the summit where we were to wait until half an hour prior to sunrise to begin the final ascent. At this hut we met two young dudes from Manitoba who were rock climbing some of the nearby peaks. Apparently the previous night they had gotten stuck on the peak they were climbing as they couldn't find the permanent rings on which to rappel down (they didn't have a guide). They spent the night under a ledge on the peak. They both thought they were going to die from exposure. Instantly feeling much less hard core, I resisted the urge to scold them for being so damn stupid.

At 6 am we left for the final climb. As we started, we immediately forgot our discomfort as we climbed with the sun rising on our right and a huge glacier just becoming visible on our left. Unbelievable. Hitting the top we felt like rock stars. Unfortunately our camera froze, but a fellow hiker from Scarborough took our picture to commemorate the event and promised to email it to us (Mt. Kenya was completely littered with Canadians, it was hilarious)

The rest of the hike was comparatively uneventful and we returned to the trail head the following day. A fantastic journey, we only had one unfortunate issue. Fearing the effects of the high altitude, prior to beginning hike we hired a porter to help us carry our gear. Although Basta was a heck of a nice guy, he had one monstrous body odour problem. Each day of the hike that he didn't shower, things got worse. The long term effects of Basta's problem was that Steve's backpack now has a body odour problem. We have tried everything to rid the pack of the odour. Steve has showered with the backpack, we've applied deodorant and fabric freshener, but Basta is still with us and may be for quite a while....

So anyhoo, we are back in Nairobi, enjoying a day of relaxation. We are actually going to see a western movie tonight (western as in made in the west, not as in cowboys). Very exciting for us. Tomorrow we are off to Kampala, Uganda.

Happy to be a Carnivore

2006-03-12T04:46:00.000-08:00

In Ethiopia we were "faranji" which I think translated to "foreigner". In Kenya we are "wazungu" which apparently means "white ghosts" in Swahili. Wazungu is yelled at us about 150 times per day, usually from young men attempting to usher us onto their mini-bus. Although they don't mean it in an offensive way, I definitely liked faranji better!

Our first order of business in Kenya was to get ourselves on a safari ASAP. Next thing we knew, we were in the middle of Masai Mara National Park surrounded by more large carnivores than I typically feel comfortable with. "The Mara" as it is known to safari types, is probably the best reserve in Africa to view wildlife. If you see an African documentary on the learning channel, chances are it was filmed in the Mara. Pretty cool. We saw everything from packs of lions (which I am told is called a pride, but I think "pack" better describes them), elephants, cheetah, tons of gazelle, and I could go on. We shared the adventure with a fantastic Kiwi couple, a great British guy and the most obnoxious Canadian I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. He was one of those budget traveler types that wants everyone to know that he travels cheaper and more hardcore than anyone else. A typical conversation would involve him asking us exactly how much we paid for everything from our hotel in Nairobi to that morning's breakfast and then let us know HE got the exact same thing for 20 cents cheaper. Really the most annoying type of tourist around. A crying shame he was Canadian.

After arriving back to Nairobi, we splurged on a night out at "Carnivore". Advertised as "Africa's Greatest Eating Adventure", this restaurant was Steve's personal heaven. Upon arriving, you were presented with a steaming hot plate and a small potato. Soon after, men and women with large skewers of various meats came around to your table and carved a slab on to your plate. They kept coming as long as you didn't say stop. We never said stop. We ate everything from ostrich meatballs to crocodile to beef to camel. That many animals with such widely different evolutionary paths should not co-exist in your stomach. It hurt. It hurt bad. But it was worth it.

We are now on the coast of Kenya. Bring on the diving.

High Speed Connections Never Felt So Good

2006-03-04T08:51:00.000-08:00

Okay, so the legend goes like this: The Queen of Sheba traveled from her native Ethiopia in the 10th century B.C. to the court of King Solomon in Jerusalem. After a short visit, and some behind-closed-doors-shenanigans, the Queen traveled back to Ethiopia pregnant with the King's son. 20 years later, their son, Menelik, went to Jerusalem to visit his father and when he left, he stole the Ark of the Covenant and brought it back to Ethiopia, where it rests to this day. To many Ethiopians, these are facts and I don't recommend trying to tell them differently!!

But I'll get back to this in a second. Since my last entry (coinciding with the last time I had any reliable email access) we undertook a ten day trek in Simien Mountain National Park and I'll tell you something, ten days is a long time to go without bathing. We decided to plan the trek on our own to avoid the extreme mark up costs associated with booking through an agency. Surprisingly, it wasn't that difficult. Aside from the black market kerosene debacle, and trying to estimate how much poor quality pasta two grown adults could consume in ten days, the planning portion went remarkably smoothly. Upon arriving at the park headquarters in the small hamlet of Debark we met Meles, who was to become our guide. Meles informed us that the park required all tourists trek with a guide, armed scout and at least one mule and muleteer (or mule driver as we called them), and no, this could not all be the same person. Before we knew it, we had a posse of four (we required an extra mule and driver to accommodate all of our crap as we were not returning to Debark). Despite feeling like enormous idiots for hiking with all of these people, we had a fabulous time. Some of the highlights and lowlights include:
- Drinking water out of some of the skankiest, most funktified rivers I've ever seen in my life. Having not contracted any water born illnesses, I am definitely writing the manufacturer of our water purification drops with my gratitude.
- Burning the ass out of my one pair of pants when I sat on a candle as Steve and I and four crazy Israelis attempted to cook an Italian dinner extravaganza in a dimly lit hut at one of our camp sites. Luckily, the ass burn wasn't serious and has since healed.
- Racing four aged Austrians to the top of Ras Dashan, Ethiopia's highest peak. Unfortunately, we didn't beat them by quite the margin we had expected considering our age difference.
- Listening to Meles try to explain to a villager with a gapping head wound sustained in a village brawl, that not all faranji (foreigners) are doctors and neither Steve nor I could help him and he needed to go to a real doctor. When the young man refused to believe this, Meles explained that unfortunately, we had used up all of our gapping head wound medication at the previous camps.
The trek itself was amazing, the scenery incredible and Meles did a killer job. All of the park guides are local guys who have been through an intense selection and training program. There wasn't a tree, rock or animal that Meles couldn't give a ten minute speech on.

We ended our trek in a small town and hitched a ride in the front seat of a cargo truck to the city of Aksum (this would become a popular method of transportation for us in the coming weeks). The 160 km journey took 10 hours, largely because we blew a couple of tires and spent 3.5 hours at a "mechanic" in a small village while the driver attempted to patch the punctures.

Our last few days in Ethiopia were spent primarily in the northern towns of Aksum and Lalibela and we sort of felt like we were in an Indiana Jones movie. While in Aksum, the former centre of the advanced Aksumite empire of the 5th century A.D., we visited the place where the Ark of the Covenant is apparently kept to this day. As with all good folklore, this fact cannot be confirmed as only one monk (chosen somehow by God) has access to the Ark, kept in a small chapel, and he is forbidden to speak to anyone outside the church deacons. He also cannot leave the chapel grounds until he dies. Apparently the previous monk incumbent fled from Aksum shortly after he was chosen. I can only guess he feared a life of extreme boredom, as I imagine opening and closing the Ark probably gets boring after a few years. Unfortunately for him, the clergy hunted him down and threw him back into the chapel, where he ended his days. As you can imagine, being in possession of the Ark, the people of Aksum are obsessed with the Queen of Sheba and practically all archeological sites in the region are associated with her, despite all archeological evidence indicating the Queen predates the Aksumite civilization (and therefore the civilization's ruins) by about 1500 years and that she actually lived in Yemen.

The city of Lalibela, another archeological site, was my favorite city in Ethiopia. Home to a series of phenomenal churches that were carved directly out of the bedrock sometime in the 12th century, UNESCO is trying to make them a wonder of the world as no one really knows how they were constructed. After a few weeks in Ethiopia, we feel like we have history degrees.

So, after Lalibela, we flew back down to Addis and began our epic journey south to Nairobi, Kenya. The Ethiopian portion took three days, which departed severely from the tourist trail. We stayed in some of the crappiest towns in Africa, as well as some of the crappiest hotels, some of which doubled as brothels. As we were enjoying a couple of beers one evening after a long day of bus travel, we were entertained by one of the local ladies of the evening as she worked her way around the hotel bar. Luckily she ended up in a room far from our own. At the border town of Moyale, all reliable bus travel ceased to exist and we were forced to hitch a ride with yet another cargo truck, all the way to Nairobi. The 30 hour ride over what is known as the worst road in Africa was an experience. We blew several tires, pulled a transport truck out of the ditch at 2 am and saw some wild elephants. I don't know exactly what we were transporting, but along the way, we bribed every single police officer and every single police check, so whether it was guns or drugs, I'm happy to never know.

We are now safely in Nairobi and heading out on a safari tomorrow. Hopefully these sweet internet connections hold out for a while!

Is That My Time or Yours?

2006-02-10T02:18:00.000-08:00

Well, after spending almost a year of our lives in developing nations, Steve and I are finally third world. The defining moment was yesterday when we filled and transported kerosene in a 1.5 L water bottle. The kerosene in question was also purchased on the black market, which in Gondar, Ethiopia, is conveniently located behind the Exxon Mobil station. As a side note, it's killing me to use kerosene in our beautiful (well not so beautiful anymore) little MEC stove.

So we are in Ethiopia. Trying to describe any aspect of this country with any degree of coherence may be difficult. I'll give it a try using subtitles.

Time: Ethiopians tell time differently than the rest of the world. Right now, to all of us foreigners here in Ethiopia it is 2 pm, to the Ethiopians it is 8 am. Dawn or around 7 am, is considered 1 am, while dusk is 1 pm. As you can imagine this is particularly exciting when trying to catch a bus or plane. Normally the locals are kind enough to let us know whether they are speaking in Ethiopian time or "Faranji time" (foreigner time), but not always. It is also 1998. Ethiopian airlines has creatively used Ethiopia's adherence to the Julian calendar in their advertising campaigns "Come to Ethiopia and be 7 years younger". New Year's day is September 11.

Buses: We actually abandoned our "all bus all the time" attitude here simply to save a bit of time as the roads are dismal. Nonetheless, we have taken a few in the last week. Although not particularly different from the rest of the developing world, what is unique, is every Ethiopian's complete hatred of open bus windows. It can be 45 degrees Celsius in the bus, but if you so much as crack a window to get a bit of air flow, it WILL be snapped shut immediately. A lady seriously freaked out the other day when one of the bus windows was damaged and a small amount of air was escaping into the bus interior. She ended up running to the front of the bus and we never saw her again. We have yet to figure this one out.

Landscape: Stunning. Really. We head to the Simien mountains tomorrow, so I imagine it will only get more awesome.

People: Okay, I have to abandon by usual sarcasm on this one. A large portion of the country is gut-wrenchingly poor. It's unbelievably sad. The amazing thing is, that despite the extreme poverty, manypeople are incredibly generous. For example, a woman who was clearly struggling offered us one of her oranges on the bus the other day. It's unbelievable. There are some amazing international programs at work here, so hopefully they are making a difference in some people's lives.

As I said, we are heading to the Simien's tomorrow. We are going to try to arrange our own trek. I'm sure it will be a debacle. More on that next time.

Moses and his magic stick

2006-02-03T06:49:00.000-08:00

Well, I don't have a lot to report on our last week in Egypt as we spent it mainly underwater, which was pretty incredible for us, but damn boring to write about.

One day last week, as a break from diving, we visited St. Catherine's monastery and Mount Sinai (of Moses and Ten Commandment fame) and hiked up Mt. Sinai to view the sunset. Actually the tour we took from Dahab was called "St. Catherine's monastery and Mouse Mountain". As we were boarding the bus we hoped this was a typo or we were in for an anti-climatic trip. While at the monastery, we tacked onto a guided tour (unauthorized of course, we are on a budget). During the tour, the guide told us about Moses and his "magic stick" that parted the Reed Sea (not an English blunder on the part of the guide, apparently the biblical translation is Reed as opposed to Red). He went on to speculate that the Reed Sea could not have been the Red Sea or the nearby Gulf of Aqaba, as both are far too deep to have been realistically parted.... Clearly our young guide felt that even magic sticks were subject to limitations. We also saw the legendary burning bush (which up until that point I thought was merely part of a Monty Python skit). The bush was looking surprisingly spry after thousands of years since it's last divine experience.

After our fantastic trip to the Red Sea, we returned to Cairo a few days early (before our flight to Addis Ababa). The other night we attended what I feel compelled to call the most fabulous thing we've seen in all of Egypt : Sufi dancing. A religious dance exposition that originated in Turkey, Sufi dancing consists of several "whirling dervishes" that spin around non-stop to the highly addictive music of about 14 musicians set up behind them. The dervishes spin in place for about 45 minutes. At the end of the performance, they simply stop, bow to the crowd and walk off stage. If I spin around more than four times in a row, I fall down, vomit a little and need a small nap, so I certainly thought these guys were incredible.

We leave tonight for Ethiopia. Many sources have informed us that email and internet services in Ethiopia cost approximately one thousand dollars per minute and are only marginally faster than conventional mail. As such, if I don't manage to update this blog on a regular basis in the next month, don't necessarily assume we've left you all for a serene yet nomadic existence amongst the Ethiopian tribespeople.

Salaam and Shokran

2006-02-01T05:40:00.000-08:00

When we were planning our trip to Egypt, we really had no idea to what extent English would be spoken and understood. We were both relieved to discover that most Egyptians have some knowledge of English and many are pretty much bilingual. The one clear exception has appeared to be anyone selling tickets for train or bus travel across the entire country. As you can imagine, this has proved to be a bit of a problem for us.
Our first attempt to buy a train ticket, was a fruitless endeavor in which we got in line (which was more of a shoving match), waited for about twenty minutes to reach the front (as our Canadian politeness didn't allow elbowing to the face), only to receive an irritated look from the ticket agent that clearly said "I don't time to try to figure out where and when you want to go, as in case you haven't noticed, I've got about fifty other people rushing the ticket window, so here's a tip: maybe try learning a bit of Arabic next time. Now beat it". He then gestured to the next ticket booth, indicating we should try over there. Subsequent to this experience, our ticket buying strategy often became this: I got in "line" and stood there looking hopeless until some bilingual Egyptian male took pity on me and offered to help me buy my ticket, at which point I would say "thank you so much sir, I need two", and point at Steve who up until then was hiding behind a post.

Two days ago, we were once again faced with purchasing bus tickets from Sharm El Sheikh to Cairo. Since we were in Sharm, the most touristed place in all of Egypt, I thought it might be a bit easier. My discussion with the ticket agent went something like this:

Me: Salaam (Arabic greeting and one of the only two words I know in Arabic. I have found that this insignificant attempt at the language at least prevents the agent from immediately shooing me away).
Ticket Agent: Salaam
Me: Cairo?
T.A.: When?
Me: Wednesday?
T.A.: Time? 7:30?
Me: Okay, sure, yes please.
T.A.: When?
Me: Ummm, Wednesday please.
T.A.: November 1?
Me: Umm, no, this Wednesday please.
T.A.: (exasperated) Yes! one two?
Me: Umm, yes, just this Wednesday please at 7:30.
T.A. (starting to exhibit signs of shooing) Yes, Wednesday, November 1?
Me. Um, okay, yes please, Wednesday at 7:30.
T.A. Okay. (followed by much conferring and laughing with the other agents).

Later that night we confirmed, with our hotel receptionist, the day and time of departure written on our tickets. It was in fact Wednesday at 7:30. We then spent the rest of the evening learning the numbers and days of the week in Amharic, the primary language of our next stop: Ethiopia.

Is This Actually My Life???

2006-01-26T05:51:00.000-08:00

After returning from our desert journey, we spent another day in Alexandria, primarily to do laundry for the first time since we left (my one pair of pants that I had been wearing for the last 17 days were starting to whisper to me at night). We also found a hotel with hot showers, a luxury we hadn't enjoyed in several days. I shamelessly emptied the hot water tank, much to the displeasure of Steve and the Australian tour group that arrived shortly after us.

The one site we wanted to take in while in Alexandria was the Graeco-Roman museum. After navigating through the nameless streets of Alexandria for a couple of hours, we finally found the building, only to be told by some random dude sitting outside smoking shesha (Egyptian flavoured tobacco), that the museum was closed... for two to five years. When we asked why, he said 'renovations'. When we looked through the glass doors to the interior of the museum (which was clearly not being renovated) there were about 20 people inside looking at the exhibits. When we questioned the shesha dude on this point, he just stared at us... and blocked the door. Dejected, confused and more than a little pissed off, we walked away under the unwavering gaze of shesha dude, fully planning to take this up with the tourism office, if Egypt ever opens one.

Okay so, Egypt has a stray cat problem. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting, well.. a cat. We rolled into Dahab the other day, which is essentially paradise situated on the east side of the Sinai peninsula across the Gulf of Aqaba (just north of the Red Sea) from the somewhat less idyllic Saudi Arabia. We immediately headed down to the coast to partake in the mentally grueling tasks of tea drinking and lazing around on pillows in one of the many restaurants that jut out over the Gulf (un-freaking-believable as you can imagine, sometimes I can't believe we are even here). We ordered some dinner. Seconds after our meals touched down on our table, approximately fifty-four cats, all with a serious case of mange, swarmed us from all directions. We ended up trying to eat with one hand and fend off the cat attack with the other. Small fights periodically broke out under the table over scraps of pita that one of them managed to steal from the bread basket. Dinner wasn't quite as relaxing as we had expected. We have since learned from other travelers that some carefully timed water attacks can disperse the little bastards long enough to rapidly force feed yourself a bowl of pasta.

Anyway, we've been diving for the last few days and it is absolutely AMAZING. We are planning at least a couple more days of this ridiculous existence before we have to head back to Cairo.

Jihad, He's More Than Just a Holy War

2006-01-20T06:26:00.000-08:00

For the last week we have been traveling like crazy from Aswan to Alexandria. A couple of the highlights follow.

While in Luxor, we attended one of the infamous sound and light shows at the Karnak temples. We did so largely because our travel guide promised the spectacle of walking through the temples at night while pharaoh Ramses II proclaimed over the sound system phrases such as "As the waters of the Nile spurt through my sandals..." In this respect we weren't disappointed. What we were not prepared for was the pushing and shoving by the North American and European seniors as they jockeyed for the best position in each area of the temple. It was a white haired Royal Rumble. Shortly after some lady hit me in the shin with her cane, Steve summed up the evening by leaning over and saying "Do you think anyone dies of excitement at these things?".

From Luxor we went north to Alexandria and on to an oasis town in the middle of the Sahara. Okay, technically the desert was called the slightly less romantic "Libyan desert", but we were told it is part of the greater Saharan desert complex, so as far as I'm concerned it was the Sahara. In any case it was absolutely stunning. We went on a desert safari and hung out with a couple of dudes, one of which was an Egyptian chef named Jihad. Shortly after meeting Jihad, he informed us his name means 'Holy War'. Yes, thank you Jihad, we've heard that. Ironically, he couldn't have been a nicer guy. The other guy, Marc, was a French chef (the two met in chef school in France). At one of our safari stops, Marc decided to take a camel ride. The camel had other ideas. Upon mounting the animal, the camel bolted up, kicked one of his handlers in the chest and took off bucking in an attempt to dislodge Marc from his back. I didn't even know camels could buck. In the end, everyone was fine, including the camel (photographed here), but it was a magical example of an animal tired of being a tourist attraction. You go camel. We have video footage of the whole calamity that I'll post here if I can ever figure out how to do it.

Feed Your Kids, THEN Buy Smokes

2006-01-13T06:14:00.000-08:00

Having traveled in Egypt for a week now, I find myself compelled to comment on the haggling situation. It's insanity. You have to haggle for everything or be ripped off at every turn. Now we all know that this is not unheard of in many places, I mean at the very least you usually have to negotiate cab fare. However, in Egypt, you haggle for everything from your morning coffee to toilet paper. Steve is in heaven. It's a sick challenge for him to negotiate the absolute bottom of the barrel price for everything. Now, this strategy is certainly easy on the budget, but it has the unfortunate consequence of really pissing people off. For example, while in Aswan, in the south of Egypt, we went for a half hour horse and carriage ride (shut up, I know it's cheesy, we are on our honeymoon okay?). Anyway, we beat the young man's price down to the equivalent of $1.50 Canadian. As retribution, he drove us through the crappiest parts of Aswan, while he ran errands such as dropping of a car battery to be charged, ate lunch and picked up several of his buddies along the way. At the end of the journey he pulled the old switcheroo with the 10 Egyptian pound bill we gave him, with a 1 pound bill and yelled at us, as we walked away through the busy square, that we ripped him off. In another case, we were taking a felluca ride (Egyptian sailboat) on the Nile and Captain Mustafa complained about our agreed upon fare for the entire trip "after I buy cigarette and tea, I don't have enough money to feed children" (of which he had 6 at the beginning of the trip and 9 at the end). I must say however, this guy was okay aside from the money rant. When I asked him where he learned english, he said Allah taught him and then laughed like he had just made the best joke ever. He also called me Captain Canada when I helped him steer the boat.

Hop Like an Egyptian

2006-01-09T05:41:00.000-08:00

I love Cairo. This city is big and crowded and polluted beyond belief, but there is something about it....

We arrived on Friday and have spent the last few days seeing the sites. I think the most striking difference from anywhere else I've traveled are the metal detectors. Metal detectors are everywhere - entrances into all tourist attractions, hotels, restaurants, everywhere and I set them off every time. The other night I set one off at a hotel where we were going for drinks (I imagine the source of the problem was the 14 tons of random Central American change I have been accumulating for the last six months, I really need to clean out my wallet...). Anyway, I started to walking towards the guard so he could check my bag or whatever he planned to do and he started laughing and asked "you gotta gun?". I also laughed, but more of a high pitched nervous laugh, and said "no". Then we all laughed and Steve and I entered the hotel unsearched. Later I questioned that young guard's dedication to his job.

Yesterday we visited the pyramids which are one of the most impressive things I have ever seen, if not for their sheer size, than for the surprising number of spatial relationships between the dimensions of the pyramids and quantities like the distance from the earth to the sun. The calculations used to relate the pyramids to these universal values have apparently occupied the minds of some scientists for years. I must admit however, I am not a full believer in this pyramid math as I'm pretty sure with the necessary motivation, they could manipulate the length of my big toe into having some cosmic significance. Nonetheless, the pyramids are amazing.

The other major structure at Giza, the Sphinx, is also quite a site. However, EVERYONE who has visited Giza had told me that the Sphinx is MUCH smaller than you expect it is going to be. So upon entering the site, I expected it to be about the size of a Pinto. Luckily no, it's actually huge, not as huge as the pyramids, but it's a pretty damn big carving. We also found out that the story of the Sphinx having lost it's nose during target practice by an invading army (apparently Egypt has been occupied more times than an Amsterdam whore), is actually a myth. The going theory is that some guy just decided to pry it off one day in the 1700's.

Steve and I are having a great time, getting into the travel thing having transitioned from two blissful weeks of comfy couches and awesome meals to dirty buses and the daily use of the phrase "yeah, it looks cooked, it's probably alright..". Steve just bought his first ever pair of flip flops. He has been wearing them everyday since we arrived in Egypt and has only today begun to bend his knees again while walking. We had one minor incident the other day when he lost one while crossing a busy street in Cairo, luckily he escaped uninjured (with no help from me as I was pointing and laughing as he hopped across the remainder of the traffic filled lanes... I'm a great wife) Anyhoo, we are off the the south of Egypt next.

Shady Negotiations

2006-01-07T05:24:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm starting this blog because I've been annoying myself by sending those huge mass emails, so I can only imagine how you must feel getting them. So anyhoo, the second half of our year long trip has begun. We finished up in Central America in December. Being the master planners that we are, we booked our flight back to Toronto from Honduras and ended up in Panama......three days before our plane was to leave. An annoying situation yes, but nothing a 50 hour bus ride couldn't solve. I'm happy to report that Steve made it through the entire journey without getting puked on.

We had a great trip home and drank many beers with friends and family.

We flew to Amsterdam two days ago. We stayed in a hostel dorm, which we generally avoid as we are too old and lame, but even a crappy dorm bed was at the limit of our budget in Amsterdam. Luckily none of our "roommates" sustained a head injury during our time there (as I had been led to believe happens on a regular basis in dutch dorms). The city is gorgeous, well most of the city is gorgeous. The red light district is more naked than gorgeous. We spent a shamefully large amount of time strolling along the streets of the red light district. In doing so, we overheard a number of hilarious negotiations taking place. My personal favorite was the guy shouting in the doorway "HOW MUCH FOR TWO MINUTES? I only want two minutes" and the subsequent explanation by the prostitute that her services are in blocks of twenty minutes, no matter how long you managed to last. The rest of our time in Amsterdam was spent in far more reputable places.