tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63030291890982256622023-11-15T22:05:12.602-08:00A Travel LifeConniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-88195995963876561892011-06-08T10:20:00.000-07:002011-06-08T10:20:35.708-07:00The city of tourists.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Pokhara, Nepal was our first major city we came to in Nepal. Apart from the border town which we were stuck at overnight because we had missed the bus just a few minutes before we crossed the border. The town was nothing special and we were sent on a wild-goose chase to find an ATM that would take our cards. Three towns and four banks later we managed to find a Bank of India that worked for Heath. My card was still inoperable and it was several weeks later when I found out that Nepal is a "high security" country and my bank does not allow transactions from there.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63iBi55vin7SFq-_sGujsG8EY5Itaf2iRcftTj9nNyT3NPsiDNVurQjWZSBxNHmJqHUs3xiyiRLWZhcl7s2bajpVYtzzMQWalQUS9H9AZsMO81ifWDUwdDncWNIc8P8AIMJb3zTFNUoIl/s1600/Pokhara+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63iBi55vin7SFq-_sGujsG8EY5Itaf2iRcftTj9nNyT3NPsiDNVurQjWZSBxNHmJqHUs3xiyiRLWZhcl7s2bajpVYtzzMQWalQUS9H9AZsMO81ifWDUwdDncWNIc8P8AIMJb3zTFNUoIl/s400/Pokhara+002.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the bus searching for a valid ATM.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div align="left">We arrived in Pokhara on a rickety old bus with a derelict driver that took 13 hours. Of all the buses we have been on through-out Africa, this one was the worst. At every bump and turn all the seats and windows would shake and creak. My window was barely intact and kept flying open. I really thought it was the end for us. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Pokhara took us by surprise. Aside from Mumbai, it was the most western town we've been to in India and Nepal put together. The "lakeside" section where our hotel was location was strickly built-up for tourists. There was an abundance of bars, restaurants and trek shops. We moved ourselves into the nicest hotel on the strip and for about $5.00 per person we had a top-notch room with WIFI, a proper bathroom with a western toliet (a very desirable novelty) and a view of the lake from our balcony.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdo3iDDWMAi3XEwtGgW3akH4VBNiU80lNy0qqJ06sdE8oxkzhzegBW1L_obwsfqo2ltGsicC7ODy7FsRYCjepHz-LCT_s5x0pv-dSuVIjFJ_n_W7gI2aliq6s7UixceB7oE_AdKEHPRT63/s1600/Pokhara+058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdo3iDDWMAi3XEwtGgW3akH4VBNiU80lNy0qqJ06sdE8oxkzhzegBW1L_obwsfqo2ltGsicC7ODy7FsRYCjepHz-LCT_s5x0pv-dSuVIjFJ_n_W7gI2aliq6s7UixceB7oE_AdKEHPRT63/s400/Pokhara+058.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Alright, so there was a family living out in the field in front of the lake but they were quite and harmless.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The lake was beautiful. We rented a boat and rowed ourselves across to hike up to the Peace Pagoda (Buddhist Stupa). It was built by a Japanese man in 1947 but was tore down mysterously by the government only to be re-erected in the 90's. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYWZNheKT4J8s-9i2_NYFYw_mnH-KC8FftFm6aGkwH636YIv2RxLtdV7fiycjh_MMVktc6wNl9mgS6h52HQLqMO0YVCJNGtUvQ2qlRblWLr4hPhPaPcNvOltnCC0ZEbGWDzbylPaaBYgS/s1600/Pokhara+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYWZNheKT4J8s-9i2_NYFYw_mnH-KC8FftFm6aGkwH636YIv2RxLtdV7fiycjh_MMVktc6wNl9mgS6h52HQLqMO0YVCJNGtUvQ2qlRblWLr4hPhPaPcNvOltnCC0ZEbGWDzbylPaaBYgS/s400/Pokhara+027.JPG" t8="true" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTUINDrtWDFni6J0Rr8i73q_0-pOA7dfRNKTIJvFOAC-sWuhNkb7XOpqOMPPZCENk25IhHcnDCIFvz5hDNiWcKq_Nca870nNMJVZIzninmPAv8weE4Lwok4iOmy-tAdOxKuRhWv55qGuP/s1600/Pokhara+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTUINDrtWDFni6J0Rr8i73q_0-pOA7dfRNKTIJvFOAC-sWuhNkb7XOpqOMPPZCENk25IhHcnDCIFvz5hDNiWcKq_Nca870nNMJVZIzninmPAv8weE4Lwok4iOmy-tAdOxKuRhWv55qGuP/s400/Pokhara+029.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The views were incredible.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">We spent the next three days exploring the city and stuffing our faces with $2.00 pizza and beer, the best we've had on this journey by far. The start of the Annapurna trek was delayed due to the city going on strike which shut all the taxi's and bus's down enabling us to leave. Nepal was in the middle of polishing up it's consitiution and all politicial party's were in an uproar. Unfortunately their tourism industry suffered greatly as a near 90% of tourist canceled their trips. Turns out it was a great and cheap time to come to Nepal. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFa8RYTo5svKASi8wfC5HJKHNvq09tbuUBpbFmcIsEXSYrNos5ffViArvStrqiF7gCE5B-KDdPxT5QWN61tByxOl2kFTv0MdVTTalOC8AM4GQYvKdQ3TVRsKc_t4CU2LlJT65D3EAaMxc2/s1600/Pokhara+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFa8RYTo5svKASi8wfC5HJKHNvq09tbuUBpbFmcIsEXSYrNos5ffViArvStrqiF7gCE5B-KDdPxT5QWN61tByxOl2kFTv0MdVTTalOC8AM4GQYvKdQ3TVRsKc_t4CU2LlJT65D3EAaMxc2/s400/Pokhara+005.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Soldiers patroling the streets on strike day.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCpncltO538rSvCxNT3gfnJ1_LwanwWN_3qyemcA4r-FoOay3SBC_quRQ3A-WuYAJR-Vp9C4_q5WDuWkDPcE6t5u06hDou0CS8RXzmE5ctUw1kFxK6qjhpNgTApsmE_5vQHPshXevamXF/s1600/Pokhara+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCpncltO538rSvCxNT3gfnJ1_LwanwWN_3qyemcA4r-FoOay3SBC_quRQ3A-WuYAJR-Vp9C4_q5WDuWkDPcE6t5u06hDou0CS8RXzmE5ctUw1kFxK6qjhpNgTApsmE_5vQHPshXevamXF/s400/Pokhara+056.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A wedding party of females dancing in the street for hours.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-39392491210307287362011-05-28T01:31:00.000-07:002011-05-28T01:31:10.043-07:00The Best of India.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Darjeeling, India</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lying in bed with the blankets pulled up and tucked under my chin, my nose is the only cold extremity left. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After months of sweltering heat the cold is a welcome reminder of home. My body has been rejuvenated by the cold and participates happily in climbing the streets of Darjeeling, an incredible city built 7,000 feet up in the Himalayas with tea plantations crawling all over the mountains.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We climbed to the toppling height of Darjeeling in a shared jeep taxi and I was squished against the far back window with a lever jabbing my right shoulder at every bump along the way. The main road was closed due to a landslide and all vehicles were routed to the steeper (but shorter) route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we piled into the jeep at the New Jalpaiguri train station in route to Darjeeling, I honestly didn’t think my body could handle any more rides like this. New Jalpaiguri was the stop-over city we came to from Varanasi and was about equal to the heat of it as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few harsh words to the driver and his helping touts when they squished four people on the three-seat bench in back, I realized that, again, I could do nothing but bear it without a grin. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That was the tail end of a horrific journey from Varanasi which tested my patience and tolerance. Our train was scheduled to leave Varanasi at 6:30 pm and once we arrived, happy to be leaving, we were hit with a six hour train delay. ‘What could we do? Where could we go?’ we thought. After a search through the station we settled in the second class waiting room with fans to help better the humid heat. All along the concrete floor, the locals had strung out blankets and were sleeping, which made me think delays were a regular occurrence. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Being a western tourist, you seem to attract other western tourists and we befriended an Italian girl, upon our arrival to the station, who was sick with a virus that left her incapable of helping herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just so happened that she was booked on our train as well so we took the liberty of making sure she was settled and comfortable with plenty of water and a promise that we wouldn’t leave without her. She was so ill that she puked behind my bench in the waiting room catching the attention of everyone who then scrambled fast away. Their lack of concern over her vomiting led me to believe that this, also, was a regular occurrence among westerns.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Six hours turned into twelve and we finally caught the train at half past 7:00 the next morning. Heath and I sat on hard, metal benches for those long hours in the station, numbing our behinds and trying to deaden our sense of smell, as the only benches left were next to the bathrooms. Luckily, I had bought Jane Eyre at a book store in Varanasi which mentally took me away with its 509 pages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The book was finished within 24 hours. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All this trouble and pain disappeared when we finally threw our bags on the floor of, yet, another hotel room. Victory comes at the finish line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was mentally depleted and landed face first on the bed but that still didn’t take away the feeling of success. We made it, finally.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Darjeeling’s beauty overwhelmed me. We spent our sunny, brisk days visiting the Zoo, the Tibetan Refugee Center, walking the steep and windy streets and eating delicious Tibetan Momos and Thupka (steamed pot stickers and noodle soup). It was a welcome change from the overly spicy Indian food and didn’t have monstrous side effects. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The three days in Darjeeling was our prize for such a treacherous journey and it was well worth it.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXrUsNclaMn1VHkE_WyaYD0XKCkHFFedfbV0za2jQqqZGwYo-cdI-d91FiU9MqtOQBn5QUiiKSb-74WwrJHABFH36Q9bwhfVjViyrleRedOqIraq-4EKc9t4lT_95_x8R0pUBrvQuozP0/s1600/India+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXrUsNclaMn1VHkE_WyaYD0XKCkHFFedfbV0za2jQqqZGwYo-cdI-d91FiU9MqtOQBn5QUiiKSb-74WwrJHABFH36Q9bwhfVjViyrleRedOqIraq-4EKc9t4lT_95_x8R0pUBrvQuozP0/s400/India+040.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A kid sweeper taking a snooze at the train station.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevVZytGxEWQ-Nwweww9GPG_NdSqLsuK9IQQ6p7isHd9px_6oh5SQ7T7wBudxylFZ5G_JSAbtOW7ozsEb_bwndEaEe_DU8S6Ou5v3In72zY69_PdM7kDfRIkZZWB66sIFFrpg_2Z90cA0D/s1600/India+059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevVZytGxEWQ-Nwweww9GPG_NdSqLsuK9IQQ6p7isHd9px_6oh5SQ7T7wBudxylFZ5G_JSAbtOW7ozsEb_bwndEaEe_DU8S6Ou5v3In72zY69_PdM7kDfRIkZZWB66sIFFrpg_2Z90cA0D/s400/India+059.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tea planation</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFz3FPN0Lp031ai41_wz0Bw4syPyaV9UJ0jRKZ9pqbejaZZfRcZSgfzq65YyeB_HfNhc-vTUvF-I8o6rTd7D7djD2leTt7vHjuNoG1q6GJbGsEd8T-UR-L_PzVbi4L5x7HXU3GvcIIZ-5Y/s1600/India+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFz3FPN0Lp031ai41_wz0Bw4syPyaV9UJ0jRKZ9pqbejaZZfRcZSgfzq65YyeB_HfNhc-vTUvF-I8o6rTd7D7djD2leTt7vHjuNoG1q6GJbGsEd8T-UR-L_PzVbi4L5x7HXU3GvcIIZ-5Y/s400/India+076.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Darjeeling market and a guy moving electrical wires out of the way.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjM-a3LgYIcqdirxE56lGMGZHOuGYaopR95tlhc3-XyP60-q1nUNTBH3QUGEhEIMYRynliPGdT32Ca8fFi-qWQ12M0LRLUBm6DiglA0VLJtrj1BJY8BaLklRRkRNY5SBnnBrb4Ez74sRE/s1600/India+095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjM-a3LgYIcqdirxE56lGMGZHOuGYaopR95tlhc3-XyP60-q1nUNTBH3QUGEhEIMYRynliPGdT32Ca8fFi-qWQ12M0LRLUBm6DiglA0VLJtrj1BJY8BaLklRRkRNY5SBnnBrb4Ez74sRE/s400/India+095.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A very happy snow leopard at the Darjeeling Zoo.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhel9P3w6UbJ4CiD7ENtAoDCzDoj7twCQ_43kI_WwGxGAW69VJbvnPqx50MpclvXZsUIhTFgcf6DKrNrTuHrTaOEz90oBlikjj-XfvXe-sq_O8dxIE6gd4zBVp3CmPukgLqYluULH_8iS/s1600/India+121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhel9P3w6UbJ4CiD7ENtAoDCzDoj7twCQ_43kI_WwGxGAW69VJbvnPqx50MpclvXZsUIhTFgcf6DKrNrTuHrTaOEz90oBlikjj-XfvXe-sq_O8dxIE6gd4zBVp3CmPukgLqYluULH_8iS/s400/India+121.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">An Indian family wanting to take a photo with me.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwLcJwzFovXa7vL9sbzG-DOnrVjtA2sevXxMcSDMHt_Xi0RanOZ6lHznXMqtdn6CzrL-9oLEPJ7zcTcLWc4jw-CsxWrubuGiPmBcePfztQWthQgMZG3gK3rbdaqD1lF-2LO0deqUymJse/s1600/India+130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwLcJwzFovXa7vL9sbzG-DOnrVjtA2sevXxMcSDMHt_Xi0RanOZ6lHznXMqtdn6CzrL-9oLEPJ7zcTcLWc4jw-CsxWrubuGiPmBcePfztQWthQgMZG3gK3rbdaqD1lF-2LO0deqUymJse/s400/India+130.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A foggy day in Darjeeling.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXDS2k0usUw7TMu7TbiDrmo7i4Ni84Hq9vAnBc5MPgEZcSYxmw72ePZSuSTE3Da6esRyp-qW5eePPauf6Aw7i0QQYpq85cm8cia8YMUb0Rg98DzMYU8z2TFikmrS4gNxEre3AYvCo_0Ue/s1600/India+137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXDS2k0usUw7TMu7TbiDrmo7i4Ni84Hq9vAnBc5MPgEZcSYxmw72ePZSuSTE3Da6esRyp-qW5eePPauf6Aw7i0QQYpq85cm8cia8YMUb0Rg98DzMYU8z2TFikmrS4gNxEre3AYvCo_0Ue/s400/India+137.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the way to the Tibetan Refugee Center.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpac6HRNsRWuat5dpLpiEAdEbRZ16xZc8g34pPZMHwsmFjCfYam-9-tu_SUFh25gcM26imASTPf2kaUYMx2Lx8AlXXB9risloSgzK9u7vtrdZJPQvoii6wlIaac4ifgGMG_9z5lQ2UT5N/s1600/India+160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpac6HRNsRWuat5dpLpiEAdEbRZ16xZc8g34pPZMHwsmFjCfYam-9-tu_SUFh25gcM26imASTPf2kaUYMx2Lx8AlXXB9risloSgzK9u7vtrdZJPQvoii6wlIaac4ifgGMG_9z5lQ2UT5N/s400/India+160.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">More tea planations.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6Y3s8npnWetB7tMSER8x8nfYUIUPFctqiIUVooVxvb-azr7siN6rNs2d0yyRkkeMC-OP5yOM-iuVDcUCBNUT5hYaTzhRH9u0gdm9kIMP79cSIcZo44_jmwSmopX1yWwmmAP2gGzs8sTd/s1600/India+224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6Y3s8npnWetB7tMSER8x8nfYUIUPFctqiIUVooVxvb-azr7siN6rNs2d0yyRkkeMC-OP5yOM-iuVDcUCBNUT5hYaTzhRH9u0gdm9kIMP79cSIcZo44_jmwSmopX1yWwmmAP2gGzs8sTd/s400/India+224.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the Darjeeling Toy Train.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-59228132371789711552011-05-24T20:47:00.000-07:002011-05-24T20:47:42.748-07:00Trekking in Nepal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Will be back in a few short days to post several blog. As you can imagine, internet is hard to find on the Annapurna Circuit. <br />
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Stay Tuned!!!!</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-12872382323699140592011-05-11T04:26:00.000-07:002011-05-11T04:26:52.332-07:00Waste<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Varanasi, India</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My liking of India is burning off in the immense heat, along with the liters and liters of water I’ve been downing. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We made it to Varanasi by taxi from Tala which totaled an 8 hour drive. The roads were missing huge chunks of concrete causing the taxi to bump and jerk its way along, making all of us nauseous. The trains have been jammed-packed due to summer vacation for schools and all of India is traveling right now. To avoid staying any longer in Tala we managed to talk a taxi driver down to a bearable amount and shared his car with a French couple who kept us entertained the whole way. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Varanasi lies on the Ganges River and is considered to the Hindu the holiest river in the world. It’s so holy that it hovers, along with the city, above the earth, one local explained. To me it is the filthiest place I’ve ever been too. The streets and alleys are littered with cow and dog shit and general sewage. It’s impossible to walk and look at the sights at the same time because you constantly play hop-scotch along the paths to avoid all the garbage. I stepped in a hole with black, murky sewage water and felt instantly ill. This place is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. I have to walk around with my scarf covering my face because of the smell. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not only are the streets filthy but the river also. At one end you have the “burning ghats” where, those who can afford it, get burned at the edge of the river and then pushed in the water (no photos allowed). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The burning never stops. There is an eternal flame that all the bodies are lite from which has been burning for 3,500 years, they say. After they get pushed into the river they are called River Souls. We saw half lumps of dead bodies floating in the river on our boat tour. Birds use them for rest breaks. What is even worse, not 100 meters away people are swimming and bathing in the same river! </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just to show us how “holy” the water was our boat guide reached his hand into the water and took a big gulp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘How do they not get sick’ you might ask. Their bodies build up immunity to it after decades of bathing, swimming and drinking it. People can live in this filth because it’s inside of them. They consider themselves holy to be able to withstand the pollution. The city has the same population of Los Angeles so the streets are swarming with bicycles, taxi’s, rickshaw’s (three-wheeled motorbikes) and people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All are either honking their horn at you or running into to you. It’s madness that I cannot tolerate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hindu’s believe that cows are sacred and that they carry human souls. They are free to roam the streets as they like and live off the garbage people throw down for them. The dogs, on the other hand, are the souls of the sinful people reincarnated. These dogs are sick, hurt, mangy, starving, wounded and often bleeding. I can hardly walk down the street without tears in my eyes seeing these poor creatures knowing that I can’t do anything for them.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Varanasi is the holy city of garbage. No matter what someone tells me about India I will always remember this city and immediately feel sick.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think 48 hours is a good amount of time to spend in this city. That gives you a chance to browse their beautiful silks and get a feel for the city. We spent four days here. After the second day it took all of my strength to leave the hotel. Food was the driving force and we, unfortunately, didn't stay at a place with a restaurant. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJf6xvvq9BMlA6ez8sWcg1YlDjT_euPzpzRZPTRGh1er4N_7wWg8DM0FbjbHiNVQCQ9FlBrouD2IdNIK8H5RX-3t2BFAztDJVkQFsYj5lqrbEV1wvhz1u8Lti2PkXj9HM0Qg6hAZHuS7p/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJf6xvvq9BMlA6ez8sWcg1YlDjT_euPzpzRZPTRGh1er4N_7wWg8DM0FbjbHiNVQCQ9FlBrouD2IdNIK8H5RX-3t2BFAztDJVkQFsYj5lqrbEV1wvhz1u8Lti2PkXj9HM0Qg6hAZHuS7p/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+099.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cows feast on garbage and throw it right back onto the ground.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijnI5qpowY1sl9GuqwusgOErscjoni-uT0YvlDhZ_CyP_Lxb7H3oePoB_73ZOG7XapbTuEQxlh-oOLzfJZFvQ0SkO4IS1WsNl2KtZ7vCWKboeYsVtH3T2BuaK5b8MdFUYmKpvfEMdtHPHU/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijnI5qpowY1sl9GuqwusgOErscjoni-uT0YvlDhZ_CyP_Lxb7H3oePoB_73ZOG7XapbTuEQxlh-oOLzfJZFvQ0SkO4IS1WsNl2KtZ7vCWKboeYsVtH3T2BuaK5b8MdFUYmKpvfEMdtHPHU/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+068.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bicycle rickshaw's waiting for a fare.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKI0yzSbpWvIdsGE0FR_GHuGD_EM7t9Z5ZgwbARBAtyih9OU9OYF7kD5T2c0xL6vmY6UHzrcvEPn1ZA_ASHGd9Z5W3KCGQs0EKImOCqDC41Xh0E6bAuCP8TYUim7JvnEuIdQwxU_p4k2L/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKI0yzSbpWvIdsGE0FR_GHuGD_EM7t9Z5ZgwbARBAtyih9OU9OYF7kD5T2c0xL6vmY6UHzrcvEPn1ZA_ASHGd9Z5W3KCGQs0EKImOCqDC41Xh0E6bAuCP8TYUim7JvnEuIdQwxU_p4k2L/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+085.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hop-scotching</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1KmocoqzU9MTPc2FyuHQj2LJUb32DKbDXBfL-2fDQwWuPzkHK2U_iSfTPKoiz1-3ZktaVTV9iJXDAu9QZYiJbo4XIMrZXkMIZWWjemlgUxKCWTM8kxtDJ055nX88Yl21TprtQmh23NLk/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1KmocoqzU9MTPc2FyuHQj2LJUb32DKbDXBfL-2fDQwWuPzkHK2U_iSfTPKoiz1-3ZktaVTV9iJXDAu9QZYiJbo4XIMrZXkMIZWWjemlgUxKCWTM8kxtDJ055nX88Yl21TprtQmh23NLk/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+091.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Always in the way.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSmvCMEd5ZVkVXjWpyoaQWczZ8wLeZ8oA_kcDru-b0BdtF0WkKRQfuA9U7TTkjDsoK5H1hIpYHly0cB4XkyahKxVUksOXgMs2jfLyJqEivZaXboKo-zLzPsZXggFK2albPvOc_2FECRq6/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSmvCMEd5ZVkVXjWpyoaQWczZ8wLeZ8oA_kcDru-b0BdtF0WkKRQfuA9U7TTkjDsoK5H1hIpYHly0cB4XkyahKxVUksOXgMs2jfLyJqEivZaXboKo-zLzPsZXggFK2albPvOc_2FECRq6/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+094.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cow dung and motorcycles. These bikes tear up and down the alleys, honking angrily at people.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTOG-fHaf34ecA4P5V5gv2iUW7cVR3V86uaQ8boXoewhNd8gJ56OWLAqYTLRMvVwH3XvaviOhqWvDeEN9fio5dTbJU8hoUyfFjlplqY6QO2MVcj2CnXb8IBbpHtHVR2SFfU5DbRn56Xss/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTOG-fHaf34ecA4P5V5gv2iUW7cVR3V86uaQ8boXoewhNd8gJ56OWLAqYTLRMvVwH3XvaviOhqWvDeEN9fio5dTbJU8hoUyfFjlplqY6QO2MVcj2CnXb8IBbpHtHVR2SFfU5DbRn56Xss/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+102.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But they have really beautiful silks.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzES_B9UVxXxNDCUUy4_fQpgF7X6GmBiKx-C92ZQvLOGZty69_SFvvZNNW4YV1KSQmDm17cGrnDxIm1XsTA0lVZQ0WPY61tGDEn6wXWgklie1zRWIVrThTeso6M3kVrzOtUFc254O5IftT/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzES_B9UVxXxNDCUUy4_fQpgF7X6GmBiKx-C92ZQvLOGZty69_SFvvZNNW4YV1KSQmDm17cGrnDxIm1XsTA0lVZQ0WPY61tGDEn6wXWgklie1zRWIVrThTeso6M3kVrzOtUFc254O5IftT/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+096.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This photo is a bit too small to see the wound. His front leg is very hurt. This is one of hundreds, maybe thousands, of sick dogs on the streets.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-21660628286154215072011-05-06T08:03:00.000-07:002011-05-06T08:03:59.642-07:00India hit me.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was always very curious why people would tell me, before this trip, that three weeks in India is not enough time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it because of the size? That it would take you longer than three weeks to do the route we chose? Or was it because India is just so beautiful that a few days to a week in one destination is just not enough time to experience what that city has to offer? Being in India now, I’ve finally made sense of that statement and all the above questions have an answer of no.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The real answer is: sickness. You have to plan for some time to be stuck in bed, in a non-air conditioned room, in the middle of their summer (lucky me) with a stomach virus from hell and a headache that lasts 4 plus days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My illness only lasted a week and didn’t put us off schedule too much but still inflicted tremendous amounts of pain on my mind, body and soul.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The great town I was stuck in is about a kilometer long just outside the Bandhavgarh National Park (a tiger sanctuary), called Tala. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, don’t get me wrong, the staff of the hotel were patient and understanding. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t flinch at our 5<sup>th</sup> toilet paper roll request and were sincere in their concern of my health. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lack of AC was the biggest problem and not having the strength to put on proper clothes to enjoy the slight breeze outside, I was stuck in the sweltering hotness of our hotel room. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did have a fan, which was lovely when it worked. The electricity was usually out between 8-11 every morning and in the evening from 3 until whenever they decided to give the poor town more electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tala is in the state of<strong> </strong>Madhya Pradesh which does not have their own power plant therefore they must rely on the state next door to fuel them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I suffered.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Between the Indian headache medicines which actually worked better than the German stuff I brought and some codeine that a friendly guest gave me and some rehydration salts that his travel partner threw in, I was on my way to perfect health….eventually.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Who’s really to say what actually made me sick, there’s no way to know (it wasn't the brains!). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to be quite honest, this amount of time in India (almost two weeks) has really done me in with their food. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How someone can eat curry that much in one day is beyond me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is also surprising is that India was a British colony for a long, long time and yet there are no reminisces of British food like there is in Africa. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that English food is the greatest but after this long with curry you would kill for a sausage roll. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Indian’s eat Indian food and that is all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tried “Italian” one night which was just pasta with India spices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I honestly cannot eat anymore curry, plain and simple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hopefully, the next city has more of a selection. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here is a couple of photos I took when I did manage to peel myself off the bed.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4uyy63QJkPkVqJoA_oY5yYRoWQazlSvp6zyK2bTj9TItjxEpEi6qwSjDE3Trr9K1k97bitO7BANaYeryfAOwknkBBYZtGC3Xoi4Ko9H5ORgqDNK3KOG0tJYnZO3ejluG32BUjEgPqoTL/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4uyy63QJkPkVqJoA_oY5yYRoWQazlSvp6zyK2bTj9TItjxEpEi6qwSjDE3Trr9K1k97bitO7BANaYeryfAOwknkBBYZtGC3Xoi4Ko9H5ORgqDNK3KOG0tJYnZO3ejluG32BUjEgPqoTL/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A view from the rooftop of our hotel "Royal Guest House" in Tala. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikci9IJKkBB-IEZBOfu_7qF4ZLNHWEV5L3as5glEr4W6XXiAQnR1Y0JpBwB47J7EJrlEwfn4dgfR2S4CRr_i6M8_COYG9gGHHUtIVP6H5Gm4xGQGeoiAebLJHSrFIc8Vqn73D6Pfo9g2Zm/s1600/Tiger+park-Varanasi+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikci9IJKkBB-IEZBOfu_7qF4ZLNHWEV5L3as5glEr4W6XXiAQnR1Y0JpBwB47J7EJrlEwfn4dgfR2S4CRr_i6M8_COYG9gGHHUtIVP6H5Gm4xGQGeoiAebLJHSrFIc8Vqn73D6Pfo9g2Zm/s400/Tiger+park-Varanasi+010.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A very bumpy (ouch) jeep excursion through the national park. Here are some guards on their preferred method of transport. We didn't see any tigers.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-23669942591038508092011-05-01T04:35:00.000-07:002011-05-01T04:35:37.721-07:00India begins.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mumbai, India</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There’s no telling how hot the streets get during the day. The humidity is soaring and the crowds of chaos only make the streets more dense and make the sweat drip out fast from every pore. Once you accept and deal with the heat you can turn your focus on the beautiful life buzzing around the streets. People of all ages, all classes, swarm the narrow alleys, walking in and out of traffic with no regard to rules or stop lights. That is something a tourist will have to get used to. You will be the only person left standing on the street corner waiting patiently to cross. Even the cars will slow down to stare at you with astonishment that you are actually waiting your turn to cross.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the most part street vendors and beggars leave you alone, unlike major cities in Africa. Only on occasion you will find dressed up women in colorful robes with their children in their arms who run up to you begging for money or food and will grab your arm if you try to walk away. They live on the streets and sidewalks with their entire family. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s difficult to see but that is just life here. These families depend on hand-outs and by rummaging through garbage’s. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do my part with a couple of rupees here and there, as I can do nothing else.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The constant noise of blowing horns will drive you mad if you let it. Every few seconds a horn goes off either at other vehicles, pedestrians or just simply because they want themselves noticed. You will get honked at by taxi’s to let you know they are available. Which is great if you are looking for one, annoying and horrible if you are not. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It took me a solid day to realize that when I tell someone “no” with a shake of my head that it actually means “yes” here. People would look at me confused as if I really did want to buy those clothes, that watch, that book, those purses. Shaking your head back and forth means okay or yes in the Indian culture. Let me tell you, it’s really hard to get used to. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">To beat the mid-day heat, Heath and I decided to see a movie. We were in luck when the premiere of Dum Marro Dum was playing. A great mix of a seventies porn meets Hawaii 5-0 and filmed Guy Ritchie style. Throw in a couple of music videos, which the main characters break out in, and you’ve got yourself a fantastically awesome film. I recommend it to anyone. It was such a great experience we went to another air-conditioned movie the next day. This one was not as good, with absolutely no English, but still worth every Rupee, all $3.00 of them.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We have been on a culinary adventure this trip. Someone would make a fortune if they wrote a guide book to Indian food especially for travel junkies like me. The menus are in English but the names of all the dishes are impossible to understand. The waiter usually just says “chicken with liquid”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That helps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did manage to find something that I’ve wanted to try ever since reading Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall food memoirs from the River Cottage food program (BBC), who swears by this dish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Brains.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I ordered Brains Masala. It was excellent. The soft, squishy brain was almost tasteless but added a great texture to the spicy curry dish. Hugh recommends it lightly breaded and fried in butter with sage. If I can’t find that here I will definitely be cooking it at home. Hopefully it will not be too hard to track down sheep’s brains in Portland.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love Mumbai and its madness. I love the bright colors draped around the women. I love the 50’s style dress all the men wear. I adore the thick black mustaches which is more common than jeans. The people are beautiful with their perfect complexions and tanned skin. Everyone seems to take pride in their dress and style but not in a “Hollywood” glamour sense. Women don’t need to wear make-up here and most don’t. They accentuate their beauty with brightly color dresses with sparkling bead work. You truly step back into time in this city. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The short four days we spent in this city is not enough and I look forward to the day I can come back and eat some more brains.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VO4-aTzsEwWqQeIl3G8s7i0NoqcLtyi3BwJ_Er8ihiMJ5KKd11wkZi6TAdEn_yMOwgHntmp1oHiU7T0J_1kIZ4ASbtbUJaglwYFWcf8ouzD_dvpr_rnCTw6ZjtQtBfOeRnhfWzDzZWM4/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VO4-aTzsEwWqQeIl3G8s7i0NoqcLtyi3BwJ_Er8ihiMJ5KKd11wkZi6TAdEn_yMOwgHntmp1oHiU7T0J_1kIZ4ASbtbUJaglwYFWcf8ouzD_dvpr_rnCTw6ZjtQtBfOeRnhfWzDzZWM4/s400/Mumbai-Taj+022.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">People live everywhere and anywhere.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHn_AoNoBKZQMLn-MnrT1lXJgXdHIgjhBZPdRiO0JWKJhvsvpo55MPM-lCObwVJ284y2kFQGzhdKZKdp-fGkznc81qfkbcdg14Hiq4UF_8VxX5dXjEYHEbZcAfFUnETprQWMFMQiC83Owm/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHn_AoNoBKZQMLn-MnrT1lXJgXdHIgjhBZPdRiO0JWKJhvsvpo55MPM-lCObwVJ284y2kFQGzhdKZKdp-fGkznc81qfkbcdg14Hiq4UF_8VxX5dXjEYHEbZcAfFUnETprQWMFMQiC83Owm/s400/Mumbai-Taj+041.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A normal method of transporting of goods.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp36PnHX5UZcYQyGJ2B5raq1Nkl6WBqcVOAQGO9lUqme15hmywR-vlACF9GfCfIpTQANGosGBRxqzbg3fYr8I191y75EyBAqlTshjqpJawN5urvqk5pBkxUZrO1Qh9LpUvk2-nEMWNxhe5/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp36PnHX5UZcYQyGJ2B5raq1Nkl6WBqcVOAQGO9lUqme15hmywR-vlACF9GfCfIpTQANGosGBRxqzbg3fYr8I191y75EyBAqlTshjqpJawN5urvqk5pBkxUZrO1Qh9LpUvk2-nEMWNxhe5/s400/Mumbai-Taj+045.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Small shop man with storage in the ceiling.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbaHS9grt3ex1RU7J99gPqA9ZSuUPzNYWYDcLD6pVdwkrXBvF2ZlUCza3NJIcWkPXkeonrC7Xm8yx24w_pKM_Uj_ASSUTS7bsirhBsMCKKicOyka9riEZMlOxV1aF4O8K_jQBM-oI2j5KX/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbaHS9grt3ex1RU7J99gPqA9ZSuUPzNYWYDcLD6pVdwkrXBvF2ZlUCza3NJIcWkPXkeonrC7Xm8yx24w_pKM_Uj_ASSUTS7bsirhBsMCKKicOyka9riEZMlOxV1aF4O8K_jQBM-oI2j5KX/s400/Mumbai-Taj+053.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just another street in Mumbai.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieA-3IdF7S6edWs3gtj7-YKCJjJ4M7fKcNVy2mK8TLYa-usSObxIiEc0zB_SJuM3bny-OmzWxh7GNecGC9NHCnxl4P44zv25Y1tbup16JM7wupskdivejv1sPU8UJN4hqIEtcVkkp_WPZ4/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieA-3IdF7S6edWs3gtj7-YKCJjJ4M7fKcNVy2mK8TLYa-usSObxIiEc0zB_SJuM3bny-OmzWxh7GNecGC9NHCnxl4P44zv25Y1tbup16JM7wupskdivejv1sPU8UJN4hqIEtcVkkp_WPZ4/s400/Mumbai-Taj+075.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">PUNJABI!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2tNwIqBO4dShk2uK9nsvfgAWl1y3CEJnXWpN3mdHuItzuI0Xu9tZfdjs8HEb_OwmcB8XSW9fHuJZaeXm_sHWFvvWa3JR5pmJ9efKIIpnLI854gcIc56g7XHdV5QBy0Na5ZTammXdAA6PP/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2tNwIqBO4dShk2uK9nsvfgAWl1y3CEJnXWpN3mdHuItzuI0Xu9tZfdjs8HEb_OwmcB8XSW9fHuJZaeXm_sHWFvvWa3JR5pmJ9efKIIpnLI854gcIc56g7XHdV5QBy0Na5ZTammXdAA6PP/s400/Mumbai-Taj+096.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Getting blessed...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLkjrcyvY1AN7VOuorxdKZOFb0ip7ooEQ5ulXz4XGVU0BqRusZL5AYTNX6RqCqRIVNdkgRino5om_C9D76XxxLi4HPbZW3CuysrKEQ5jLJMVR9sY3FYkePhQb7oXiCW3MTTiar2boNvHss/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLkjrcyvY1AN7VOuorxdKZOFb0ip7ooEQ5ulXz4XGVU0BqRusZL5AYTNX6RqCqRIVNdkgRino5om_C9D76XxxLi4HPbZW3CuysrKEQ5jLJMVR9sY3FYkePhQb7oXiCW3MTTiar2boNvHss/s400/Mumbai-Taj+145.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My bag did fit.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxxCTtB2UX1IbxQr20pTM6UrN4UuXuKJr5RwB8Xd2vSmEg5Fk5HhmQLXLauW1Rhy44o7zryJeITESooXfQ42HlzD8uyFhb1v4j5rC9En5AjDNfS-KZS9VjMdE_v5HQaTo3jNuJ0XR2dbf/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxxCTtB2UX1IbxQr20pTM6UrN4UuXuKJr5RwB8Xd2vSmEg5Fk5HhmQLXLauW1Rhy44o7zryJeITESooXfQ42HlzD8uyFhb1v4j5rC9En5AjDNfS-KZS9VjMdE_v5HQaTo3jNuJ0XR2dbf/s400/Mumbai-Taj+154.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The spice Market in Agra.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgQhH0eb3qnpTY6ndMiPXHY05PbcyC5-XwvwtPDLP3DHY4EtwDC_8T_-IcRxigEeNlZgTnz-rN1o_QZ_b_y_nThiDS-QGNpIuqGAqtx3LamylNbEMC9l9NJcoj_veipOWkD06nK8Bwp4t/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgQhH0eb3qnpTY6ndMiPXHY05PbcyC5-XwvwtPDLP3DHY4EtwDC_8T_-IcRxigEeNlZgTnz-rN1o_QZ_b_y_nThiDS-QGNpIuqGAqtx3LamylNbEMC9l9NJcoj_veipOWkD06nK8Bwp4t/s400/Mumbai-Taj+162.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Eating a stolen lunch on the train tracks.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmW8wk9KNgtGGnbWhEfl9811TUOEyBJ59Rw_F9YMKbnvWpJ_ktH6GdaDLvPWqAvLnBRT7JoboGP5XTtI6Bx2qt1fDd9k2Z8oyb0Bl054yG9mNBFJrXJ7SMjK7HB-fKzJnmgTBJLnrEUpR/s1600/Mumbai-Taj+190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmW8wk9KNgtGGnbWhEfl9811TUOEyBJ59Rw_F9YMKbnvWpJ_ktH6GdaDLvPWqAvLnBRT7JoboGP5XTtI6Bx2qt1fDd9k2Z8oyb0Bl054yG9mNBFJrXJ7SMjK7HB-fKzJnmgTBJLnrEUpR/s400/Mumbai-Taj+190.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Agra train station.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-5EZlHBJR6hXI5cQpSkgUlBAJS-f8V441BMNZmwQOgL7KcA9eGWfgtVggwEut-SsnGsrga5QODozYkcz18_vOk1iK8BzbubHsc4_VZD3oKw1_2aDq6wcu8s4wa7tXRq-4fACpnlcI7PU/s1600/SA+and+Mumbai+090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-5EZlHBJR6hXI5cQpSkgUlBAJS-f8V441BMNZmwQOgL7KcA9eGWfgtVggwEut-SsnGsrga5QODozYkcz18_vOk1iK8BzbubHsc4_VZD3oKw1_2aDq6wcu8s4wa7tXRq-4fACpnlcI7PU/s400/SA+and+Mumbai+090.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Goods Carrier</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbaHoAkPmxoKTJgPPGIXXDEMxmNfdOpcfwPjzHdgBOEGDGNBuDIJt2mDiDVKWmVrWWFNi4wF2bbVzTVZCINa9ARwDaGFICJpKU3Nfeq_5KBlXaTWy48f5TPRjyMXkrhyBJglaR_5-FreN/s1600/SA+and+Mumbai+102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbaHoAkPmxoKTJgPPGIXXDEMxmNfdOpcfwPjzHdgBOEGDGNBuDIJt2mDiDVKWmVrWWFNi4wF2bbVzTVZCINa9ARwDaGFICJpKU3Nfeq_5KBlXaTWy48f5TPRjyMXkrhyBJglaR_5-FreN/s400/SA+and+Mumbai+102.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And finally, Brains...</div></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-44261719182610662702011-04-23T09:40:00.000-07:002011-04-23T09:41:35.225-07:00They have money, lots of it.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Doha, Qatar.<br />
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For some unknown reason Qatar Air, the airlines we decided to use to get us to India, changed their Johannesburg to Mumbai flight which left us stuck in Doha for 21 hours. When I called Qatar Air expecting a major hassle to sort out the issue, I was shocked. Not only did they apologize for the change, they booked us a hotel room plus our visas to explore the city for those short hours. An all around applause for the greatest airlines in the world.<br />
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Our hotel was the Moevnpick situated downtown across from the Four Seasons. Moevnpick might not have the fancy name of it's neighbor but it sure compares in quality. In our 5th floor view, in a 25 story high-rise, we gazed out the window to a magical high-rise heaven. The hotel room was fancier and just about bigger than any apartment I've rented. It had a kitchen, king-size bed and a small living room.<br />
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Did I mention that all of our meals were free?<br />
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Money and style oozes out of the buildings and immaculate streets. Coming from Africa, this was shock to my system. A good shock.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlfaNjYNzczpwGujtgVmQqnvZzJn5VdKlC8cVfu5Aa5cZQKKHW4IO2rhZFN0KOn_ZQyPYyd5GbFCi5IvlGR618wjoDBiEqCFGL7a9DRduaZmf1SUEannIrFmpFPJXd2xycoqWb_NnFz5a/s1600/SA+and+Mumbai+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlfaNjYNzczpwGujtgVmQqnvZzJn5VdKlC8cVfu5Aa5cZQKKHW4IO2rhZFN0KOn_ZQyPYyd5GbFCi5IvlGR618wjoDBiEqCFGL7a9DRduaZmf1SUEannIrFmpFPJXd2xycoqWb_NnFz5a/s400/SA+and+Mumbai+039.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Standing outside theMuseum of Islamic Art.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1MD1LZ_vthpB8vp0nXxV96mAYaNmNNsncRj-JVYTOgmfXHDZ-gBuWVA-rMu_PRL2qcC1zlg44LDbf3naju4-gaNixXxAm2yvog0JObV32iKmZWwk1hHyRYtcKbjStHC4ubPwwste8G1X8/s1600/SA+and+Mumbai+044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1MD1LZ_vthpB8vp0nXxV96mAYaNmNNsncRj-JVYTOgmfXHDZ-gBuWVA-rMu_PRL2qcC1zlg44LDbf3naju4-gaNixXxAm2yvog0JObV32iKmZWwk1hHyRYtcKbjStHC4ubPwwste8G1X8/s400/SA+and+Mumbai+044.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Warrior of ancient (unknown) times.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCQ1mNXFNuUjxRlLVq8T47buAv0ncnqNXwgqF72kKiXywD6L9RqWCRZtVCyFWVi-S9DI4s_lDMUZ2ku5kf9t1D_JEK7bCYeXHToeTgb8-VSV62ZZWlwAkNsUYJvEwqmG-RrSZ-7YlD2_I/s1600/SA+and+Mumbai+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCQ1mNXFNuUjxRlLVq8T47buAv0ncnqNXwgqF72kKiXywD6L9RqWCRZtVCyFWVi-S9DI4s_lDMUZ2ku5kf9t1D_JEK7bCYeXHToeTgb8-VSV62ZZWlwAkNsUYJvEwqmG-RrSZ-7YlD2_I/s400/SA+and+Mumbai+048.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The most beautiful jewerly I've ever seen.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYW0f6Mp4eEo3WMkfRrRgwg5mhlUDIwXR3AIRQ1wRFpCUxdaTK8yLaxLyTOADYx3bCBAga8UMkZzFUqdsMPRw-dLVf0NDX7i54urGyXe3MBcc1QCUwxF5yhpVT_12Iydk6zO94M-o4cCJO/s1600/SA+and+Mumbai+053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYW0f6Mp4eEo3WMkfRrRgwg5mhlUDIwXR3AIRQ1wRFpCUxdaTK8yLaxLyTOADYx3bCBAga8UMkZzFUqdsMPRw-dLVf0NDX7i54urGyXe3MBcc1QCUwxF5yhpVT_12Iydk6zO94M-o4cCJO/s400/SA+and+Mumbai+053.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Museum is on the right, our hotel was in the mix of high-rises in the distance.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9fyw3IhqX0rWFImDoWax0yJibCWZoeLwntXtdm578J6fuxZCJxbHOHfzkeanQqOoL24iO5IRyMRTsilJQSnwQYhLfeHCrliLidrZROAbFVjbseiwh3neE9ufcmrfNMiEIsjuvDq9CtLy/s1600/SA+and+Mumbai+058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9fyw3IhqX0rWFImDoWax0yJibCWZoeLwntXtdm578J6fuxZCJxbHOHfzkeanQqOoL24iO5IRyMRTsilJQSnwQYhLfeHCrliLidrZROAbFVjbseiwh3neE9ufcmrfNMiEIsjuvDq9CtLy/s400/SA+and+Mumbai+058.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Minaret in the center of town.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PMZmKvk2hN8PHOXcPa4-EaqY8h2KTDsPe_2g5_IOJ687tkxdmTAEOD1UKnHf49GkMaCpC4mCR-LlogO67A6sbLS0Z178qbeBA0lQGi7rkUzLWrYVKERAi66Nq91ZSgFUKVfPvuxv8R8g/s1600/SA+and+Mumbai+068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PMZmKvk2hN8PHOXcPa4-EaqY8h2KTDsPe_2g5_IOJ687tkxdmTAEOD1UKnHf49GkMaCpC4mCR-LlogO67A6sbLS0Z178qbeBA0lQGi7rkUzLWrYVKERAi66Nq91ZSgFUKVfPvuxv8R8g/s400/SA+and+Mumbai+068.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Souq (market) guards. Times haven't changed for them.</div><br />
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</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-79862973874200923572011-04-19T19:35:00.000-07:002011-04-19T19:35:37.888-07:00The end of Africa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Saying good-bye to Africa was a lot harder than I imagined. The farther we went south the more I enjoyed myself and by the time South Africa came I really didn't want to leave. There is still much to see but I feel that given the short amount of time we managed to cover a great distance and explore the high-life and the under-belly of the massive continent.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIoTpgnLthPkOa2XS0UkI2qLe6uwRuQio4b7XkloobeGZWRntHfzLLZjYmSapjQFqHz2sW-TRUXZqZaGAN1nag02rOXXp7bU8pkNLkPTtltYCNH7AnpvaLYNEiHL4xxG5EmKyAuJExWv8/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIoTpgnLthPkOa2XS0UkI2qLe6uwRuQio4b7XkloobeGZWRntHfzLLZjYmSapjQFqHz2sW-TRUXZqZaGAN1nag02rOXXp7bU8pkNLkPTtltYCNH7AnpvaLYNEiHL4xxG5EmKyAuJExWv8/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+016.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At Hammerstein Lodge in Namibia. Notice the side of the fence that I'm on.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggj9nQz3ZxwZkrm_l7w7vom5IX5q-O2InJ3p-dUiaiHT5ni405DXlaZOjY73iuKB7vQ6BzOepx5VSlZT0inM7FjuIKRpqrtHqCq56TusDs4z_i1JXHkZACAXZin5AJox4rmtAoiluxPtjy/s1600/Namibia+2+121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggj9nQz3ZxwZkrm_l7w7vom5IX5q-O2InJ3p-dUiaiHT5ni405DXlaZOjY73iuKB7vQ6BzOepx5VSlZT0inM7FjuIKRpqrtHqCq56TusDs4z_i1JXHkZACAXZin5AJox4rmtAoiluxPtjy/s400/Namibia+2+121.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hiking through the mountains of Namibia.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHzrv5sO_yP3vgnkZXp67mvKQ33KxdtIFO-shf0lmiAARVMUKYGduKhtkTEPl3H9fYT5X91J0IEngGxtwmN3Ps-O_ZUnkDlsGYSV554XpKwD7Kjy6-jNQ2XYJBG3N3Dbf1jVOvXE4LL2q/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHzrv5sO_yP3vgnkZXp67mvKQ33KxdtIFO-shf0lmiAARVMUKYGduKhtkTEPl3H9fYT5X91J0IEngGxtwmN3Ps-O_ZUnkDlsGYSV554XpKwD7Kjy6-jNQ2XYJBG3N3Dbf1jVOvXE4LL2q/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+024.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The streets of Bo Kamp, Cape Town, a Malay neighorhood.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUKLD8DF9ui1C7cI9CMv9n8gl8RWijcWhmyn-aPhXiw6KMPqkaRg7UVQo45BzKJW4nbpyfe9EZtxI4M-G99TR5YLJrHuG1SgKnAJeabp4o-QXvMIYzXVxxl6oip8xiKgL_opYzEDQjMCY/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUKLD8DF9ui1C7cI9CMv9n8gl8RWijcWhmyn-aPhXiw6KMPqkaRg7UVQo45BzKJW4nbpyfe9EZtxI4M-G99TR5YLJrHuG1SgKnAJeabp4o-QXvMIYzXVxxl6oip8xiKgL_opYzEDQjMCY/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+087.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The western coast of Cape Town.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgSh0DyYDC2_o5IeTs4J1gWYdbap31HodotW5843ho861xC6PkIdAFntdNzmBcyz5_BxFR6ewK1Pw35tpFrM-XgAxsl-GewEwyq1KGHRqITkf4Ht07wqt525_KzOUIOAjZv_ukU1jXNLv/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgSh0DyYDC2_o5IeTs4J1gWYdbap31HodotW5843ho861xC6PkIdAFntdNzmBcyz5_BxFR6ewK1Pw35tpFrM-XgAxsl-GewEwyq1KGHRqITkf4Ht07wqt525_KzOUIOAjZv_ukU1jXNLv/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+092.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Penguins of Simontown, Cape Town.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqq7e1FfLrHT8RT0-vIXrch6QzX4-523NPGONvLPC3DeOZgjiB9wx_rb67wLl2AQ7imVUnvYkdhlzidn6s7PmfBVf-tQaVhzHKnsqCYJqCaIKVNbJEwY0zXCuR7GPHdbmKENShZ-DEuCOF/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqq7e1FfLrHT8RT0-vIXrch6QzX4-523NPGONvLPC3DeOZgjiB9wx_rb67wLl2AQ7imVUnvYkdhlzidn6s7PmfBVf-tQaVhzHKnsqCYJqCaIKVNbJEwY0zXCuR7GPHdbmKENShZ-DEuCOF/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+143.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you look closely, you can see a little animal the size of a hamster. That is a Dassie, a close relative to an Elephant. Seriously, I'm not lying...look it up. This is on the top of Table Rock, Cape Town.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7iRcvV8Q4xh0IE3Xg80h9bAHS6sXvMeERi618kYelszCvoU3Lp_bb15pbD2RO0McQxI04_tK3hwYm_dTOhNECWLO9t6S-B5e5o2GBgPAj7DGjga-0oaxuhxs2SiaYIslqXlpiwTPUvLt/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7iRcvV8Q4xh0IE3Xg80h9bAHS6sXvMeERi618kYelszCvoU3Lp_bb15pbD2RO0McQxI04_tK3hwYm_dTOhNECWLO9t6S-B5e5o2GBgPAj7DGjga-0oaxuhxs2SiaYIslqXlpiwTPUvLt/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+176.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the boardwalk of Durban, South Africa.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4CQoFN9t6_-7_1rsWFj_lbbTMlto7BZuSUuLC0NQhNfavqVGBnxuApGxuGJ_NNCaIzP6VSkvwbrDx0Vkz1j-ZsYv3fEiLcTrrTsIWfnJ3Fp82r1ozImP71D6qXEU-M4Y9OXIbABfNX4Zr/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4CQoFN9t6_-7_1rsWFj_lbbTMlto7BZuSUuLC0NQhNfavqVGBnxuApGxuGJ_NNCaIzP6VSkvwbrDx0Vkz1j-ZsYv3fEiLcTrrTsIWfnJ3Fp82r1ozImP71D6qXEU-M4Y9OXIbABfNX4Zr/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+184.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Facing my fears at the aquarium in Durbin.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7uuGY_3ecqWtfmRclPOz73g27kxBS0YaeRu54R7oVJb8wDjI5kiTB_M0biCPz8_ItzsZwkQIj2lcpdhJPt4IN-l8Wh5bBDESMhBR8xs3EYaDBL-t6mYDOvVRXD0Zcn-2iE_BtYzPvATq/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7uuGY_3ecqWtfmRclPOz73g27kxBS0YaeRu54R7oVJb8wDjI5kiTB_M0biCPz8_ItzsZwkQIj2lcpdhJPt4IN-l8Wh5bBDESMhBR8xs3EYaDBL-t6mYDOvVRXD0Zcn-2iE_BtYzPvATq/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+191.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The shark attack. Durbin</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLLrsd74VE198IAX2AiH_RRV44BMyoDK998R3wqxDdEmkyChiZptjQchRuKZWxsW1pSaGHa8fpvbZeHohnIUkx-Y-XVN3eTBCsfZqxMHy9sKh5rShfGxLYb-Aa-c8NfSE2hncrAoEOur8/s1600/Namib-SA-Maputo+283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLLrsd74VE198IAX2AiH_RRV44BMyoDK998R3wqxDdEmkyChiZptjQchRuKZWxsW1pSaGHa8fpvbZeHohnIUkx-Y-XVN3eTBCsfZqxMHy9sKh5rShfGxLYb-Aa-c8NfSE2hncrAoEOur8/s400/Namib-SA-Maputo+283.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Waiting for our chicken on the beaches of Maputo, Mozambique. It Was Good!</div></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-88708559562885736072011-04-07T12:11:00.000-07:002011-04-07T12:11:38.459-07:00More photos from NamibiaSitting in comfort at Gabe's (Heath's friend) house in Maputo, Mozambique, I finally have time to throw up some photos to let my dear followers know that, yes, I am still using this thing. I'm also still alive. <br />
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A quick brief of our travels. After Namibia I've tackled Table Mountain in Cape Town, enjoyed a fantastic meal at a rotating restaurant in Durban and finally tried my very first oxtail meal home-cooked to my liking at the home of our gracious hosts, Julian and Frances, where I was treated like royalty. All of this will be properly blogged soon.<br />
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This vacation is actually starting to feel like a vacation. South Africa is well worth the long flight, everyone. A quick thank you very much to my new friends in SA for their stunning hospitality. <br />
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These are some photos from Sossusvlei, Namibia where the sun was hot, the air was dry and I was thirsty. It was spectacular. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGITicjeJorYAWvXtlP-djmIsCrMVIP6ZymlRb7YeJXvALdmaxx1uE13BMcLqfanwD3JLF2T7v9hh2o5e6hrxn27x2HLL4O68C7CZi0W357KQSd1kAohy0BlKjTxDKR5H2fCM3_fl2l3NM/s1600/P1020965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGITicjeJorYAWvXtlP-djmIsCrMVIP6ZymlRb7YeJXvALdmaxx1uE13BMcLqfanwD3JLF2T7v9hh2o5e6hrxn27x2HLL4O68C7CZi0W357KQSd1kAohy0BlKjTxDKR5H2fCM3_fl2l3NM/s400/P1020965.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-40019919815917056852011-03-30T03:26:00.000-07:002011-03-30T03:30:43.814-07:00Why I love Namibia and the poisonous trail.<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Touring around Namibia in a two-wheel drive is not ideal. Especially during the tail end of their rainy season, the rainiest season in 11 years which even brought the Swapkomund River flowing into the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rain ensures extra water sources for wildlife through-out the dry season and brings on new life of high desert plants and the rebirth of trees. </span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The difficult task of maneuvering our car through the land is a small price to pay to experience the overwhelming growth brought on by the ever-needed rains. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Just east of the coastal town of Swapkomund is a small pit stop turned hotel/ bakery/ restaurant called Solitaire. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived there in the early afternoon with intentions of a quick stop to taste the famous Afelstrudel made by the German owner, bringing a little bit of his home to the high desert town. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We were blown away with the landscape and the price of $10 camping so we pitched our tent for the night and enjoyed the 3.8km sunset walking trail just behind the property grounds. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I made the wise decision to switch into my full sneakers, socks and long pants and set out on the trail expecting the worse of harassing bugs. Apart from "bees" (more like flies that take the sweat from your face and use the moisture to make honey) constantly in your face, the only bug visible were huge crickets the size of my hand scrambling around the trail and running quickly away as we approached.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> They looked like massive a<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">rmored-out spiders that ran away too fast for our cameras. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You ask, what was posionous about this trail, Connie. As you will shortly see below, we came upon a weavers nest (a little bird that builds colonies in one giant nest which ever-so delicately hangs on tree branches. They get so large that a third of the tree is swallowed up by them). Dangling in the middle of them was a huge, thick yellow snake which we continued to stare at for sometime.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSTDJ3vnbMwy4Yz7MRtDr_tfXgOAXgpSAhjvAK2I5UhKmzmdCxgaxdVkfN5ydDHSwl_OeiQyXO4jEZBc1guhzid5Uvcp6RbcuLHk0IX715GY1Dv1oRBzxeuWqxotgrcF05k8wJHeJ4MOaK/s1600/Namibia+2+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSTDJ3vnbMwy4Yz7MRtDr_tfXgOAXgpSAhjvAK2I5UhKmzmdCxgaxdVkfN5ydDHSwl_OeiQyXO4jEZBc1guhzid5Uvcp6RbcuLHk0IX715GY1Dv1oRBzxeuWqxotgrcF05k8wJHeJ4MOaK/s400/Namibia+2+023.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was eating its way through the nest and just once poked its little head out to see what all the trouble was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the bees had officially scrubbed my face clean of sweat I decided it was time to walk away from the snake and continue on our way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We, of course, took loads of photos to take back to the staff in hopes that someone would be able to give a name to our new slithering friend. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Further and further we went until a startled shout came from Heath when he almost stepped directly on this cute, little scorpion. This marks my first actual scorpion sighting so I was quite happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little bugger was scrambling around, digging in dirt without the slightest interest in us at all. He would even walk up within a few steps of our feet and happily poised for our camera, loving the limelight.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOKVUVHLwd1Be9N81RDP0dWjiqX5OJvmb6o6LUBIeOPSwK9VGCL3RjfrNo-bcVZ9uiBIAnPcHphU7Yr9U2SU4698GDTaT-_0uYi0pFtPh-VG2zk7lRU_teUfEx8VaCm9cWINV1hPjfxRh/s1600/Namibia+2+060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOKVUVHLwd1Be9N81RDP0dWjiqX5OJvmb6o6LUBIeOPSwK9VGCL3RjfrNo-bcVZ9uiBIAnPcHphU7Yr9U2SU4698GDTaT-_0uYi0pFtPh-VG2zk7lRU_teUfEx8VaCm9cWINV1hPjfxRh/s400/Namibia+2+060.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Happy with our decision to take this walk we headed back and soaked up the moment. The wind was warm and blowing slightly, the air was sweet like honey. A huge cloud hovered over the mountains which only looked threatening but it never made its way over to us. For some reason it was being held on by the mountains which made for a fantastic photo. </span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We headed back with our photos, happy and content. We approached one of the staff members and questioned him about our new friends. A look of shock and horror came over his face, he muttered "what did you see". Look at the photos, I said. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Our happy yellow snake in fact was a Cape Cobra, the deadliest snake in Namibia, with a neurotoxic venom which can kill you 2-5 hours after bitten if not treated. Even then, without immediate artifical respiratory help your chances of survival are 30%.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The cute, little scorpion turns out is a yellow dune scorpion which also has neurotoxic venom. Yikes. To think of how close we were!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8tUZCbafK0QmnBvHbT_qMs0ECg3xwVhSXr1YHdfvG7rsa8h_MCbDKPYG6MKjh5I6Z15D27WDZfQN3VuHghxr529VObPaA3ZRtytj-RWUvpEXZCzUtSWdkcnT6LwdOfErm6WGS9TS3x1PA/s1600/Namibia+2+079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8tUZCbafK0QmnBvHbT_qMs0ECg3xwVhSXr1YHdfvG7rsa8h_MCbDKPYG6MKjh5I6Z15D27WDZfQN3VuHghxr529VObPaA3ZRtytj-RWUvpEXZCzUtSWdkcnT6LwdOfErm6WGS9TS3x1PA/s400/Namibia+2+079.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A dusty old worn-out truck bidding us good-bye as we pull out of Solitaire, leaving our deadly friends behind.</span></div></span>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-9452828976037931862011-03-20T08:31:00.000-07:002011-03-20T13:44:30.519-07:00Deadly Desert<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Solitaire, Namibia</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A giant thunder cloud tears through the sky and crosses south bringing with it massive droplets of warm rain that will more than likely flood our campsite in a few hours. The rainy season in Namibia is still baring her teeth making it the wettest season in several years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dry rivers are now bursting with life causing shock and surprise to all the locals and giving extra swim holes to their dogs. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I enjoy watching the excitement but also fret severely because we rented a measly VW Polo which is already struggling on the dirt and trenched-out roads. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not only painful for the car but also your rear-end trying to maneuver over the “Main-Gravel Roads”, as they call them, with crevasses shaped into a deep V which we manage through sideways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">To top off the fun we came across an empty section of the Aba Huab River which gave us 50 meters of sand to drive through. After some contemplation and a few large rocks removed we nailed it straight on at a barreling speed only to get marooned in the center.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tried to dig our way out getting our entire bodies under the car digging and digging through the hot sand when a 4x4 vehicle came up and happily (easily) pulled us across.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We continued our journey to the next stop of Twyfelfontein, ancient rock carvings now turned national park, and for only $5 you can have a guided tour with a man who ever-so-discreetly compares women to low life forms such as centipedes and talks your ear off about how wonderful Texans are and sometimes puts in a few words about the carvings themselves. What a jerk. Needless to say, I was rather upset when Heath tipped him $10 Namibia dollars. He didn’t hear the centipede comment.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now we were off heading east to Khorixas, opposite the way we came to avoid that darn river, when we hit it<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> again</i> on the other side and this time we weren’t so lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was flowing rain water about 3-4 feet which we wouldn’t dream of crossing and had to double-back stopping at a corner store for a well-deserved Coke. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We aimed to follow a different route, the C39, which meets up with the first route we couldn’t take but, luckily, I asked the shop owner about the road and he said it was completely overflowing. Back to the sandy Aba Huab for us.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We got stuck again. This time a safari truck came along and four guys jumped out of the bed and pushed our car through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why Budget Auto rented us a 2-wheel drive, I don’t know. It’s obvious these roads are not made for them anytime of the year.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We were finally off to Torra Bay, dead center of the Skeleton Coast national park, which was the direction we originally wanted to go anyway. A quick history of Skeleton Coast: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The San call it “The Land God Made in Anger”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> The coast line is</span> hit with the cold Benguela current and has a similar cold feel of the Pacific Northwest. Mix that with sandy dunes and you have a perfect blend of thick fog for the majority of the year. It almost never rains. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boats would get lost in the thick fog and crash onto the shallow, sandy shores only to be faced with miles and miles of desert nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zero survivors. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4NdB4h-itFBO8FUPT7qMorLzSuT3xsq_OF6hasDMyWuk2iR572Gp83kp38o7Smu6rZEv3rA5DAzXRvnCkkh9GRFxqPztt_Axo67VGXx3luVkOlzpKPIjVf_rt_AhPbQZJhyphenhyphenSU_HzMhSnV/s1600/Namibia+248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4NdB4h-itFBO8FUPT7qMorLzSuT3xsq_OF6hasDMyWuk2iR572Gp83kp38o7Smu6rZEv3rA5DAzXRvnCkkh9GRFxqPztt_Axo67VGXx3luVkOlzpKPIjVf_rt_AhPbQZJhyphenhyphenSU_HzMhSnV/s400/Namibia+248.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXvoVuYwUkfQRQAT-2BLaSIZ-yxq9l_KCR-OULm_VvibDPajxe316uPQr4YaqS8j-5fjPMDYvikVyuHqEGwv3wl9a4NCOKfdo4C_61PENDxEW8jkbubzW9ERqoL7gxMNu8avykdJ2skCXi/s1600/P1020914.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXvoVuYwUkfQRQAT-2BLaSIZ-yxq9l_KCR-OULm_VvibDPajxe316uPQr4YaqS8j-5fjPMDYvikVyuHqEGwv3wl9a4NCOKfdo4C_61PENDxEW8jkbubzW9ERqoL7gxMNu8avykdJ2skCXi/s400/P1020914.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have never seen anything like it, not in the movies, not in real life. A land full of nothing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, except for the rusted-out old oil rig, date unknown, which looked straight out of the movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Saw</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then a few miles down a small shabby sign pointed us to the “Ship wreck” which was literally, a ship wreck dated sometime in the early 19<sup>th</sup> century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You get a creepy, spooky feeling standing on that beach knowing that so many lives have been lost there; so many people have been stranded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As neat as it was to see, it wasn’t a place I wanted to hang out in so we jumped back into the car and reached the end of the national park. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgenwT2GoByULngLnQy0P-DB9oefwzjE9M1sz9lflHjQt-stNIyVPLtkl2O7vT51EYLmmFjaG0rjxtZyYqgKNeUvQUXQKCHIJC4I1udqZU65IpQF7G4G35iXdpWjTFJJsIJjxUlVFJmDUUF/s1600/Namibia+268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgenwT2GoByULngLnQy0P-DB9oefwzjE9M1sz9lflHjQt-stNIyVPLtkl2O7vT51EYLmmFjaG0rjxtZyYqgKNeUvQUXQKCHIJC4I1udqZU65IpQF7G4G35iXdpWjTFJJsIJjxUlVFJmDUUF/s400/Namibia+268.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnLBDk_sOWHEo93k9Z7k2cvQ8Jw0ZYKr3NpSMuWTTB90t_mApgu-7l-9yQ5Ku1-MkyUrRdeigHmCKz4KYUz67IsLTbkbpPGgo7X8lsozrhmG_Toje2YVvanlADhYgprU-hnAShvUbOInz/s1600/Namibia+287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnLBDk_sOWHEo93k9Z7k2cvQ8Jw0ZYKr3NpSMuWTTB90t_mApgu-7l-9yQ5Ku1-MkyUrRdeigHmCKz4KYUz67IsLTbkbpPGgo7X8lsozrhmG_Toje2YVvanlADhYgprU-hnAShvUbOInz/s400/Namibia+287.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The end gate.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here are a few more animal photos just to give you something more than nothing too look at:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KXyzFWBOHAetpQZrWNUtGF6bCdG1XSAuJfMaGRbrQcFcy2ywOB8EkelAURgW5mZDwqL0hfWHrz9KYag1x-kdQzRG-6NpyIY5QB6yxXO8PJStra1rl98tZ5y9QDPcuZreYiLd82kXuyhU/s1600/Namibia+071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KXyzFWBOHAetpQZrWNUtGF6bCdG1XSAuJfMaGRbrQcFcy2ywOB8EkelAURgW5mZDwqL0hfWHrz9KYag1x-kdQzRG-6NpyIY5QB6yxXO8PJStra1rl98tZ5y9QDPcuZreYiLd82kXuyhU/s400/Namibia+071.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mr. funny-face elephant at Etosh National Park, Namibia.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIDAQLwkrfmFLweTh302WS_yUKxs47th-omLJZwKoyWMC07V5GR4plJEW0vkgIjj2uqQwcYWFEsnuZzJXKxxJzcXBKZdzzdJooIiB0JU8THtoPH5uyWu71DjTQOpYMRkk5YaleSDNU409/s1600/Namibia+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIDAQLwkrfmFLweTh302WS_yUKxs47th-omLJZwKoyWMC07V5GR4plJEW0vkgIjj2uqQwcYWFEsnuZzJXKxxJzcXBKZdzzdJooIiB0JU8THtoPH5uyWu71DjTQOpYMRkk5YaleSDNU409/s400/Namibia+073.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A wild and crazy Springbok at Etosha National Park, Namibia. Very pretty and also good eatin'.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbdCdt76TbF5Y5Xw4Z6quTqXTMm3WGGzDsBz59BtpIoXBdvlG7vN5CDV9JyFwYUDsXp5n4_4SUatrbnqytyFeufeTTD1cQUpFEZ6hdX24AZzY0xc84UBpTG9-GPXR9tHWJshJtRGjcnIgU/s1600/P1020906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbdCdt76TbF5Y5Xw4Z6quTqXTMm3WGGzDsBz59BtpIoXBdvlG7vN5CDV9JyFwYUDsXp5n4_4SUatrbnqytyFeufeTTD1cQUpFEZ6hdX24AZzY0xc84UBpTG9-GPXR9tHWJshJtRGjcnIgU/s400/P1020906.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A male lizard. I tried to get his name but he wouldn't tell me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-85764987175111748132011-03-13T09:32:00.000-07:002011-03-20T07:46:43.082-07:00I'm finally back.Etosha Safari Camp, Namibia<br />
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Yes, I know, it's been a long time. <br />
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Instead of a long-winded blog describing our adventure from Malawi to Namibia I'll just put up some photos of the journey. I do have to mention the teeny problem we came to at the border of Malawi. I was almost arrested. When we came across the border from Tanzania the immigration officer gave Heath 30 days to travel and me only 7. We stayed for 10. They didn't like that much and said that we would have to travel back to Lilongwe (7 hours) and pay an extra $30 to get an extension and then come all the way back. So, while Heath pleaded and pleaded with them I just stood by because they wouldn't speak to me at all even though it was my passport and not his. We managed to get through and I told myself that was the last time I will ever visit that country...ever.<br />
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So...here are the photos:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1bBbDKhqTPxWIIGQ3AxNZRR-Co02Dyr5dF5WQDQbVyAb9m72cgnpnsUtYTtXqPNTopEtTSn_p_KYoLzz-NvqPeaey2YSO56Vkg7sfWx0tdFQcnlgf3DTc3NaWjlZHjwKLbuu0tOuBqP5/s1600/To+Zambia+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1bBbDKhqTPxWIIGQ3AxNZRR-Co02Dyr5dF5WQDQbVyAb9m72cgnpnsUtYTtXqPNTopEtTSn_p_KYoLzz-NvqPeaey2YSO56Vkg7sfWx0tdFQcnlgf3DTc3NaWjlZHjwKLbuu0tOuBqP5/s400/To+Zambia+021.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Fighting back against Malaria by killing mosquitos in our hotel room Chipata, Zambia.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTkgMXWvoRu3rpE5dcWwtMtUh56Wmk7u5y8e56BdbPl5Dr14M_KxD3brZH_a6fhs3qCoShqvnmCw6h4RsrZYAyPxSlslOLd0nS957rxC0yrrXQO9mXGSMKHC81zu6br_fGf9NdzkntgXC/s1600/P1020834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTkgMXWvoRu3rpE5dcWwtMtUh56Wmk7u5y8e56BdbPl5Dr14M_KxD3brZH_a6fhs3qCoShqvnmCw6h4RsrZYAyPxSlslOLd0nS957rxC0yrrXQO9mXGSMKHC81zu6br_fGf9NdzkntgXC/s400/P1020834.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Victoria Falls, Zamiba</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBjAz8ejIdyxDkM5V8yC7tCwR6oGp53aMqn8PmTT1UIOzKfjEpSMX7CgYEyvaP49GtGV_AuXZ3TvNCZlKQxDZ0Uk2mehL79jF0OQdCs2g-neEXAohgtW8W8nZortRfQKqFEWOPuerbMVH/s1600/P1020845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBjAz8ejIdyxDkM5V8yC7tCwR6oGp53aMqn8PmTT1UIOzKfjEpSMX7CgYEyvaP49GtGV_AuXZ3TvNCZlKQxDZ0Uk2mehL79jF0OQdCs2g-neEXAohgtW8W8nZortRfQKqFEWOPuerbMVH/s400/P1020845.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Baboons at Victoria Falls, Zambia</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcfpLgisVL7HjVIH-d9sBZyxCWvqYJC8wtVdnCfZvctA_aohQEPViwRP7xBJMO0cIPWQL90L45cVWPssop27Cgth4b2OMsCqJI27f4P15QRIgm_CfSIAe4NZwUhBl7UdnDWROMWY_o_2QZ/s1600/P1020850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcfpLgisVL7HjVIH-d9sBZyxCWvqYJC8wtVdnCfZvctA_aohQEPViwRP7xBJMO0cIPWQL90L45cVWPssop27Cgth4b2OMsCqJI27f4P15QRIgm_CfSIAe4NZwUhBl7UdnDWROMWY_o_2QZ/s400/P1020850.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A cute and not-so-friendly little baboon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5WC_lQRDmEWaKzGXNsxm5NP4X76XjW8NDjf60RLEHD-A8ozxu4wZQJ-oe7QE89Fhv-XSo0dfyQ5PVHZVR9UVIDp2cFd5XWdvT3BMv72N-KzvuxGl5TBTEY5bcOA43Uj9m8tVnFNw0T70/s1600/Okavango+122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5WC_lQRDmEWaKzGXNsxm5NP4X76XjW8NDjf60RLEHD-A8ozxu4wZQJ-oe7QE89Fhv-XSo0dfyQ5PVHZVR9UVIDp2cFd5XWdvT3BMv72N-KzvuxGl5TBTEY5bcOA43Uj9m8tVnFNw0T70/s400/Okavango+122.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hanging out at a corner shop just up from our campsite in Maun, Botswana.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhaz2IODRbFApKw2ByIAQWLU3MUQn4reF55Im7Yr8rcZl8MXo3g3uAgs3woyPYD4zeJxkSX4koXv4gbohWq50SMs0DC97VHoTgZUvAAJp6OrQhjX_tgLioeaBClMes6OzWLs-B_8HHa20/s1600/Okavango+137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhaz2IODRbFApKw2ByIAQWLU3MUQn4reF55Im7Yr8rcZl8MXo3g3uAgs3woyPYD4zeJxkSX4koXv4gbohWq50SMs0DC97VHoTgZUvAAJp6OrQhjX_tgLioeaBClMes6OzWLs-B_8HHa20/s400/Okavango+137.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Getting ready for our Mokoro camping trip in Maun, Botswana.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKStI64XS1o9x6Zn2tl6uVi3zru-rlTNZl5dxGDQWmS6OMKscf9tnNjgbweL5bibAkODV6v0FpZY7kMJmf1iDfzkLclyNDmvE06Aroqmwua8JMffJiE9LjAMJGg9LqFv8pdd_0EnjNnrqt/s1600/Okavango+142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKStI64XS1o9x6Zn2tl6uVi3zru-rlTNZl5dxGDQWmS6OMKscf9tnNjgbweL5bibAkODV6v0FpZY7kMJmf1iDfzkLclyNDmvE06Aroqmwua8JMffJiE9LjAMJGg9LqFv8pdd_0EnjNnrqt/s400/Okavango+142.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the Mokoro floating down the Okavango Delta in Botswana.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPC2ZybJd4FphJ-0TIFm-IeienPh_YadKCyrHSCSmmq37c6NzrtDMsnd9B8iWBHq041mrKCyloUE6PqG5bgG14Q0FtH4cx-V-1Rs4SfWij-cbS5w8wxjXZZNJEuxS9A8L850l_fpwYFfin/s1600/P1020860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPC2ZybJd4FphJ-0TIFm-IeienPh_YadKCyrHSCSmmq37c6NzrtDMsnd9B8iWBHq041mrKCyloUE6PqG5bgG14Q0FtH4cx-V-1Rs4SfWij-cbS5w8wxjXZZNJEuxS9A8L850l_fpwYFfin/s400/P1020860.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At the front. Those reeds hurt.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oTMSqhIHqZMzAso_qeg2ltmhTJdaL2EVqTSXweuBOS57Q_TL-nMthf_mFDh579WCMrvGedYgYQx1AFqSd4_HPQmyzd1C8DpAQqB3FaGtAJZh1ttJ0xHcgKy07-ozFnFomiPyq-uq6nYJ/s1600/Okavango+168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oTMSqhIHqZMzAso_qeg2ltmhTJdaL2EVqTSXweuBOS57Q_TL-nMthf_mFDh579WCMrvGedYgYQx1AFqSd4_HPQmyzd1C8DpAQqB3FaGtAJZh1ttJ0xHcgKy07-ozFnFomiPyq-uq6nYJ/s400/Okavango+168.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Our two day campsite on the Delta.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Alright, that's it for now. When I find internet again I'll give you a full update on how we came to beautiful, wonderful Namibia. It's my favorite country thus far. We had to hitch 8 hours to get here with many people, including one fantastic man that gave us a free 3 hour lift from the border to Windhoek, right to the front step of our hostel. Thanks Stephen Lewis from Edo's Camp Safari in Botswana.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Until next time, y'all.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-74118029985515540132011-03-02T07:51:00.000-08:002011-03-02T07:51:04.007-08:00MV Ilala photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAz1p7Sjh0mJL6wAs9IVwVjusNfN3q6c68UK_UHmx11JUDilWigYEfaVWCMxiLLVSiUlNUmB0zZgJMTqblx4ZjpNzy6UPlVYmJwubcyfUx6LZIDnmEwLTV7XrXYA3AYOstNWCCLUdO8gWw/s1600/me+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAz1p7Sjh0mJL6wAs9IVwVjusNfN3q6c68UK_UHmx11JUDilWigYEfaVWCMxiLLVSiUlNUmB0zZgJMTqblx4ZjpNzy6UPlVYmJwubcyfUx6LZIDnmEwLTV7XrXYA3AYOstNWCCLUdO8gWw/s400/me+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center">My one hour of sleep on the boat just under the owner's cabin who came out during the slumber and almost stepped on my head.</div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujVLySOMQAQGWWSftV10WyBAvnGFtclfj6NGMOuXthUpU5IuFSqMCznio6mo5xBcW140ZNf8BjgCyEWdX8KAc91fFOqRQjmDMxxiIHzSOarZW4_m5Usq8trv4658sM32SY2enP5WYVlsG/s1600/me+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujVLySOMQAQGWWSftV10WyBAvnGFtclfj6NGMOuXthUpU5IuFSqMCznio6mo5xBcW140ZNf8BjgCyEWdX8KAc91fFOqRQjmDMxxiIHzSOarZW4_m5Usq8trv4658sM32SY2enP5WYVlsG/s400/me+4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Getting off the boat. Hooray!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2q5ZmrE9zJQPkB4vJ3O5bOqI8lKm2rwv4PJUHq_FSSLzM_VDL_UvnDjq_Ksn0f4UJIIRZOr9Ey5SlORVAyywTGon-_LbTmaOSnoDYh-NeBwbE1olsrZ88rCtA2NDbZIGoRhSCeJGh-iYx/s1600/me+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2q5ZmrE9zJQPkB4vJ3O5bOqI8lKm2rwv4PJUHq_FSSLzM_VDL_UvnDjq_Ksn0f4UJIIRZOr9Ey5SlORVAyywTGon-_LbTmaOSnoDYh-NeBwbE1olsrZ88rCtA2NDbZIGoRhSCeJGh-iYx/s400/me+5.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Finally settled on shore at Monkey bay and learned a new game called Bao taught by our new, patient, local friend. </div><div align="center"></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-47493022851168700922011-02-26T09:33:00.000-08:002011-02-26T09:33:52.305-08:00Bugs, bugs and more bites.Ten mosquito bites on my arms and legs. One big, nasty spider bite on my right arm. A total of ten unidentified bites on my pinky and ring finger on both hands, yes, both hands which made typing near impossible. All of these undeserved bites have come from our journey across Lake Malawi on an old converted-to-diesel steam ship called the MV Ilala which took us from Nkhata Bay to Monkey Bay.<br />
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The boat itself was dreadful but Heath will tell you otherwise. We bought a "first class" ticket which meant that we had the privelege of sleeping on the top deck under the only covered section, the bar. After I had the bartender turn the music off, around midnight, we were hit with sideways rain which soaked us and everything we had and hurried to the second deck which was crowded with other passengers leaving only a small section for standing the rest of the night. No sleep for me. <br />
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The second day (two nights on the boat) I was sick from smelling the diesel fuel and the rotten fish smell from the local fish which they transport from port to port to sell at the markets. All of this and the fight with mosquitos made me wish for home more than ever.<br />
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We did finally dock in Monkey bay and found a cozy little oasis to set up camp. It was truely a perfect spot minus electricity. The following day I was lounging around on the shore when a pack of monkey's and a huge baboon snuck down to steal the last remaining banana a local was chewing on and just happened to leave alone for a minute. They were adorable. The baboon took off and the monkey's stayed behind taunting me from the trees. They would run to the end of a branch and pounce up and down to get my attention. They seemed only interested in me because when Heath came up they took off. Apparently, they don't like boys. One point for me, I guess.<br />
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So, here we are in the capital of Malawi, Lilongwe, at another campsite over-run with Expats and their screaming children. It really feels like we are camping in someone's backyard. Doesn't really fit in to our "African" experience but at least it's cheap and only one night.<br />
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Tomorrow we are off again to hop on another bus to the border of Zambia and then another one to the capital. Eventually we will make it to Victoria Falls. Bring on another long bus ride. As for now, this one dollar 200ml of brandy we bought at the store mixed with pineapple fanta in cups made from a jury-rigged plastic bottle will do the trick. Cheers!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fYxEMx4BBdmRsA2_QFEOOgwnGwAvtiipmaxuaucIS8_jIdvyJkWstyd5rtizbDk9wa8y6ArQuPlK-_4NfsNkg-0mVpxwHt9QbMwBFxPsgxVINBcaGRBK09nJf5S9zwPjk1pzqY4Dxn5i/s1600/Monkey+Bay+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fYxEMx4BBdmRsA2_QFEOOgwnGwAvtiipmaxuaucIS8_jIdvyJkWstyd5rtizbDk9wa8y6ArQuPlK-_4NfsNkg-0mVpxwHt9QbMwBFxPsgxVINBcaGRBK09nJf5S9zwPjk1pzqY4Dxn5i/s400/Monkey+Bay+056.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-71849517365482183162011-02-19T07:14:00.000-08:002011-02-19T07:14:14.083-08:00Tanzania to Mkhata Bay, Malawi<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>KO</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">Three days of traveling brought us to Mkhata Bay in a cute lake-side stone-walled bungalow off the shores of Lake Malawi.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">The traveling was long, irritating, hot and dangerous but cheap. The 16 hour bus ride was actually 20 hours and brought us into Mbeya, Tanzania at one in the morning where we struggled to find an open hotel but managed by yelling through the locked gate of one next to the bus station.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We were off the next morning to Mzuzu, the bordering town of Tanzania and Malawi, and had the unfortunate pleasure of negotiating the price with a tout that one of the hotel staff called that morning informing them that “mzungu’s” (white person) were at the hotel.<span> </span>Tanzanian’s rip off tourists. It’s how they make a living.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">On a side note: I would like to kindly request that from here on out ALL American’s must stop over-tipping/over-paying in foreign/third world countries. 1) it makes it hard for low-budget travelers to get around and 2) it’s like feeding wild birds, you feed them, they don’t leave and stop migrating, hanging around for the steady stream of fat tourist tips and payments.<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Okay, back to the story.<span> </span>After Mbeya we jumped on a tightly-squeezed bus (as usual) and we off to the border town of Mzuzu where, again, we were bombarded by touts wanting to take us here/there or exchange money at really horrible rates. We managed to shoo them off, barely, and crossed the border free-of-charge and without hassle. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Instantly we jumped into a shared taxi and were flying down the streets to our next stop, Karonga, a teeny 45 minute drive only to stop for the oddly frequent police check points. Not only do the taxi drivers have to buy the gas and the vehicle to do business, they must pay-off the police as well and in some cases give them free rides through town. Yes, I know, pretty horrible but at least they have a seat-belt law. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">In Karonga we managed to find the only hotel in Malawi with American prices. They wanted $66 per room per night. It was really hard not to laugh at the receptionist when she quoted us but I managed to kindly ask for another, cheaper, hotel nearby. The Safari Inn was a short stroll and even though the receptionist warned us that the prices would be the same, we arrived with hope and got lucky.<span> </span>We scored a room for about $10 per person and even had hot water!</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Here I am, very excited about my first hot water shower since the trip started, the new receptionist told us to let her know when we wanted it.<span> </span>I suspected they had to turn it on. So, I prepare myself in the bathroom and turn on the faucet, waiting patiently.<span> </span>Heath answered a knock on the door and shouted back to me “your hot water has arrived”.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">In comes an over-sized foot bath full of scalding hot water. Have you ever showered out of a foot bath? I have and it was excellent. I also managed to get a bit of laundry done too.<span> </span>My poor clothes have been cleaned in cold water and what a surprise to find out how much more dirt you can get out with warm. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Karonga to Mzuzu was our plan the next morning. We found a ride in a small bus for about $2.00 and were off on the scariest four hours of my life. The landscape consisted of beautiful, huge mountains and there we were barreling through them going top speed in this mini-van.<span> </span>I nearly died of fright and through the loud wind and creaks of the van Heath said “if we don’t die, I think we’ll get there early”.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Three days of hard traveling and we are here. The largest lake I have ever seen and we are sitting at the shore of it on our private deck just outside our stone bungalow for a whopping cost of $9.00 per night.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I have to finish this up because I must get back to the tailor in the outdoor market with my $6.00 to pick up my hand-made skirt.<span> </span>We wandered down to the market this morning and found that having a skirt made for you is cheaper than buying it already made.What a deal.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">And honestly, there is nothing wrong with avocado/peanut butter sandwiches for lunch when it costs you less than a buck fifty and that includes two beers.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriTbsN1C89YSXg-5xFA2RHdi2pk3Wc-n8bt9zTeAPSsBllhev7yHTYn4jI362T0ElvYu65We8OBE_Y9UFzuWz4h8-8phtkSP_6IgT0tbELpNnsNvjxAp9FsubnZJHGSUwB3ciAAVMowRo/s1600/P1020824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriTbsN1C89YSXg-5xFA2RHdi2pk3Wc-n8bt9zTeAPSsBllhev7yHTYn4jI362T0ElvYu65We8OBE_Y9UFzuWz4h8-8phtkSP_6IgT0tbELpNnsNvjxAp9FsubnZJHGSUwB3ciAAVMowRo/s400/P1020824.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGGqHBXNsnSBe4t1q_Yba2sw4R74ow0iPWncWsv4BRmsQwzDeI5DEksGSF1UhwPXr-Gl00Rqk6rtUE1idbbnqItVvg-lz9a54ciDEU5W-Tt6HibIbVTxXan2DmWQbVFS6iSQJd1WuXurJ/s1600/P1020826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGGqHBXNsnSBe4t1q_Yba2sw4R74ow0iPWncWsv4BRmsQwzDeI5DEksGSF1UhwPXr-Gl00Rqk6rtUE1idbbnqItVvg-lz9a54ciDEU5W-Tt6HibIbVTxXan2DmWQbVFS6iSQJd1WuXurJ/s400/P1020826.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><span> Our view from the Bungalow.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><span><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><span>More photos to come!!!</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-85358908860964450852011-02-15T06:13:00.000-08:002011-02-15T06:13:28.804-08:00The Maasai of Arusha<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We have been here, Snake Park campground, for four nights and can’t seem to find the strength to leave. We’ve met a very friendly Maasai guy with a very contagious laugh named Jonathan. The first day we arrived he gave us a tour of their museum and a brief tour of the education center, behind the park, built by this one British guy, named Max, who lives here in a tent at the park also. That is a separate story which deserves its own blog. We were so impressed by Jonathan that we asked to see his village, which flattered him, so the next day we set out on a 30 minute walk to meet his family, a path that he walks twice a day to and from work. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Walking with Jonathan was pleasant and it wasn’t hard to see how proud he was to have us join him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I used to think of the Maasai people, those couple of times, I imagined just a bunch of people living off the land wearing only dirty red robes but when I looked closely at Jonathan I could see just how intricately he was dressed. Apart from his brilliantly tire-made shoes, he was covered in tiny beads and jewelry which hung around his arms, legs and neck. The bright red robes were loosely wrapped around his waist and over his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost Roman like. He was spotlessly clean and wore a large knife that looped around his beaded belt and carried a stick, in the case of a hyena meeting. Other than Arusha’s progression and expansion, hyenas are the major threat to their land and livestock. Arusha is the nearest city approximately 25 km to Meserani where the snake park is located and where he lives.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He is married to a young, beautiful Maasai woman who is expecting their first child and lives on a compound (called a Boma) with his brother and his three wives and their four children and, finally, their mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They welcomed us whole-heartedly.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jonathan is the only child out of five that went to school past primary. He speaks fluent English, Swahili and Maasai. He is hoping to learn Spanish and Chinese and to study tourism so he can start his own company here in Meserani.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is also the only family member that works since his brother has children and must stay home to herd the cows and sheep. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I asked him how many wives he would like, he laughed and smiled saying that his one is more than enough. It’s a tradition for men to have multiple wives but that’s not how he sees it. He wants only a couple of children which he can put through school and carry on the tradition of their people. Recognizing that their old traditions are becoming impossible he has learned to adapt and will past that on to his children. One of the major traditions that are now illegal in Tanzania is female circumcision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a depiction of it in the museum we toured and even Jonathan shuttered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The males still get circumcised at age 18.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a stage which they must pass to become men and able to marry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said that if the boy cries during the surgery then he is shamed for life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he doesn’t, he gets to wear a head piece made out of feathers and have his face painted for the party afterwards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I’m not entirely sure what Jonathan meant by “but don’t worry, we make sure to train ourselves how not to cry” but I probably don’t want to know anyway. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jonathan invited Heath and I back anytime we come to Tanzania again. We can pitch our tent under one of the newly planted shade trees and live like Maasai’s for a while.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Walking away from this experience is a happy me with a handmade beaded necklace and a killer recipe for honey beer, the traditional Maasai drink for only elders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will invite you all over for my first batch when I get back to Portland. It’s made from honey, obviously, and aloe vera roots.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If Heath and I do return for a visit I can always send Jonathan an email.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s got an email address. And a cell</span><a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">phone.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge14VINsKLnAuC6TXrt19PEyf8FCHztePDKH40gMWFB7KYNKZjuY-iShXVD4nnguIaF9cEjem9q-l_jdMBsOFuBcPStlNCfCY7Kxh6yjLo_vg3j_AmX7R2kKGKny35mWXhzcRUu8gJGweq/s1600/Outside+Arusha+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge14VINsKLnAuC6TXrt19PEyf8FCHztePDKH40gMWFB7KYNKZjuY-iShXVD4nnguIaF9cEjem9q-l_jdMBsOFuBcPStlNCfCY7Kxh6yjLo_vg3j_AmX7R2kKGKny35mWXhzcRUu8gJGweq/s400/Outside+Arusha+046.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WLSgMC3CvUOBdx7l2GA4iIVtaKi4UCfH012N2LD3kQ_bpqouQNaBqP8r8PQDvKYF1QqQmEjszJQwjt5j3YYk5X26ffElKXPsIHBlgcBjHiC8Ty92hxSkhIoaG2RNtszUuDtxMyPO5Smx/s1600/Outside+Arusha+049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WLSgMC3CvUOBdx7l2GA4iIVtaKi4UCfH012N2LD3kQ_bpqouQNaBqP8r8PQDvKYF1QqQmEjszJQwjt5j3YYk5X26ffElKXPsIHBlgcBjHiC8Ty92hxSkhIoaG2RNtszUuDtxMyPO5Smx/s400/Outside+Arusha+049.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWs73z1mW42IEdPfPo90jRA0M6w7nDUqzhTc1d5WVoDgwpOp0MLvlDLpvbgkamSxBMucyRg6d3UEM0gfgF3cFcPhO4pyiohnkaU_HH_54S7ptBhUCjkyLAKgjW5rdzVRQ4Bx10gX78gccO/s1600/Outside+Arusha+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWs73z1mW42IEdPfPo90jRA0M6w7nDUqzhTc1d5WVoDgwpOp0MLvlDLpvbgkamSxBMucyRg6d3UEM0gfgF3cFcPhO4pyiohnkaU_HH_54S7ptBhUCjkyLAKgjW5rdzVRQ4Bx10gX78gccO/s400/Outside+Arusha+064.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-70435705788880431072011-02-14T04:22:00.000-08:002011-02-14T04:22:00.013-08:00More photos and the end of Tanzania (for now).<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidf-x6R7Kb_NNucaBqXmmDe8GI-Voj38PZ01vUgRL_f04MshzH6F7ApMLoNCSQBESUFsdAxhXXWPzmOhz7B72Hh1UA-1exlKydfqG3HkIF49IX1NVSXMQXyowc9BRJabyX_fRrsEpD23KN/s1600/P1020729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidf-x6R7Kb_NNucaBqXmmDe8GI-Voj38PZ01vUgRL_f04MshzH6F7ApMLoNCSQBESUFsdAxhXXWPzmOhz7B72Hh1UA-1exlKydfqG3HkIF49IX1NVSXMQXyowc9BRJabyX_fRrsEpD23KN/s400/P1020729.JPG" width="400" /> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The street of Stone town and me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyAfw36SeS2PlBOyGuv5e8VA5PfpBV5dAv6kDBnRmvzDSi6Rw8xbs6ZMMVQTjTQ1k7c9EkdeTunr8nm9Px3lpz91RURlkwPVQ_9WG138mzrAD6Ub6K_INvmQOzNaKELMSu2zYIMUOnFdkv/s1600/P1020736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyAfw36SeS2PlBOyGuv5e8VA5PfpBV5dAv6kDBnRmvzDSi6Rw8xbs6ZMMVQTjTQ1k7c9EkdeTunr8nm9Px3lpz91RURlkwPVQ_9WG138mzrAD6Ub6K_INvmQOzNaKELMSu2zYIMUOnFdkv/s400/P1020736.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Trading candies.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdjAQixMvgon07BV63zg0fnbvnVczPJZVY8a-Y2hMA7R_Sc82jkXtQv9ljgptJwrVRv4JZDfDewEyrAPjVrQOCbJsyCRhBuH30xzbKysS3OqtxOrmsQfmL4Owwz4XIVmIdcq3HIf8sBiS/s1600/P1020750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdjAQixMvgon07BV63zg0fnbvnVczPJZVY8a-Y2hMA7R_Sc82jkXtQv9ljgptJwrVRv4JZDfDewEyrAPjVrQOCbJsyCRhBuH30xzbKysS3OqtxOrmsQfmL4Owwz4XIVmIdcq3HIf8sBiS/s400/P1020750.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite photos. This is just off the coast of Stone Town, Zanzibar. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYcyTcQAHzFVkuGfqwU6yVQGPSUu7QgEQ0O-1Oku5eo8dA2D5FUXBeGHL83pH6iEWF37M-pjShCQ5GLvhSpAi1EzIqdzi5xIZDlZPyKOhoW5wZECI_fdjiphHVIsEATCAsSLmKLPPLdy9/s1600/P1020817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYcyTcQAHzFVkuGfqwU6yVQGPSUu7QgEQ0O-1Oku5eo8dA2D5FUXBeGHL83pH6iEWF37M-pjShCQ5GLvhSpAi1EzIqdzi5xIZDlZPyKOhoW5wZECI_fdjiphHVIsEATCAsSLmKLPPLdy9/s400/P1020817.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">These children greeted us after our spice tour. Sure, they are dirty and live in poverty but their overwhelming friendliness covers all that up. They are the sweetest children I have ever met. Just happy to be alive and get an occasional lolly pop. I don't recommend giving them candy though as it rots their already rotten teeth. Pens work better and they are just as excited to get those.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Arusha, Tanzania</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">I don't know what day it is. The clock on this computer in a run-down internet cafe 15k's from our campsite says 3:14. I'm 60% sure that is the right time. We are staying at a snake park with about 15 different types of poisonous snakes. The start of the Serengeti is about 30k's away from us. They want to charge us $410 for a three-day tour, nothing shorter, nothing less expensive. So, the wildlife at the snake park is all we'll see. I'm okay with that though because it really is an oasis outside the chaos of Arusha. Plus, they have 62 species of birds. Ha! beat that stupid migration. Okay, fine, you can tell I'm pretty upset about missing out of the migration of the Serengeti. Bureaucratic bastards!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">This will be short for now as I have 15 minutes left on my computer time. We are leaving tomorrow morning, 6am sharp, for a 16 hour bus ride to Mbeya which is the border town of Tanzania and Malawi. It will be a long and exhausting adventure which I'll report on once we can track down internet again.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wish me luck for the bus ride...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"> (HI DAD!) </span></div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-66489509763401806642011-02-11T05:14:00.000-08:002011-02-11T05:16:50.640-08:00More photos from Tanzania and more on the way.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ysRIGJHfADjgGDj_7IGGt6ljazMsUud9uHwO92Qt0ZkBDWT7F9pNpzpmdx1cL6JjQ_uUyM_XdsdJ-d-4vbyhZdU46M9k_MKv2o4yB9qLXu9wwVaKunsl53PCYs2p3HppkJAiwCr_fm2A/s1600/To+Arusha+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ysRIGJHfADjgGDj_7IGGt6ljazMsUud9uHwO92Qt0ZkBDWT7F9pNpzpmdx1cL6JjQ_uUyM_XdsdJ-d-4vbyhZdU46M9k_MKv2o4yB9qLXu9wwVaKunsl53PCYs2p3HppkJAiwCr_fm2A/s400/To+Arusha+006.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Getting a watch on the spice tour in Zanzibar. What time is it? It's spice time (quoted directly from him, of course). </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPNGG_AsAsxYwslInRe9KGRVl5dCqC-tKKC1x8siu4SMr91wtgcfB9L41DF-hpMQfq2kZ_MtMHNz4Qm3PuWJfnGnhBaB1wzejP0hnqHy5r6_Pc5yYeVhAWjrSI8gHzUa8bPOWlAeSh5NxT/s1600/To+Arusha+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPNGG_AsAsxYwslInRe9KGRVl5dCqC-tKKC1x8siu4SMr91wtgcfB9L41DF-hpMQfq2kZ_MtMHNz4Qm3PuWJfnGnhBaB1wzejP0hnqHy5r6_Pc5yYeVhAWjrSI8gHzUa8bPOWlAeSh5NxT/s400/To+Arusha+019.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Sitting down for a meal on the spice tour with a fellow tourist from Rwanda. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZW4uyFzofbdoz4pkDTPe1-NEK_TzHOsF7SKBnfxcIGYNreSV4oIL-Xu8y0WK6qwhSKMRAoE87m3-6lA1hPCxTqS30GBD-9yqoEiXQbuAgZFplU2wqOVhYrXxsDkCNgCEO2QJlspOnLFs/s1600/To+Arusha+032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZW4uyFzofbdoz4pkDTPe1-NEK_TzHOsF7SKBnfxcIGYNreSV4oIL-Xu8y0WK6qwhSKMRAoE87m3-6lA1hPCxTqS30GBD-9yqoEiXQbuAgZFplU2wqOVhYrXxsDkCNgCEO2QJlspOnLFs/s400/To+Arusha+032.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> A village on the way to Arusha from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Most people see poverty, I see beauty. </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Happened upon dancers practicing at our campsite in Arusha. The guy on the right is part of the Tanzanian dance team which won third place in a international competition. USA was second, Philippines first. </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Holding a snake at the snake park in Meserani, Tanzania. We are camping here for a couple of days to rejuvenate. The snake park is surrounded by Masai villages which we got to tour. More pictures of that to come. </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">We visited an education center just behind the snake park. These children are learning numbers 1-7 by counting rocks. They are so friendly and greet us over and over again with "hello, hello". </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-50374667796576349072011-02-08T03:38:00.000-08:002011-02-08T03:38:55.210-08:00Zanzibar Paradise<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the end of the world, sitting in probably the only air-conditioned café in Stone Town drinking a frothy strawberry milkshake, I’m going over the notes taken during our island experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This café has an all too familiar feeling as the waitress turns on the greatest hits of Kenny Rogers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s pretty distracting and hard to write because all I want to do is start singing with “Lucille” knowing that I’ll be the only one who knows the words. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Where to start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, after a horrible experience waiting at the ferry dock for the boat, we managed to find two available seats, buy a small bag of cashews from a boy selling them on the boat and tucked in to a pretty sweet boat ride to Zanzibar. We struck up a conversation with a fellow next to us who agreed to take us to the dalla dalla bus station when we dock. I’m sure glad we found that guy because once off the ferry we were immediately surrounded by shouting touts. Our guide gave us the block we needed just by saying in Swahili “they are with me”. Shock sets in following this guy through the streets of Stone Town. It’s just chaos. Everywhere. It’s the main market place for all the locals and even though Heath and I stood out worse than sore thumbs we were welcomed into that chaos with friendly faces. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After negotiating with a couple of taxi drivers that promised us the dalla dalla to Paje (where our hotel is located, on the eastern side of the island) wasn’t coming until that evening and we would be stuck in the hot sun for hours waiting on it. Fifteen minutes later our infamous dalla dalla arrived offering a ride for half the cost. I kind of felt bad for the taxi driver. Sure, he lied to us and we almost fell for it but, hey, a man’s gotta make a living, right? </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The game with the dalla dalla ride is to see how small you can make yourself and hold that position for as long as you can. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pay no attention to the fellow passengers practically sitting in your lap while you breathe in their sweat. You just get used to it, honestly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A dalla dalla is a converted truck turned open-window van that the Tanzanian’s used for a public bus. Locals jump on and off even when it’s still in motion. A hell of a good laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made our way to Teddy’s Place in Paje. For $1.50 you couldn’t get a better, more entertaining ride. Once the stares stop you really do end up feeling like a local. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One hour and five minutes later (you count, trust me) was a welcome surprise. Thatch huts encloses a tropical paradise where mellow souls greet you with a yummy Safari beer and a smile. Why, yes, we would love to see our hut (room) and throw these bags down and come with you for a tour of the grounds. Teddy’s Place. Look it up. Go there.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think that I match the beach more than anyone. The sand is whiter than me! We spent the remaining day swimming in the amazing Indian Ocean, eating octopus coconut curry for dinner and letting the sea breeze cool us down after that long, insane day.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Okay, fine, so I still didn’t sleep that well seeing as how I was trapped under a mosquito net which made me paranoid about the little flying malaria-infested vampires trying their hardest to get at you. Eventually I did pass out though a managed a few hours.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We couldn’t muster up the strength for any tours and busied ourselves playing in the ocean pretty much all the next day. The ocean receded about a mile out which left pools of soft squishy sand and home-made seaweed traps set out by local women who make beauty products with it. It was quite the contrast to the kite surfers flying out just pass them. It is kite surfing heaven, by the way. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another night of interrupted sleep waited for us when we were woken by a very loud “BOOM” and the smell of fire. Heath ran out of the hut to see what happened (me, I’m a chicken) and came back with nothing. Good luck sleeping after that.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not to stress, though. Apparently, after chatting with the receptionist the next morning, it was just a palm tree that had fallen and somehow caught on fire. It was just passed the entrance of the hotel which is why Heath didn’t see anything. I really thought we were under attack and only managed about an hour sleep. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another great breakfast of buttery pancakes with honey and chocolate syrup and we were off back to the dalla dalla stand to catch a ride back to Stone Town. School’s out time and the majority of the ride consisted of Muslim girls with their math books and curious eyes. They were adorable and I didn’t mind all the stares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We traveled across the countryside and witness life as they know it. Cows and dirt and mud huts lined the roads and the occasional fruit stand selling what I expected was mango and some other strange fruit that is the size and shape of a potato but a very light green color. You see children everywhere with it in hand. </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two short nights at our tropical paradise, a place which I most definitely will return to, and that’s all the beach we’ll see until Namibia. One more night in Stone Town, once home to the world’s largest slave market, to look forward to which as you well know now makes awesome strawberry milkshakes and has excellent taste in music.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-49837286357854400822011-02-07T06:46:00.000-08:002011-02-07T06:46:53.100-08:00Photos so far...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujqEnw1QVYLjTThROU18Fr_7RZQkDFCEx3BQn_E2YjBBXeV60c7rWlKFpz7nOpIbnL2S2vsCLzsTIcyf-XevpZ-5oP6DpnrGQdfymYJwjKJSo2nMb5FsUWVtsVVDlSAt8SsChUu7OQ9mS/s1600/Tanzania+1+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujqEnw1QVYLjTThROU18Fr_7RZQkDFCEx3BQn_E2YjBBXeV60c7rWlKFpz7nOpIbnL2S2vsCLzsTIcyf-XevpZ-5oP6DpnrGQdfymYJwjKJSo2nMb5FsUWVtsVVDlSAt8SsChUu7OQ9mS/s400/Tanzania+1+012.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On our way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaz9-ktMmvPuHj_lSNAJpZKRUqOcN7X99XFWDvKEZ_7w6j2heu5EqO1RvA4kQ2NUmCTXDNyGKYMZnAhd1tsQ2EziMOsPvQtsQwylU5fOf37BRdxfNcJ7z76bJagyahQstXI4Wl6C3LMaDI/s1600/Tanzania+1+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaz9-ktMmvPuHj_lSNAJpZKRUqOcN7X99XFWDvKEZ_7w6j2heu5EqO1RvA4kQ2NUmCTXDNyGKYMZnAhd1tsQ2EziMOsPvQtsQwylU5fOf37BRdxfNcJ7z76bJagyahQstXI4Wl6C3LMaDI/s400/Tanzania+1+015.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tanzania Airport.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgow3tDBZ0LeEEFCgK043-NOD5W_CPkgGddh4sBer4D44dNuevR-DZ9l6FsS0uRTnAfBUSFg_h_plC639q6xDjtL_eIwkoBQfKe3QeM4fITb5Bqh-luFamJwMqzIs1QWMcbsC9oBXqixPUy/s1600/Tanzania+1+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgow3tDBZ0LeEEFCgK043-NOD5W_CPkgGddh4sBer4D44dNuevR-DZ9l6FsS0uRTnAfBUSFg_h_plC639q6xDjtL_eIwkoBQfKe3QeM4fITb5Bqh-luFamJwMqzIs1QWMcbsC9oBXqixPUy/s400/Tanzania+1+025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Don't let the wood accents fool you. This room was miserable.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwvY9qTTnEb_rHsZlh0V8PErsLVE1DCW7bwHPl1iSNTqXKFfB1m2IlmrTOaRcNao10VRXmOqZbn94JYAlQQYD8hXnwj9Rt5oyqq13tp85B0Yr1zr1tLf75Y1I2BxZW7TvoyKhKRGbAMuz/s1600/Tanzania+1+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwvY9qTTnEb_rHsZlh0V8PErsLVE1DCW7bwHPl1iSNTqXKFfB1m2IlmrTOaRcNao10VRXmOqZbn94JYAlQQYD8hXnwj9Rt5oyqq13tp85B0Yr1zr1tLf75Y1I2BxZW7TvoyKhKRGbAMuz/s400/Tanzania+1+021.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sick Connie at the BBQ chicken cafe. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnXC0qBmclT26f7Yjb2e3JeM3C-UbWK1wdeW96s8l9fHph6XXqlpZPurX3KGKjIObagIy1wJJt6VzyjMnkhzd7SlKqG1QQS_z14N3k_JdBwSwsqcZa5sQyvAHiA3tQLJR9wCIGEkvVJ89/s1600/Tanzania+1+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnXC0qBmclT26f7Yjb2e3JeM3C-UbWK1wdeW96s8l9fHph6XXqlpZPurX3KGKjIObagIy1wJJt6VzyjMnkhzd7SlKqG1QQS_z14N3k_JdBwSwsqcZa5sQyvAHiA3tQLJR9wCIGEkvVJ89/s400/Tanzania+1+037.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">View from the boat to Zanzibar. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEHqzYUpxSyUG9-kMJwm3N7sPINQt_iu6yIaPaoE-9juxqDlCG-78HNZzNrpAmuUR-lcnAnRKeXv-WXdb3clJuzAC03xdhUW44ZibUsSSFhj2C36yS_OiJe-4sSLX17G8rbs-wCid7hJm/s1600/Teddy%2527s+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEHqzYUpxSyUG9-kMJwm3N7sPINQt_iu6yIaPaoE-9juxqDlCG-78HNZzNrpAmuUR-lcnAnRKeXv-WXdb3clJuzAC03xdhUW44ZibUsSSFhj2C36yS_OiJe-4sSLX17G8rbs-wCid7hJm/s400/Teddy%2527s+002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And finally a picture worth looking at. The beautiful Zanzibar.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">More photos to come. I can only upload so many at once as it takes a very long time.</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-19629654422583021612011-02-06T04:49:00.001-08:002011-02-06T04:49:18.244-08:00Hot and Sweaty<div class="MsoNoSpacing">Dar es Salaam</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">All it took was a second standing in line waiting for our Tanzanian visa’s to realize just how white I am. Even my sweat soaked shirt didn’t darken my color any. It took almost a half hour to get through and make our way to the currency exchange where we learned our biggest, unavoidable mistake. $100 US dollar bills older than 2000 will not be accepted. Luckily, I had only four out of the ten I brought for the first part of the trip. The man that looked way too tired for his age at the currency exchange promised, however, that they would be accepted downtown which didn’t given me much courage for the place we were headed.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">The taxi driver took us to our hotel which welcomed us with an electrical outage. Honestly, though, it wouldn’t have made any difference to me since it was ungodly hot and there was no way I could possible heat up the room any further with the glow of a light bulb. Apparently, the city’s electricity stops for up to three hours per day. Most people have generators but for the rest that can’t afford it (a lot) they must resort to wood or coal burning for cooking which accented the already horrible smell of the streets. Actually, the wood burning was the only good smell. I won't describe the rest.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">After getting into the room, we remembered to take our malaria pill. Thinking that I still felt full from the airport meal I popped the pill and within minutes felt sick and the heat of the room brought me to a full naked sprawl on the bed with hopes of not puking. With Heath’s encouragement I realized that food was the cure and peeled myself off the bed to hit the café just below the hotel. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Not expecting much at the run-down street café guarded by decorated metal bars and painted murals covering all the walls (including the ceiling), we sat down and had the best barbeque chicken I had ever had. This might be one of the poorest countries but, by god, they can cook. The chicken was soaked in a saffron sauce coating it in a brilliant red then rub down with rich spices and chucked on the grill. In a matter of minutes the chicken was devoured and then I remembered to take the photo (oops). </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Another lesson learned is that when walking down the crowded car-, women-, children-, poor-, dirt-, cart- and bicycle-infested streets that it’s always best to be accompanied with a resourceful fellow Tanzanian. Walking down to the beach we ran into an employee of our hotel who kindly took us to the boat ferries to purchase our tickets for the following day to Zanzibar. While we missed out on the slow, cheaper ferry due to a mysterious problem (“boat broken”), we had to break down ourselves and buy the more expensive one for $35 US dollars. There is a long story involved with that which I don’t have the energy to relive but it pretty much sums up with Heath and I disagreeing with the helpfulness of the people selling the tickets, cramped inside a tiny office while the ticket master kept yelling at some guy poking his head in the tiny cut-out hole in the glass and our guide whose poor translation said that there was some sort of knife involved. Nonetheless, we did not feel comfortable and with the tickets in hand we got out of there as fast as our feet could carry us. Lesson: have an escorted. Always.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We did not sleep at all that night in our tiny, overheated room. The next morning we packed our 30lb bags and headed to the ferry. In 91 degree weather carrying those bags I really thought I would pass out by the time we made it to the ferry docks. The boat arrives and everyone jumped up into a crowded bunch to get on. I have never been touched and pushed and shoved by so many people as once. I held my ground only to look up and see the coming passengers leaving the boat and were followed by men carrying tvs, furniture and a coffin. Yes, a coffin. I have to think positively now because I can’t turn around. Everything will be fine. Just get me to our hotel and out of this mess. Luckily, the end result was more than worth it….</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Photos are not uploading. Sorry folks. When I find a better connection I'll put them up.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-52625199855955543522011-02-06T04:48:00.000-08:002011-02-06T04:48:40.809-08:00<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">Dar es Salaam</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">All it took was a second standing in line waiting for our Tanzanian visa’s to realize just how white I am. Even my sweat soaked shirt didn’t darken my color any. It took almost a half hour to get through and make our way to the currency exchange where we learned our biggest, unavoidable mistake. $100 US dollar bills older than 2000 will not be accepted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, I had only four out of the ten I brought for the first part of the trip. The man that looked way too tired for his age at the currency exchange promised, however, that they would be accepted downtown which didn’t given me much courage for the place we were headed.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"> </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">The taxi driver took us to our hotel which welcomed us with an electrical outage. Honestly, though, it wouldn’t have made any difference to me since it was ungodly hot and there was no way I could possible heat up the room any further with the glow of a light bulb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, the city’s electricity stops for up to three hours per day. Most people have generators but for the rest that can’t afford it (a lot) they must resort to wood or coal burning for cooking which accented the already horrible smell of the streets. Actually, the wood burning was the only good smell. I won't describe the rest.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">After getting into the room, we remembered to take our malaria pill. Thinking that I still felt full from the airport meal I popped the pill and within minutes felt sick and the heat of the room brought me to a full naked sprawl on the bed with hopes of not puking. With Heath’s encouragement I realized that food was the cure and peeled myself off the bed to hit the café just below the hotel. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Not expecting much at the run-down street café guarded by decorated metal bars and painted murals covering all the walls (including the ceiling), we sat down and had the best barbeque chicken I had ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This might be one of the poorest countries but, by god, they can cook. The chicken was soaked in a saffron sauce coating it in a brilliant red then rub down with rich spices and chucked on the grill. In a matter of minutes the chicken was devoured and then I remembered to take the photo (oops). </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Another lesson learned is that when walking down the crowded car-, women-, children-, poor-, dirt-, cart- and bicycle-infested streets that it’s always best to be accompanied with a resourceful fellow Tanzanian. Walking down to the beach we ran into an employee of our hotel who kindly took us to the boat ferries to purchase our tickets for the following day to Zanzibar. While we missed out on the slow, cheaper ferry due to a mysterious problem (“boat broken”), we had to break down ourselves and buy the more expensive one for $35 US dollars. There is a long story involved with that which I don’t have the energy to relive but it pretty much sums up with Heath and I disagreeing with the helpfulness of the people selling the tickets, cramped inside a tiny office while the ticket master kept yelling at some guy poking his head in the tiny cut-out hole in the glass and our guide whose poor translation said that there was some sort of knife involved. Nonetheless, we did not feel comfortable and with the tickets in hand we got out of there as fast as our feet could carry us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lesson: have an escorted. Always.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We did not sleep at all that night in our tiny, overheated room. The next morning we packed our 30lb bags and headed to the ferry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 91 degree weather carrying those bags I really thought I would pass out by the time we made it to the ferry docks. The boat arrives and everyone jumped up into a crowded bunch to get on. I have never been touched and pushed and shoved by so many people as once. I held my ground only to look up and see the coming passengers leaving the boat and were followed by men carrying tvs, furniture and a coffin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, a coffin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to think positively now because I can’t turn around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything will be fine. Just get me to our hotel and out of this mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, the end result was more than worth it….</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Photos are not uploading. Sorry folks. When I find a better connection I'll put them up.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment--> <br />
<!--EndFragment-->Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-70655363509319180302011-01-19T10:37:00.000-08:002011-01-19T10:37:11.639-08:00Track 19I feel it. Independence is coming.<br />
<br />
As I walk, Indian visa in hand, through the Frankfurt main train station to track number 19 I feel it. It took two exhausting weeks to get this expensive visa, an obstacle I didn't think I would tackle. Note to self: make sure when filling out visa applications to omit any affiliation with a newspaper, where I've worked for the past three years.<br />
<br />
It won't be this difficult for any other visa I apply for on this trip as I'll soon be unemployed (one week and counting). Apparently, most countries would rather have the unemployed visit over the press. On top of that, the department of "newspaper advertising", which I work in, didn't really translate.<br />
<br />
Here I am walking through the train station meeting Heath at track number 19 when that realization kicks in. I watch all the vacant faces of people walk past and a feeling of calm takes over. A calm that is new and foreign. The stress of organizing and planning is only days away from being gone and the realization of independence has just started and is getting stronger.Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303029189098225662.post-62226696528016980492011-01-14T07:10:00.001-08:002011-01-14T07:24:20.834-08:00I will miss you Deutschland.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">14 January 2011</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Ten vaccinations completed. A two month unhingement of the Christmas season brought on by needles, snot-tasting drinks and downright pain.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">An entire household, six years in the making, squeezed into 10 boxes and securely (gulp!) wrapped ready for its journey back to Portland where my ever-so-helpful Sister, Nikki, has agreed to store. I relived those last six years packing those boxes. Every trip, every friend, every chapter now all tucked away only to be seen again in six months. Goodbye for now old friends. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span> </span>Six months of planning and three weeks left to go. Am I ready? I better be because the journey starts soon and there’s no turning back now. <span> </span>The challenge has been accepted and a defeat is definite. <span> </span>A defeat, of course, that will probably be dispersed mostly on me but I vow now that no matter how hot, how exhausted, how annoyed or how just downright pissed-off I’ll be this is an adventure that I chose to do, that I gave up my entire life for. This will work and I’ve never been so excited to say that yes, yes I am spending the next six months in Africa, India, Nepal and SE Asia. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I’ve retired early, folks. </div>Conniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09558188679456491393noreply@blogger.com2