The End

Wake up, pack everything, get on the bus. 

The bus went over the Kenyan border.  I tried to take in the last bits of scenery, fully aware by this time that I couldn't really process what was happening anymore. 

The bus went into Nairobi and straight to the airport.  I couldn't check in early and access the terminal, because my airline only has one flight per day, so I sat at an outdoor cafe.  For 12 hours.  And not some quaint outdoor cafe, some dirty, crappy Kenyan airport cafe.  Eventually, check in, make my way to the gate, and onto the plane.  The total travel time, from Arusha to the US, would be 40 hours.   This part was halfway through, and marked the end of my trip to Africa.

Immediately after the plane took off, I fell asleep.

Kwa heri, Tanzania

If there's anything left to do, now's the time to do it.  Did my laundry- by washing it in a bucket and hanging it out to dry.  Saw some live music at a French-owned expat restaurant, and made dinner for the Belgian neighbors.  Met Shannon for Indian food at some swanky hotel.

The rains came in Monday night.

A Final Adventure

Hop on the bus out towards Moshi, hop off in some random village along the roadside.  A taxi takes us off-road, about an hour south, through the Tanzanian bush.  Baobob trees and mud hut villages line the path.  At the end, we emerge at a little oasis, the Maji Moto hot springs.  We went swimming in blue, fresh water at just the right temperature.  You could jump in from tree branches or a "George of the Jungle" swing.  It was an amazing place, moreso because it's not in guidebooks or on tourist maps- you need to spend time with locals and expats to know it's there.

73: Friday in Arusha

Dalla dalla into town, head to the internet cafe.  An email tells me I've been offered the position of law clerk for the Senate Judiciary Committee, a wonderful and vaguely surreal piece of news.  I'll start the first Monday back in the US, the week I hear about the bar results. 

So it's a good morning.

Most of the rest of the day was spent arguing with Masai craft shop owners about the prices for carved wooden animals.  I bought my sister a warthog, because she loves both Pumba and bacon. 

Another day, another dalla

So I've fallen into a routine in Arusha.  It mostly involves a lot of internet cafe and regular cafe.  And lots of walking. 

It all seems so regular.  Until I think about it.  I start off by heading into town on the local minibus, comically overcrowded deathtraps known as dalla dallas (don't worry parents, I've already had my last dalla ride).  I hop off at the turn for the UN International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, which I walk past.  I'll pass women in traditional kange cloth, balancing baskets on their heads.  Similarly dressed women sit on the sidewalk, selling veggies and tropical fruits from wicker baskets, while red toga-clad Masai warriors check their facebook accounts in the internet cafe.  Safari 4x4s head up and down the street, for Kili, the Serengeti, wherever. 

Evenings are usually spent back at the apartment building, where interns, teachers, and volunteers from Belgium, England, Ireland, Zambia etc sit around the table, cooking dinner on portable gas stoves. 

71

I had planned on going to the market, but apparently there was some light rioting.  So I stayed in safe parts of town.

A Tanzanian lawyer and judge got me drunk.  They kept ordering beer in Swahili and then I had no choice.  Normally I'd keep my blog a little more professional, but hey- it was a lawyer and a judge.  Also, the lawyer definitely handed the judge a stack of cash...

I also lost Shannon's keys.  She wanted to kill me. 

Arusha once again

Wake up, pack everything, head to Arusha.  Saw "Planet of the Apes" with Shannon and Seepan, which we defined to be "gorilla tracking." 

Back to Moshi pt 2

Getting back to Moshi from the Pare Mountains, I settled in with a group of locals/expats/foreign students.  One of the Americans in this group had been working and living in Tanzania for nearly 5 years.  I mentioned something about Netflix, and she responds "I don't like watching movies on the computer, I prefer to just rent them from the video store."

I had to break it to her.  But things change when you're gone, and I'm sure a few surprises await me.

Back to Moshi

A lot of Tanzanians pretend to speak english, when really they're just saying "yes" and "no" at random.  It's really annoying, because instead of finding someone else, or using simpler english, or pantomining, or whatever, you just get some idiot saying "yes" to all your questions.

How far is it?  "yes"
Where's a good place to eat?  "Yes."
and so on.

Here's the conversation I had with the hotel manager as I tried to find the bus stop that would take me back to Moshi:

Scott: "Where is the bus stop?"
Manager: "yes."
Scott: "That wasn't a yes or no question."
Manager: "yes."
Scott: "I need to go to Moshi.  How do I get to Moshi?"
Manager: "yes"
Scott: "Moshi, dalla dalla (minibus)"
Manager: "yes"
Scott: "You have no idea what I'm saying, do you?"
Manager: "yes"
Scott: "dalla dalla kwenda Moshi iko wapi?"
Manager: "oh, over there."
Scott: "thank you" (in swahili)

Get out of town

Wake up, pack everything, hop on the bus.  I make it to a place called Usangi, in the Pare Mountains, a village and a mountain chain that no one has ever heard of.  But the guidebook says it's a decent place for a self-guided (read: cheap) hike, and it's only an hour or two from Moshi.  Random, but hilly, green, and beautiful.

I make it in, and once again am the only foreigner in the entire village.  No one knew where any hiking trails were (or, more accurately, because they are Tanzanian, they merely pretend to speak English, and just say "yes" or "no" randomly until you stop trying to ask them anything).  But I finally found one, and was able to summit the hill on the same day.  From the top, I could see all the way to Kenya.  Mountain ranges in the distance, and a massive lake filled out the landscape. 

So I finally got my hike in. 

67: not every day can be exciting

sometimes you mostly just sit.  I came north so early, in part, to beat the rainy season.  Were I still in Zambia when the rains came, it would be a miserable slog back to Nairobi.  But now that I'm in this area, trapped between the Serengeti, the emptiness of central Tanzania, the ocean, and a restive Kenya- and also broke- some days are more about internet cafe and just soaking up daily life than any specific adventure. 

Tanzania strikes again

Set up a phone interview with some people in DC, Skyping from the internet cafe.  It was going so well  until, of course, the power went out.

A Day in Moshi

You can only travel for so long; eventually you're just unemployed in a foreign country.  Going to Rwanda Genocide Tribunal hearings the previous week, and seeing all those lawyers, reminded me that I'm supposed to be a lawyer myself in a few weeks.  So I've been sending out emails and trying to figure something out.  To that end, I'd arranged a phone interview with DC, and now had to figure out how to make a phone call.

Since today makes for a boring blog entry, I'm going to make a list of the things I miss most: burritos, chocolate chip cookies, moving anonymously through a crowd, Anchor Steam, Sam Adams Oktoberfest, burritos, decent coffee, football, salad, and burritos. 

Basecamp at dawn

Woke up with the sunrise, and hiked out to the main road to get a view of Kili.  Beautiful, and massive.  Although it looked shorter than I expected- mostly because I was high up, and my view was blocked by another ridgeline- I got a sense of just how massive the volcanic cone is.  That part is, from below, visible as the flat top of Kilimanjaro's peak.  The weather was perfectly clear, and the mountain was beautifully snowcapped.  I just stared at the thing while passing Tanzanian schoolchildren probably thought I was crazy. 

Then pack everything, and hit the bus back to Moshi. 

63: Basecamp

Wake up, pack everything, hit the bus to Kili basecamp.  Alright, this isn't Everest and there isn't really a basecamp, but there are small villages in the foothills, near the park gates through which climbers pass.  I show up, and Kili is once again covered in clouds.  Turns out my hostel isn't in the main village at all, but a few kilometers uphill.  I got to have my own mini-climb, hoofing it up- at about 6,000 feet- the 45 minute walk.  With a backpack.  Nearly died. 

The village, Marangu, is pretty and green, but empty.  I was the only person in the hotel.  It was hard to find food and water, and I went to bed around 8, when the power went out. 

Moshi

Wake up, and a bomb has gone off in Kenya.  Conflict on the Somalian border has spread to Nairobi.  So, I had to call off the half-marathon in response to international terrorism.

It happens.

When I passed through Moshi last time, the fog was so heavy I couldn't see Kilimanjaro.  So I hop on the bus back, to get a better look at it.  Still cloudy when I arrived, but the skies cleared up around sunset. 

Kilimanjaro is amazing. 

61: Running and Rugby

Wake up and run.  Training for a half marathon, and at this point I have a week left.  I'm in no way in good enough shape to run a half, but can't miss an opportunity to run a half marathon in Kenya.

Then off to the local expat sports bar, to watch the Rugby World Cup with a bunch of drunken lion-hunting South African expats.  New Zealand beat France.  What the hell is France doing playing Rugby, anyway? 

One great thing about Arusha is the western food.  We took advantage by ordering some pizza.  Hard to put into words just how happy a mushroom pizza can make you.

60: coffee plantation

We take a local minibus, a "dalla-dalla" to a little village east of Arusha, then cab it up a few kilometers to an even smaller village, where we meet the tourguide.  He shows us the local school and church, then takes us into the coffee plantation.  Much better than elephants or any of that crap.

The tour took us through the farm where the coffee is actually grown, then into the factory -a small room with a roaster- where they roast and package the beans.  Obviously I bought some souvenirs.  I wanted the lady to grind one bag of coffee, so I'd have something to drink.  She couldn't though, because this is Tanzania and the power was out

A week in Arusha

I fell into the expat crowd, at least the intern expat crowd  Hard to walk aroud Arusha now without running into people I know- it's that kind of place.  More battling with the bank, a really boring documentary showing at the Alliance Francais (this is what happens when you try to be cultural). 

On Thursday I went with Shannon to the ICTR to hear closing arguments in the trial of a Rwandan official accused of participating in the 1994 Rwanda genocide.  Although we didn't know it at the time, an acquitted genocidaire was in the viewers gallery with us. 

At one point I made Mexican food, to try and get a taste of home.  It was close enough, and Tanznian avocados make for good guac.

55: Settling into Arusha

Went to Shannon's gym for a 10 mile run.  I failed, hopping off the treadmill at 14 kilometers- which Google Conversions tells me is less than 10 miles.  Otherwise, settling in, finding a cafe and a bookstore, and making friends.  I am still sore from that run, and it's been a week.

Lake Manyara National Park

The day after Nogorongoro we pile into a borrowed car and head to another national park, Lake Manyara.  This safari will be unique in that we're driving ourselves, without the benefit (or trouble, or expense) of any guides.

This park is as beautiful as Ngorongoro, with a banded color palette up and down the landscape.  Much of it looks like proper jungle, and the lake at a distance is home to some 3 million flamingos.  The flamingos left a long pink stripe across the lake's horizon. 

Manyara has a lot of elephants, and these elephants are very skittish around humans.  We stopped about 25 meters in front of one, until it began to flap its ears.  When an elephant flaps its ears at you, time to go.  We got the hell out of there.  Picture the scene in Jurassic Park where the T-Rex chases the jeep; it was basically like that.  And remember, in Jurassic Park the lawyer died first.  Need to be careful out here.

There had been some rains lately, leaving mud and a few puddles on the park's unpaved roads.  Seepan, the driver, hit one puddle in a misplaced wave of confidence.  The car became stuck, very stuck.  We were in serious trouble.  The water came up so high on my side that I couldn't open the door without flooding the interior.  The back tires had no traction, and 4-wheel drive wouldn't engage.  The engine was- at best- only a few inches from the water.  Walking back to the ranger station was impossible- elephants, baboons, and leopards prevented trying- and no one got cell reception.  We got out of the car, wondering how we might try to push the car. A safari 4x4 comes along, and agrees to try and help us out.  We attach a tow cable to both cars, and the 4x4 guns it.  Nothing.  He tries again, nothing.  Finally, he resolves to get closer to our car, meaning he'll be in the muddy and potentially tractionless mess just aside the large puddle in which we were stuck.  We all climb into the 4x4, to make it heavy as possible.  The driver guns it.  Nothing.  We're thinking we'll total the car, destroying either the frame or the engine.   The rangers would charge an enormous fee to get us out. 

The driver of the 4x4 guns it again. Nothing. 

He tries again, and our car moves.  It slides a bit and then pops right out, dragged by the safari 4x4 into safety.  We went down a few notches from "disaster" back to "adventure."

53: Safari in Ngorongoro Crater

On Saturday I went with Shannon and a bunch of UN kids to the Ngorongoro Crater, a wildlife-filled volcanic crater in a conservation area contiguous with the Serengetti.  Descend deep into the crater, 600 meters down, down the road's switchbacks.  You can see the ring of mountains all the way around the entire crater.  The animals can and do leave, but it's immediately apparent why they'd choose not too.  Steep ravine on one side, flat land on the other. 

We saw lions with a fresh buffalo kill, so exhausted from the hunt they couldn't eat.  They sat and panted, waiting to catch their breath and have dinner.  Elephants, hippos, giraffes, all that.  Beautiful landscapes, with bands of green, brown, and white in the distance, framed by blue and green mountains for a full 360 degrees.  The layered color palette on my photos is like nothing I've ever seen.

After lunch, the guide tried to cheat us by leaving the park early.  But we've been in Africa too long for that crap, and after a heated back and forth he brought us back into the crater.  Such a beautiful, unique place, though, that not even Tanzania's worst safari guide could hope to ruin it. 

52: Friday in Arusha

Wake up, pack nothing.  Nice to ust stay the hell put sometimes. 

I go on a walking tour set up by Shannon's roommate.  I didn't really intend to, but they were headed into town, and I had errands to run.  Then I was on a walking tour and before I knew what was happening I was somewhere where I didn't know where I was.  That sentence is a metaphor for my general confusion.  No food, no coffee, not even any water, and Shannon's roommate doesn't like sarcastic people.  You can imagine how this went. 

But I got to see Arusha and it's markets.  Arusha is a pretty little town, lush and green in contrast to the savannahs and woodlands covering much of Tanzania.  Purple and cloud-shrowded Mt. Meru, one of the highest peaks in Africa, frames the northern landscape. 

That night the tropical rains came in, so heavy you could barely see.

Arusha pt 2

Arusha is a little slice of the West, it seems.  I  meet Shannon  at a  western style cafe she calls "the Tanners of East Africa," where you can buy things like actual coffee.  One of the world's largest coffee production  regions and I  can't tell you how hard it is to find actual-  not instant- coffee.

Meet up with Seepan,  another recent USC grad, and we head to the movie theater on a UN shuttle to watch Captain America.   Stopped briefly for Mexican food.  It's like we're home!

Except the power went out three times during the movie,  and the theater wouldn't show the scene  after the credits.  Some sort of cultural misunderstanding prevented us from convincing them to show us the last scene.   So it all seemed very western until the continuous power outages reminded us that yes,  in fact,  we  are still in  Africa.

51: Arusha

Wake up, pack everything.  Fortunately, my next stop is only an hour away, so I'm in no rush.  I can actually walk around Moshi.  I bought a belt for three dollars.  Then hopped on a bus and went one city over, Arusha, tourist capital of Tanzania.  Being an hour away, it took 3 hours to get there. 

Moshi and Arusha are the big towns on Tanzania's northern circuit.  The northern circuit is a geographically diverse, wildlife-rich destination.  You can find alkaline lakes, mountains, escarpments (essentially sheer cliffs that mark dramatic changes in elevation from one side to the next, rippling across the Rift Valley landscape all over the region) savannah, mountains.  The northern circuit has Lake Manyara National Park, the Ngorogoro Crater, Mt. Meru, Arusha National Park, the Usambra Mountains, volcanic craters, coffee plantations, and, most famously, Mt. Kilimanjaro and the Serengeti. 

Arusha is also home to the UN International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, overseeing prosecutions of perpetrators of the 1994 Rwanda genocide.  Shannon and another law school friend are working here as interns, and so I'm staying here- for free- probably until Shannon kicks me out.

Day 50: Moshi

For those of you keeping track, I haven't been to a new place in a week or two.  Since Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, I'd just done a return trip north back through Vic Falls town, Livingstone, Lusaka, Kapiri Mposhi (Africa's armpit), the train, and then onto Dar.  Sure, there was some new scenery from the train, including a animal-free jaunt through the Selous National Park, but I was ready for something new.

So here it goes: wake up, pack everything, ride the bus.  The bus is supposed to take 6 hours and cost 25,000 shillings, but it took 10 hours and cost 50,000 shillings.  I won't translate that into dollars out of sheer embarrassment for how badly we were ripped off.  When the guy at the bus stand tried to charge another 20,000 shillings as a "baggage fee," a well-known scam, I let loose a pretty long string of expletives.  At this point I've been in Africa for nearly two months, and bus-ticket-overcharge notwithstanding, I wasn't going to fall for a baggage fee scam.

So me and a friend from the train hop on the bus to Moshi, on Tanzania's famous northern circuit.  We pass through green mountain chains and- although it was too cloudy to see- Mt. Kilimanjaro.  Once in Moshi, my travel buddy had some friends who ran a cafe/travel agency downtown.  We had dinner and then they found us a cheap hotel.

Today didn't turn out to be much of an adventure, but at least I was once again seeing new places.

Back in Dar

so the first part of day 49 technically began when the train got in at 1:00am.  But that's been covered.

Now I wake up in Dar, a hot, muggy, maze-like city right along the Indian Ocean coast.  It was a rainy, overcast day, and the general plan was to get the hell out as soon as possible.  We hit up the internet cafe, assuming our loved ones had already reported us missing to the State Dep't, but it seems everyone is getting used to the idea of me going missing for 4 days in Africa. 

Two friends from the train had treated themselves to a high end hotel, where we soaked up the un-train-like comforts and caught up on the weekend's World Cup Rugby quarterfinals.

Although I didn't really want to be in Dar, I couldn't have been bothered to pack up and catch a bus at gunpoint.  The train was exhausting, so today was just a day to sit back, stay out of the rain, and relax. 

45-48: sometimes you are on a train for a long time

Wake up.  Pack everything, head for the bus.  We had to leave Lusaka for a place called Kapiri Mposhi, to catch the international train.  This would be like leaving Los Angeles to catch an international flight from a truckstop outside Barstow.  What the hell, Zambia.  The first day was a lot of time in a train station.  I was with two English med students I met in Lusaka, and another English kid I met back in Livingstone, as well as a Norwegian girl he'd met somewhere in Zim. 

My plan was to head to Mbeya, the halfway point between central Zambia and the end of the line, coastal Dar Es Salaam.  In Mbeya I could meet up with a friend in the Peace Corps I'd met earlier in my trip, assuming I could get ahold of him once I was in town. 

On Day 2 of the train ride, the luggage compartment totally derailed.  No one was hurt, but the train was totally out of commission, and the railway line north was blocked.  A rail strike (unrelated to the previous rail strike I dealt with in Zimbabwe) meant everything was even more pole pole (slow) than usual.  All in all, this meant a 24 hour delay- on a friggin' train- and I'd be skipping Mbeya.  No time; I had to be in Arusha by the end of the week, at the northern edge of Tanzania.  I was now on this train for the long haul.  Dar Es Salaam or bust. At least there were 5 of us, so we were in it together.

The train was supposed to arrive in Mbeya on the second day, and Dar around lunchtime on the 3rd day.  Instead, it arrived at 1:30am on the 5th day.  If it weren't for the other travelers, I'd have probably gone insane.  We hadn't showered, and I felt like I was covered in chicken fat, dust, and shame.  Finally getting to our hotel in Dar (3rd visit to this craphole town) I jumped in the shower.

The water was lukewarm, and the showerhead gave more of a drizzle than anything actually resembling a shower.  But it was the best shower I've ever had in my entire life.

Day 44: Lusaka

Wake up.  Pack everything.  Take the bus. 

I went to Lusaka.  It's okay.  I had some good Thai food. 

I was planning on heading to Malawi from Lusaka, but the prices for transport were prohibitively expensive.  Also, East Africa is at the edge of the rainy season, and I wanted to get further north (my flight home leaves from Nairobi, Kenya) before tropical rains destroyed these poorly constructed Africa roads.  I noticed the Zambia-Tanzania train was leaving the next day, so I decided to head back north. 

Met a few English kids headed the same way.  Decided we'd split a cab.

41-43: no rush to leave Livingstone

So the days blur together.  I had to rest and wait for a weekday, to hit up the bank once again.  I spent my days playing in the pool.  I even went for a run- great way to see a city.  One night we packed up my friends' 4x4 and went to the swanky Royal Livingstone Hotel, a $500/night 5 star joint with a helipad right on the Zambezi river.  We saw zebras and we obviously did not fit in.  The mist from the waterfall was easily visible just a few hundred yards away.  Then we headed to a more relaxed place, a boat dock on the upper part of the river- the wide part- where the 6 of us could watch the sun go down. 

Days were spent watching World Cup Rugby and eating traditional food in the nearby market.  The most basic dish, nshima ("SHEma") is made from corn flour and water.  It has the texture of mashed potatoes, and about the same taste.  You roll a ball up in your right hand, dip it in broth, and enjoy.  Usually served with some braised beef, and pickled cabbage.  It is bland and simple, but filling and warm.  With enough chili sauce and salt, it's really enjoyable. 

On my last night, we decided to fire up the grill at the hostel, and have a massive bbq.  Here, a bbq is called a "braai" ("bry"), from the Dutch word via South Africa.  In the end I think we had about 10 people in on it, and it was a great last night for all the people I'd come to know in the Livingstone/Victoria Falls area.

Back to Zambia

Wake up, pack everything, head for the border.  This meant I got to walk back over Victoria Falls bridge and see the canyon once again, 350 deep.  At the border I run into some people from the Zimbabwe hostel, and we split a cab back to Livingstone.  Getting back to Livingstone, the town where I stayed 4 nights while resolving bank issues, was a nice homecoming.  Several of my friends were there, including Nick and Zuulfa, the Australian couple 14 months into their years-long African trip.  They'd adopted a pet chameleon, Sid, and fed him flies.  Later a few of us tried Livingston's Mexican restaurant.  It was . . . a nice effort.

The Adventure Continues

Day 39 starts with me eating breakfast by myself, wondering how I'll get out of Bulawayo.  Then a Polish couple shows up and invites me on a daytrip to the nearby national park, Matopos.  Their plan was to have a taxi take us down and drive us through the park, and it'd be cheaper the more people joined in.  I figured, why not?  So we head on down to Matopos, but the rangers won't let us into the park; no taxis allowed.  The local tour operators had paid off the rangers so that no taxis could come in, forcing visitors to rely on the tour operators.  Zimbabwe is a shady, shady place.

The Polish kids notice that a large SUV is behind us, a private car looking to tour the park.  They talk our way into that car, a group of South African retirees road tripping through Southern Africa.  They let us squeeze into the back of their car and drive us all around the park.  Matopos itself is known for it's unique granite formations, and looks a lot like parts of the Sierras.  Frankly the Sierras are nicer.  The guards wouldn't let us see the park's main vistas without paying another $10 at the trailhead.  On principle, and because we couldn't be sure this was the last bribe, no one paid.  We drove around the park for a couple hours though, and it's a beautiful place.

The South Africans drove us back to Bulawayo.  They were headed back to Victoria Falls, and offered to give me a ride.  Really, really good luck.

I started the morning alone, stranded, and wondering how I was going to escape Bulawayo.  I ended up seeing the national park very cheaply, and getting a free ride back to the doorstep of the backpacker's hostel in the town of Victoria Falls.  My friends from the first visit were still there, to welcome me back.

Day 37-38, Into Zimbabwe

Day 37 was another errands day, getting my photos copied to a CD, buying a train ticket, etc.  Everything takes awhile here, and no one is in a rush.  Finally, I board a ticket to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe's second largest city.  The train was this beautiful shiny machine, well lit and with a nice dining car.  Not nearly as bad as everyone says.  Then, at boarding time, the oldest, crappiest, most run-down piece of crap you've ever seen limps along to the platform.  It doesn't have food, water, or electricity.  I ended up rooming with a tv sportscaster from the capital, Harare.  Nice guy. 

Of course, the train breaks down the next morning, delaying us a few hours.  A chunk of the rail broke.  And the railway union was on strike, so the train refused to enter Bulawayo, dropping us off 5 km away to fend for ourselves.  And the hostel was 4 times the price quoted in the guidebook.  And a friend-of-a-friend, who I was supposed to stay with, was in Europe, and was unable to get me a place to stay.  And the buses were so bad the guidebook refused to give any info.  And again, the trains were on strike.  The tourist buses only went to South Africa.  Impossible to leave, but too expensive to stay.  Even a daytrip to the local national park was going to cost me $120.  No way.

Bulawayo is a pretty town, with wide streets, colonial architecture, purple jacaranda trees in bloom.  It's very multicultural, as Africa goes.  But I would have to leave somehow.  The crappy hostel, wherein I was the only guest, refused to run the generator when the power ran out.  So I sat, by myself, in the dark, reading my book by candlelight and wondering how the hell I would get out.  Maybe Vic Falls, maybe Harare, or another national park, but somehow I had to leave.  I could tell this was the end of my southward journey, time to look north and head back towards the equator.  Oh well, can't win 'em all.

Mark Johnson

I have been request to blog about my good buddy, Mark Johnson.  I want to announce that I have absolutely replaced him with Africa, and I regret sincerely that I cannot bring him any malaria. 

Day 36: sunset cruise

"Sunset cruise" is a well-known euphemism for an all-you-can-drink boat ride.  But here I can claim it was a cultural experience, as we set off on a two hour cruise along the Zambezi river.   Animals are most active at dawn and sunset, so this is the perfect chance to spot some wildlife.  We spotted several hippos- the most dangerous animal in Africa- a croc, and an elephant.

There was an old guy on the cruise from San Francisco, but he didn't know anything about the 49ers.  Forget that dude.

Day 35: Zimbabwe

Wake up, pack everything, say bye.  Going to Zimbabwe means a quick cab to the border, then walking across an old bridge over the canyon.  Beautiful way to see a new country, and an easy way to travel.  Once into Zim, paid for my cab with their funny green currency, the "US dollar."  Saw Vic Falls from the Zimbabwe side, this time facing the falls directly.  I was able to see people on the Zambia side jumping into the Devil's Pool, and still not one death.

I met a guy at the hostel who works on a game reserve to stop rhino poachers.

Day 34

I fought glorious battle with the bank, and prevailed with cash.  Then I went to a crocodile farm just outside Livingstone, a reptile sanctuary with about 70 crocs and a nice collection of cobras.  I got to pet a baby croc; they have soft bellies.  The guide poked one large, old croc with a stick, provoking him to snap.

The real story of the croc visit, however, is the herd of wild elephants we came across wandering just outside.  Foraging at first in the bush, then stopping traffic as they crossed the road.  We got close enough to where we felt comfortable so long as they paid us no attention, but once they turned towards us it was time to get out.

One upshot of getting money is that it meant I was leaving Zambia.  After 4 nights in one place, the longest I'd sat still since California, I'd be crossing the border the next morning into Zimbabwe. 

Day 32

My 3rd day in Livingstone centered around yelling about banks.  That and sitting by the pool.

Day 30-31: Livingstone

7 hour bus ride  -ask me about it sometime when I'm back home- and we make it to Livingstone, Zambia's side of Victoria Falls.  Staying at probably the best hostel in Africa, a little place called Jollyboys.  A pool, plenty of patios and places to sit around, a bar area with a tv, and lots of other travellers.  On the first full day, me and my Japanese friend Yoichiro took a guided tour along the edge of Victoria Falls, a massive  and completely impressive gorge where the Zambezi river hits sheer cliff dropping over 300 feet into a canyon.  The falls are very long, and you can't see all the way down because the mist thrown up by the falls is too dense.  We hiked along the edge,  wading knee-deep through parts.  At the end of this hike we jumped into a spot called the Devil's Pool, a small hot-tub sized spot without any current.  Right in the middle of a cataract, right at the edge. 

And then I went to the ATM, but Chase had shut me down.  Someone jacked by debit card info, and Chase is utterly confused by the existence of foreign countries, and especially the presence of their clients in these strange and unknown places.  They assured me they would send a new card to Martinez, California within  5-7 days.  When I asked if they could send a card to Zambia, they used a tone indicating that I was the dumbass.  (Expletives deleted).

But the day wasn't over, even if the cash flow was.  Some Australians with a car invited me and a few other kids to go watch the sunset over the gorge.  We found a completely random spot over the rapids, also about 300 feet up, and the 6 of us watched the sun set over Zambia.  Hell of a day.

Day 29: Lusaka

Lusaka is the capital of Zambia.  It is boring.  That is all.      

Day 28: dumb luck

5am bus means waking up at 4:30.  Miserable and pitch black.  But we make the bus, and head to the house of a volunteer in Mbeya, Tanzania.  Was able to eat and take a quick shower- and by shower I mean pouring water over my head from a bucket.  By an amazing stroke up dumb luck, this volunteer lived a 10 minute walk from the train station, where I was able to catch the train I'd bought tickets for back in Dar Es Salaam, and had given up on somewhere in southern Tanzania.  I made the train and settled in for the long ride with my cabin mates, a Japanese guy named Yoichiro, a Kenyan named Alex, and some Danish guy who didn't stay long. 

In the evening, just as the sun went down, we crossed into Zambia

Day 27: the beach

For once, gloriously, no buses.  Still in Matema, Tanzania, at the shores of Lake Nyasa/Lake Malawi.

Started the morning off with a hike to a waterfall.  The waterfall ends in a deep pool, which we cooled off by jumping into.  Then more beach, and another beach bonfire.  Simple, and amazing.

Day 26: Lake Nyasa

On day 26 we made it, after some grueling busing, we made it to the shores of Lake Nyasa (Lake Malawi), one of the largest lakes in Africa.  The end of the lake fades into the horizon, like an ocean.  On the left are steep mountains, and to the right is Malawi.  I had chips mayai again, the french fry omelet of past posts, and we capped of the night with a beach bonfire. 

Well worth all those damn buses.

Day 25: bus

More bus.  Decided that rather than try to get back to Dar Es Salaam (to catch the train) I'd keep heading around the south with the volunteers, and find some other way into Zambia.  As always in Africa, the method is "somehow."  I'll get to Zambia "somehow."

Day 24: Brazilian BBQ with the Peace Corps

This day wins in the random category.  Started the day playing ultimate frisbee and basketball, until, as is usually the case when I try to be active, I injured myself.  We lost narrowly in ultimate, but my team went on to win in basketball.  Then we went to the house of a Brazilian expat who served us authentic Brazilian churascaria bbq.  After dealing with the crap food for over three weeks this was amazing.  I was even excited about the salad.  Then I got to watch the Peace Corps talent show (I hope they're better at aid work than entertainment) before we beat up on the makeshift pinata. 

Good times.

Day 23, Songea

Wake up before daylight, pack bags, get on another cramped minibus (called “dalla dallas”) and spend another ungodly amount of time traveling.  Finally, we make it to Songea, site of the Peace Corps gathering and a place that never really sees backpackers.  It’s remote and not at all famous, so it’s random and fortunate I ended up at this little town not too far from the Mozambique border.  

The volunteers get a 9 week intensive Swahili training, and speak pretty well.  It was a huge help and I was finally able to learn a couple of words.  Had another traditional Tanzanian dish, Chipsi Mayai.  French fries cooked with eggs.  It’s basically a French fry omelet that you smother in chili sauce. 

Interlude: anecdotes and embellishments

The day of whitewater rafting in Uganda, we made it to the hostel with plans to shower and drop our bags in the room.  But there was a deck a few hundred feet over some cataracts in a wide section of the Nile, ambling along in a wide gorge with green hillsides.  We didn't leave the deck for hours.  Shannon had a Redd's Cider, Deepak had a Tusker Malt, I had a Nile Special Lager and we all reflected on how far away the bar exam felt.

In Tanzania, the electricity goes out every day, more or less.  Getting back to my hotel one night in Stonetown, the staff handed out candles and matches to returning guests, sending us by candlelight up the dark wood staircase.  Kerosene lamps or candles sit at the table of every restaurant in Zanzibar. 

There is a quote on the wall, from Ernest Hemingway, at my current hostel reading:  "I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I was not happy."   What the wall does not tell you is that the next line in that book says "Until I remembered unfinished business."   There is always a lot to be done here, and entire days are spent on travel, atms, internet, finding lodging, doing laundry.                

Day 22: the Peace Corps days

Somehow met up with the peace corps volunteers, a group I'd met at my hostel in Dar, at a busy Tanzanian  bus station at the scruffy edge of town. Didn't have a cell phone, so it's a little hit and miss trying to find people, but I've learned to rely on the fact that it's really, really easy to spot white people in Africa.  (Back in Uganda, Deepak says to me: "if you are ever a fugitive, don't come to Africa.  We spotted you a mile away).  Anyhow, somehow met up with the group, hopped on a long bus ride to Iringa, 7 cramped hours away.  Getting in at nightfall, I got to try some Tanzanian food, and at Tanzanian prices.  90 cents got me a large place of rice and beans, smothered with red chili sauce.  That's how they do it.

Day 20-21, Dar

Get into Dar on the nicer ferry, not wanting to risk discount ferries anymore.  I think you understand.  I made it to the train station to buy a ticket into Zambia, but they were sold out until the following week.  So I buy my ticket and resign myself to a boring week in sleepy Dar.

Long story short, I ended up going to a pig roast in Southern Tanzania with a bunch of Peace Corps volunteers.

Day 19, Stonetown again.

Get up, pack, get a shuttle, shuttle takes forever.  In Swahili, the word for "slowly" is "pole pole."  Pronounced po-lay.  Pole pole is how everything is done.  It is the attitude, the time, everything.  Not that they're relaxed, it's just that Zanzibaris are terrible at getting things down.  Back to Stonetown finally.  No ATMs work anywhere, so I finally had to get a taxi to a different part of town.  Eventually settle back in, go back to Zanzibar coffee house, see Stonetown's mazes, back to the fish market for dinner.  Made friends with some Germans studying at the University of Dar.

Day 18, Nungwi

Nungwi is the northernmost tip of Zanzibar, and about 3 kilometers north of Kendwa.  Cabs were too expensive, so I just walked in along the main road.  Other than that, it was a day at the beach.  No ATMs outside of Stonetown, so cash was a major issue.  Such is Africa.

At sunset we went for a cruise on a traditional dhow, stopping halfway to jump in the water.  A bunch of old Floridians asked where they might find a liquor store

Day 17, Kendwa

Pack the bags up once again, head to the northern tip of the island, with really pristine white sand beaches and open-air restaurants with tables right out on the sand.  The water is clear and bright and dotted with traditional dhow sailboats.  Sadly, that morning a ferry sank 14 miles off the coast, the worst maritime disaster in the history of Tanzania.  Over 200 people died, and survivors were being brought ashore all morning.

Day 14 through 16, Stonetown

So we get up and take the ferry, passing the container ships around the busy Dar Es Salaam port ("a Somali pirate's dream) through the turquoise blue waters of the Indian Ocean.  The ship pulls into Stonetown, Zanzibar's main city, built by wealthy Arab sultans in the 18th and 19th centuries (I guess) with a whitewashed look and a medieval layout, buildings coming right to the edge of the white sand beaches.  The first night I had dinner at the seafood market, fresh skewers thrown on the bbq.  So good.

The second day of Zanzibar was amazing but difficult to convey as a story; there's so much to get from just walking around town, getting hopelessly lost in the maze of alleys and busy side streets.  I went for a run and paused halfway through to jump in the very warm ocean,  A cup of spiced coffee at the Zanzibar coffee house was the first decent cup of coffee I've had in Africa, and we spent sunset watching locals play pickup soccer on the beach.

The third day we went on a tour of the spice farms, once a leading source of Zanzibar's wealth.  Saw coffee, cocoa, cinnamon, pepper, vanilla and a bunch of others growing in the fields.  Rain picked up and we had to take refuge in the mud brick, thatched roof house of a local.  The tour finishes with lunch under a thatched roof canopy, sitting on the floor.  Then more time at the ocean, and a quick duck into large underground caves used for smuggling slaves after the slave trade had been outlawed by the British.  An amazing place, and an odd juxtaposition with the rest of the sights

Day 13: Dar

Wake up in Jinja, take the local bus for 3 hours to Kampala.  It's supposed to be an hour long but this is Africa.  Find a taxi to take us to the airport, Ugandan police threaten arrest for stepping over an unassuming two foot rope barrier, get in the cab, get the hell out.  We've found the one slow cab driver in East Africa, and barely make the flight.  Fly out of Entebbe, Uganda, seeing the oceanic Lake Victoria roll out below us.  Fly into Nairobi Airport, the power is out.  Fly to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, spotting Mt Kilimanjaro along the way, emerging very blue and very far and very clearly above the clouds.  I could have probably spotted trekkers at the summit, seemingly. 

Land in Dar, cab to a hotel.  It's night.  It's hot.  Grab a beer at a hotel rooftop overlooking the bay, as container ships and traditional dhow fishing boats pass by.  And this way of getting to Dar was the easy way.  We decide to sleep in and catch a later ferry the next day.  Zanzibar sounds fantastic and all, but sometimes so does sleep.

Day 12

There is a Jewish proverb along the lines of: men make plans, and God laughs.  You could easily rearrange it: people make plans, and Africa laughs.

We find ourselves at a riverside restaurant in Jinja, the city where you can raft the Nile.  We discovered the place despite the staggering incompetence of the lonely planet guidebook.  I was with friends who wanted to go to Zanzibar the next day, and so this would be our last meal as a group.  We were able to take a banana boat ride that reminded everyone of the Jungle Cruise, and set off into the mouth of the Nile, and Lake Victoria beyond, with the Australian restaurant manager at the helm.  This guy had been living in Zanzibar for the last 3 years, so it was a big topic of conversation.  After the boat ride on the Nile, we sat at the restaurant to wait out some light rain.  The rain got heavier.  We were trapped.  The rain got heavier, so we ordered dinner.  The rain didn't let up, totally dashing our plans to get back to Kampala.  Finally, after hearing all about Zanzibar, I decided to hell with it, let's all go.  That night, after the rain let up just enough for us to make it to a hostel, I used the world's worst internet connection to book a cheap internal flight to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, the last mainland waypoint to the white sand island just offshore: Zanzibar.

Day 11: whitewater rafting

We went whitewater rafting on the Nile, just beyond it's traditional source at Lake Victoria.  We finished with a bbq where I had Uganda's national beer, "Nile."

Not to be a jerk about this, but I had a better day than you.

Day 10: Rugby

Bleary-eyed, I de-bused and cabbed over to the hostel.  "There are two places for the white ones," my cabbie informed me, "Red Chili and Backpackers."  Well hot damn if he wasn't right, I was going to Red Chili to meet Shannon and Deepak (they may not be white in the US, but in Africa they're 100% mzungu, same as me.)  We met up, found real coffee, rode boda bodas- motorcycle taxis- and found ourselves at a mostly local professional rugby match.  Saw a guy have his shoulder relocated, telling his mom, as he was helped out by two teammates, to meet him at the bar.

Day 9 and a half: kill me now

There are no bad days in Africa, but the nights are another story.  The bus ride from Nairobi to Kampala had me sitting in the very back, the only seat wedged between two other passengers.  It left at 8pm and would not arrive in Kampala, Uganda until 8am the next morning.

I laid my fleece over my lap to avoid pickpockets.  I dozed occasionally to be waken midair when a bump in the terrible Kenyan roads launched me six inches from my seat.  The bus blasted at full volume US country music and early 90s R&B.  At 4am we had to get off the bus for the border crossing, then hopped back on for more miserable riding.  I sat quietly and prayed steadfastly for the sweet release of death.  

Day 9: the expats

the expats drove me to Nairobi, I got to see their house and how they live.  The house was small, but the gardens were nice and so was the view.  Security was tight.  I was finally able to get online, and most of the posts were made in their home office.  They had their maid take me on a matatu, even paying for the matatu, all the way to my bus stop, which I'd never have found w/o any help.  A simple day and not much of a story, but an interesting one for a tourist.

Day 8: Errands

By Day 8 the cash was out, Shannon and Deepak were (although I didn't know it) worried I was dead, and my parents, not updated since pre-safari times had probably assumed I'd been killed by a rhino and were busy turning my room into a scrapbooking studio.  It was time to run some damn errands.

First, let me explain why I had no cash.  It is because Africa is friggin' ridiculous.  The village next to the camp at Lake Naivasha had 5 atms.  I'm not even sure Martinez has 5 ATMs.  1 was out of cash, 2 were broken, and the others had lines that were 1-5 hours long as locals tried to get out their monthly paycheck from the local flower producers.  It was the end of the month, and Scott wasn't going to get any money.  The only thing I had going for me was Hell's Gate takes Visa.  So I hop on the matatu (local bus, crammed with locals, dirt cheap, usually the only white guy being me) and headed to town.  Finally I found an atm, and the one damn internet cafe anywhere near the lake. 

I spent the rest of the day sitting by the lake, meeting other foreigners and waiting for hippos to wade ashore, on their side of the electric fence, as the sun went down.  I met a european couple living in Kenya who were doing work at the campground, and who had once met the owners of Sonoma's Safari West African animal preserve. 

I was supposed to bus from Lake Naivasha to Uganda's capital city, Kampala, the next day.  But this being Africa, that's not how it worked, and I had to go back to Nairobi, somehow kill a day there, and then do an overnight, 12-13 hour bus ride.  Son of a bitch.

Luckily, the European expat couple offered to give me a ride back to Nairobi and let me spend the day at their house, mooching food and internet.  It'd save me a few shillings and a lot of inconvenience by skipping the matatus.

Day 7: Hell's Gate

So Day 2 at Naivasha, incidentally low on cash and far from any internet, we ride our rented bikes down to the national park, Hell's Gate.  Volcanic activity led the local Masai people to believe this area was literally the gates of hell, and even now the steam drawn from the ground powers most of Kenya's lakes region. Riding our bikes through amazing rocky geological formations, not unlike a very green version of Utah, we passed within a few hundred feet of a herd of Cape Buffalo.  Cape Buffalo are the second most dangerous animal in Africa (after the fearsome hippo) and Travis Murray (Safari West in Sonoma) is pretty sure one will kill him someday.  God I hope so.  Anyhow, being within a few hundred feet, and much less than a hundred at one point, you feel like you could reach out and just pet one of these F-150-sized beasts. 

The main attraction of Hell's Gate is the gorge, at the top of the bike trail.  The gorge has been carved out of soft volcanic soil by heavy tropical rains over a few decades, leaving a multilayered, miles-long scar in the earth, 2-10 feet wide and 20-100 feet high, broken up with a stream at the bottom and hot water dripping out of the sides.  The guided hike lasts about two hours as you wander the gorge.

Day 6: Leaving the Mara

Day 6 was the final day of the safari, and we left at 6:30am for an earlier game drive, to catch the animals in action.  I saw some jackals trying their best to piss off some lionesses by getting near as possible and barking at them.  Jackals, we learned, are nature's assholes. 

Also, saw a lion with a fresh wildebeest.

Then it was time to leave, and a Brit in our safari group convinced me to head back to the lakes region of Kenya's Rift Valley, for hiking and biking and whatever else.  Despite low funds and an absence of internet, I figured, eh what the hell.  So after leaving the Maasai Mara we got on another safari bus at lunch, one headed towards the lakes.  From the town of Naivasha, we jumped on matatus, the local transport.  A matatu is essentially a van driven by Kenya's answer to the New York cabbie.  You cram in with as many locals as possible, and hope for the best.  On a good day a matatu is a real experience, but you can really crank up the fun when your bag is strapped to the roof.  Do I trust the matatu drivers?  No.  But it worked, and we took the matatu all the way to the lakeside of Naivasha, finding a fantasic lakeside camp with an open-air restaurant, and a monkey filled campground with an electric fence at the water's edge- to keep out the hippos.  We dropped bags, rented bikes, and biked out to a saltwater lake nearby, Lake Eloiden.  This is one of the famous flamingo lakes.  Normally I don't care about flamingos, but when you see a few thousand take off from the water in concert, it's amazing. 

More amazing was the bike ride to the lake.  Spotted giraffes just off the road, and went to investigate.  Once we got near (but not too near) we found zebras and antelope as well.  When a hyena popped up, we got the hell out. 

After all that, back to the camp for a Tusker.

Nairobi, Kenya (Why am I back in Nairobi?  You'll have to wait for day 9)

Day 5: On Safari

The second, and longest day of the safari, brought us to elephants, hippos, hyenas, and lion cubs, along with everything from the other day.  We saw wildebeests gathering to cross the river as part of the Great Migration, the largest mammal migration on the planet.  For lunch we even stepped out of the safari van, just to re-enter the food chain a little. 

After the game drive, we toured a village of the Maasai people, one of the Kenyan tribes maintaining their traditional ways of life.  They live in mud huts, practice polygamy, herd goats and cattle, and see themselves as lion-hunting warriors.  The Maasai are known for their brightly colored red robes, and are seen herding their animals, in traditional dress, all over southwestern Kenya.  I learned that even in remote mud-hut villages of cattle herders, you exit through the gift shop.  Welcome to our village, now buy a crappy carving of a rhino. 

Nairobi, Kenya

Get me some internet

The first day in I narrowly managed to avoid an absurdly overpriced tour of Nairobi, and ended up meeting some Irish kids heading to the Giraffe Center.  We found a cab, made it to the giraffes, and fed them by hand.  Some parents were convincing their 10 year old child to hold the giraffe food in her mouth, so that the giraffe would lick her face.  The child was terrified.  Those are awesome parents.  Then we found a swanky hotel overlooking a park and downtown Nairobi, and had a few Tuskers. 

The second day I had to pack up and head to a new hostel, a much nicer place down the road, to meet Shannon and Deepak, returning from a safari.  I overshot the hostel by half a mile, wandering around Africa with my backpack and a guidebook.  I asked for help and a Kenyan police officer walked me back to the hostel.  Very friendly people, the Kenyans.  And they sure do love Americans, seeing as who we elected president.  Finally made it to the hostel, meeting up with Shannon and Deepak.  We headed to a place called Carnivore, Kenya's answer to the Brazilian steakhouse.  Walking in, you see a giant open oven, cooking skewers of every kind of meet, including beef, chicken, pork, ostrich, goat, and I'm assuming a zebra.  I mean, why not?  Damn things are everywhere.  Then we decided to go to the bar next door, and ended up dancing in a bar that was 100% local but for us.  Obviously, me and Deepak were foreordained to be the worst dancers in the room, but everyone seemed thrilled to have some foreigners around.  Sidenote, my fake wallet could have been stolen about 100 times while we were in there, but no one bothered any of us.  If you use some common sense, Nairobi's reputation as a crime-ridden city is pretty overblown. 

Day 3.  Shannon and Deepak leave, and I'm back on my own.  I head to Lake Nakuru, which the guidebook describes as nice.  In fact, the park is insanely expensive and the town is a frightening shithole.  And as the only white person in the entire city, I received an insane amount of attention.  I am a big dollar sign in places not frequented by other foreigners.  I got out immediately, finding a good deal on a safari.  So trying to see the lake was a failure, but the next morning I'd be escaping.

Day 4.  Maasai Mara.  Day 4 had me hopping on the local mini-buses, or mutatus, heading to join with the safari.  Met up with the group in our pop-top safari van on the way to Kenya's most famous national park, the Maasai Mara.  Note: they do not take Visa.  Visa lied about that.  Youtube the commercial if you want a bit of consumer outrage.  We got there in time for a 2-hour game drive through the park, seeing giraffes, zebras, wildebeest, antelope, and lions.  I could write all day about the safari, but I'll wait until I have photos.

I'll add more later, but for now a quick overview of Africa.  Being here makes me excited and anxious at almost all times.  I'll forget where I am for a moment, then see a herd of wild zebras foraging around the acacia trees. The place is absurdly beautiful, but also insanely dysfunctional.  There are fewer tourists here than I would expect (you can walk around Nairobi for 30 mins w/o seeing another mzungu), meaning I get more attention than I would in Costa Rica, Guat, or Mexico, but generally I've felt pretty safe.  My fake wallet is basically there for the taking, but my interactions with locals have been almost entirely positive.  I have to get to Uganda soon, but no idea how I'm supposed to pull that off.  A hostel I booked online turns out not to have existed, another hostel didn't honor my reservation.  Today is spent just finding an ATM (check), and internet cafe (check) and a way to Uganda.  Then, I think, time for a nap.

Lake Naishava, Kenya

First Day

giraffes!  More later

alive and in Africa

I am in Africa and not dead.  On the plane I met a State Dept employee headed to Baghdad, a guy visiting his family in Cairo, a woman headed home to Saudi Arabia, and a French UN staffer who has been living in Africa for 5 years. 

Very surreal.

Weather is nice, hostel is okay, \Nairobi internet cafe is terrible. 

"What the hell are you going to do in Africa for 11 weeks?"

I land in Nairobi, Kenya, on August 25th, 12:30am local time (8/24, 2:30pm PDT).  I won't leave until November 9th.  Posts will start up after that.  The focus is on Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. 

What is there to do in East Africa for 11 weeks?  Safaris, hiking, chimpanzee tracking, rafting, avoiding angry Cape Buffalo.  There are Indian Ocean beaches, Mt. Kilimanjaro and other (cheaper) mountains, Lake Victoria, craters, volcanoes, national parks, and the Nile.  The savannahs have elephants, giraffes, lions, rhinos, antelope, wildebeests, and basically all the other crap you saw in Lion King.  The mountains have chimps and gorillas. 

I'm also going to talk a lot about the cities, towns, the people, and the food.

I'm packing light; everything goes in one internal-frame backpack or it doesn't go at all.  Along with what you'd bring camping, plus malaria pills, a mosquito net, a few books, Lonely Planets for East and Southern Africa, running shoes, my passport, and sunscreen.  A lot of sunscreen.

See you next week.

Coming soon...