One way ticket to Africa

Gallery: Jill and Istanbul

ellij — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 18:29:00 GMT

Scams!

ellij — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 15:16:00 GMT

Well after surviving the much less developed parts of Africa, maybe I became a little too relaxed arriving in what is in many ways, close to the developed nation of Eygpt - including not just the exploitation of tourist funds but the active process of getting money off them for no effort apart from immediate personal gain.

My first scam I think was not planned and niether to anyone's beneifit except my story telling. With the usual occurrence of a self-appointed guide, I was attempting to cross the extremely chaotic streets of Downtown Cairo when a well dressed, well spoken middle age man began insisting on granting me his Egyptian hospitality. I was intending simply to eat my bakery lunch looking at the Nile, which was about 100m away and he knidly decided it was his civic duty to escort me this distance.

Sensing something akward on the horizon I decided a sprite was in order to accompany my lunch and tried to back track with this excuse and loose my host. Unsuccessfully, he insisted sprite was available in the direction we were already walking and continued divulging his personal details, including of course, his 'Australian girlfriend's' business card - haven't we all heard that one before!

Walking for 3 minutes too long I began to question why we couldn't find a sprite down one of the side streets we perpetually passed. Insisting on knowing a noce place and his Egyptian hospitality, along with my loss for how to extract myself form the situation had me following along until the lush 30m high windows of the lobby of the Grand Hyatt Hotel - Doh!

After divulging my pocket knife to the lobby guards, I began my assertive (rude in our terms) expression of questioning why he brought me there and how uncomfortable I felt given the normal Louis Vuttion luggage toting clientle comapred my daily backpacking fashion. His insistance of 'being somewherwe nice' and 'his Egyptian hospitality' had me resigning to a recogniasably gracious thankyou, after which he then excused himself for the toilet.

The drinks arrived and my sprite was downed instantanously. Fifteen minutes later I was still looking at his untouched pot of tea and the penny started to drop. Twenty minutes later and I was divising my own composed escap plan assuming the scam was well under way and I wouldn't be embarassed by his return to find me skulling his tea before hop tailing it out of there.

Three quick cups of quality tea and one fine choc chip biscuit later, I calmly recieved and paid the completely overpriced (as expected) 40 Egyptian pound bill with a generous 5 pound tip and hop tailed as quickly as possible with the smirk of a gera story and a purse a grand total of $10 lighter.

The second scam one week later was however, much more planned, much more suprising and cost me three times as much - yes a disgusting AUS$30...I love travelling in Africa :)

The strike of the random again but this fellow was my age, apparently a PhD student and put in much more effort convincing me he was decent. He put a good hour in finding me stamps, travel agents and supermarkets, and then mentioned the very attractive idea of the commonly forged international student card and had me sucked in.

"They will pretend like their not happy about doing it at all but they don't survive without this extra under-the-table business. Just let me do the talking" was the strategy and obviuosly aware that i was attempting to pull a scam of my own, agreed and went along accompanied by some nerves. We readied my passport complete with enclosed passport-sized photo and 140 Egyptian pounds - 100 for the card and 40 for 'her'.

Things went along as expected with her asking for some proof of my student status and me lying that i had none on me and that uni was closed for holidays. I'm not a good liar at all. My 'friend' (can't actually remembered what his name was meant to be) told me to have a seat and let him talk to her, which I was glad to do. A minute later he said she would do it but I should give her another 20 pounds, which I gave to him, and then we left with him saying that we will return in 2 hours to pick it up.

We killed the time drinking tea and looking into more travel destinations for me and about the time to start returning to pick up the card the classic line fooled me once more..."I'm just going to find a toilet. I'l meet you back here."

Fifteen minutes later the realisation of my idiocy was dawning. The man at the cafe I was waiting outside of asked me if I wanted to sit down and I took that as my cue to give up and leave. I decided to go back to the office where we gave the money for the card just in case he had still got the card with the bonus of extra money swindled for himself.

When I got there the girl looked at me and said the same thing as she had said 2 hours before - "you need student proof". I asked her if she had taken any money off my friend earlier and her answer of 'no' confirmed scam number 2.

I certainly wasn't amused as quickly as from scam #1 but considering that it was still only $30 and I had been trying to scam the system anyway, I figured it was karma coming around immediately rather than having to wait for it. Him on the other hand, can enjoy my money until karma, or Allah, catches up with him.

Gallery: Egypt

ellij — Sat, 7 Jun 2008 19:07:00 GMT

Gallery: Elli means turtle in Amharic!!

ellij — Mon, 2 Jun 2008 15:41:00 GMT

24 April - 30 May

Good looking Ethiopia

ellij — Wed, 7 May 2008 17:29:00 GMT

Well the countryside is gorgeous and the people are really well put together as well but just to back track a little... My arrival to Ethiopia was just somewhat challenging with the bus connecting the very isolated and unserviced north of Kenya and the Ethiopian border having broken down some 4 months before yet to be replaced. However, on reassurance of lorry hitching being the common thing, I began to settle into the dingy hotel room until the early hours when the lorries were due to leave Isiolo. It was attributed yet again to my luck by my self appointed guide Willy, a sickly looking man who I avoided making any contact with after out initial handshake, that a one off bus from Nairobi to Moyale at the border was due in Isiolo about 11pm that evening. So after succeeding on getting only a third of money back from the hotel owner I had checked in with just a few hours before, I began the wait in the dusty and somewhat seedy streets with two sisters who were happy to look after me, Anne and Rose. At about 1am and after news that the bus was hours late leaving Nairobi we tried to get some rest in one of the parked buses en route to elsewhere. It was the nice side of such a restless sleep to be awake at 3.30am and able to call Mum for her birthday before she left for work. Needless to say, she did most of the talking. The bus finally arrived at 5am and we had to fight unnecessarily for our available seats to begin the long journey to Marsabit, the half way stop on the 400km journey that took the usual 8 hours in such areas void of MP representatives and thus all infrastructure. My decision to stop in Marsabit and not continue to the border with the bus was continually questioned the following day, but I did enjoy the walk up Marsabit hill (despite the view being compromised by the receiver tower occupying the peak – forgot to mention that one hey Lonely Planet!), which was the reason for breaking up the trip. The town itself was fine along with the company of Rose and Anne who I was happy to buy dinner and drinks for, which they gladly accepted along with my last US$50 without my knowing…I’ll let their God settle that one for me. As the even worse serviced road between Marsabit and the border at Moyale had become victim to the break of the rainy season, transport was even harder to come by as the trade lorries between the two countries were now to heavy to navigate the mud sling that was the main highway. So after waiting all day, the 4WD that was expected from Nairobi arrived and I set off for Ethiopia in the canvassed roofed tray about 4pm squashed between 5 men in 3 seats. The road was stupendously bad. Thick sticky mud had removed itself from the road on the tyres of every passing vehicle leaving ruts half a meter deep for following vehicles to navigate. I lost count of the number of times we got bogged but it was around 6 with me deciding that my more-than-double priced seat earned it’s worth watching the men squelch barefooted shoveling mud with their hands and rocking the car back and forth with attempts at gaining traction. My boots gained an immediate half kilo of mud that one time I had to get out when the car was at 45 degrees to the passenger side. At about 3am and the final bogging the men slept for 2 hours until helped arrived via another traveler to relieve us for the final time. We got to Moyale 8.30am and I set about sleep walking my way across the border. In my lucid state, after the exhaustion of my last days struggling across Kenya’s north and my zero knowledge of the Amharic language, I decided to take on John as my Ethiopian guide until I got used to the place. It was a good decision overall but as he turned into a suffocating babysitter and a ineffective communicator in how we spent my money moving through different regions, the day of releasing him from my employment was overdue. He did however, get me to the beautiful Bale Mountains in the central south of Ethiopia where I immensely enjoyed 3 days of hiking with the much more agreeable Muzeyen, carrying my own equipment and revisiting the independence of hiking without a 1:4 tourist:porter ratio as per more touristy areas.

Gallery: Nairobi

ellij — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 20:15:00 GMT

The challenges of African Immigration

ellij — Mon, 7 Apr 2008 20:13:00 GMT

The day I was trying to avoid 3 weeks ago that not only happened on my birthday but extended for most of the week...

The long and short of it is that the extension of my tourist visa for a month that I and Johnson (orphanage dad) had been told by immigration people would be a free piece of cake and take an hour became a huge process that had
me running between buses, calling in friends of friends, standing outside locked gates, waiting for hours and refusing to pay bribes. Johnson had written me a letter in support of the extension but apparently it was too complex and I was to return the next day with a simplified version.
However, it seems it all become to hard for Johnson and he absolved himself of any responsibilities meaning I would be starting the whole process alone and I just really couldn't be bothered.
All this of course would be expected when thinking of any sort of government process in Africa but the fact that I was continually reassured it wouldn't be the case and that it all happened on my birthday,the expiry date of my visa made it all a bit worse.

So, I am now typing this to you as an illegal within Tanzania and will spend the rest if my day geting my shit packed to head to Kenya on Friday. I was told by the regional imigration officer (who started all this by claiming he had never heard of a tourist visa exension)that as long as I'm at the Kenyan border within a week they won't mind that my visa has already expired (????!!!!) He of course said there is nothing he can provide me with to take to support me so I think i will try and get his number for possible border troubles...

All in all it was a bit of a frustrating and odd day including Dad spelling my name wrong and getting pineapple in my woldorf salad - it's not a savory ingredient people!!! - but it ended ok with us eating chips and chocolate, and making fairy bread and iced biscuit lolly faces. I also had a night out on the weekend with mates drinking and dancing and Denis and his family bought my a yummy cake which i finished off at 5am and woke up with a tummy ache. That also happened on Tuesday night after eating junk food. I think my body had detoxed from eating simple unprocessed foods for 3 months!

I made it to Mombasa, which seems a really nice city on first impressions - nicer than dar Es Salaam - and my border crossing was a nervous exerience but with the best result I could hope for.

A heartbroken and confused middle aged lady that came to the orpahnage a few days before my leaving seemed to trasnfer a bit of her misfortune onto me as after deciding that heading for the border was the best plan, she decided to come with me to Mombasa (where she had just arrived from - yes, a very lost lady). So we bought tickets for Thursday morning and organised an early taxi pickup, whcih failed to show up. On calling a second taxi and several motorbikes that didn't come either we were extremely anxious and pleading with the bus conductor by phone to wait for us at the local stop. What followed was a taxi rally drive (when it finally showed) and a high speed chase (only about 90km/h) down the highway trying to catch the bus who couldn't wait any longer. Alas we missed it.

Daniella's (german lady) desparation to get back to kenya had us contemplating all sorts of connecting buses to leave the same day but as I had decided to sacrifice going to a concert of my favourite Tanzanian hip hopper to get to the border asap, I took it as sign I was meant to attend and opted to book a bus for the next day and try again. Daniella decided to head stratight for nairobi and the airport for a flight home, which i prefrred also as her story, although unfotunate and tragic and i am sympathetic, dominated her converstaion and seemed to be affecting my feelings and fortunes also.

Catching the bus from the main station in town after the concert the night before, the taxi driver who did the high speed chase for us the day before promised to be on time the next morning so Tamara (Sydney girl) could bring my luggage to our local stop for me to get on the way through. About 20 minutes from that stop she called me to say the driver hadn't turned up and after numerous failed motorbike pickups, my bags were now on the back of the nieghbours bicycle in the pouring rain. It was a nervous 20 minutes to the stop not knowing if my bags were going to be there or not and I might have to abort my border mission yet again but thankfully they were there and I was glad to be out of there leaving a bad week behind me with just the hurdle to the border crossing to go.

Denis had advised me to head for a male immigartion officer when exiting Tanzania but unfortunately I got a female and once she notice my visa had expired 5 days before hand she referred me too her boss who was also female, so charms were put aside and story telling began with the threat of a $US400 fine looming.

The long and short of it was that I tried to convince them my visa was set to be extended until a plethora of compeltely differnt advice was received, inlcuding that I should not have been at the orphanage on a tourist visa at all and being told by the regional immigation boss that if I got to the border within a week of it's expiry, it wouldn't be a problem. Ha! With a bit of help from the pressure of the bus condutor wanting us to keep going, the disgruntled ladies stamped my passport and flicked it back to me disapprovingly. I was humble in my thanks and feel pretty sure they havn't backlisted me for future return.

So now I've been enjoying some fine hospitality from a couch surfer and his family with 2 cute babies (slight compensation for my vacated position of Summer's (Emily's baby) aunty), even providing some advice about options for managing the flow of water that floods their land in the wet.

Gallery: La No Che Orphanage and my birthday

ellij — Mon, 7 Apr 2008 19:31:00 GMT

Gallery: Wider Tanzania

ellij — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 02:30:00 GMT

Places and friends

Zanzibar living

ellij — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 20:51:00 GMT

Back to School

I decided while i was hangaing around Zanzibar waiting for the 4 day music festival to arrive, I would be productive and take Swahili lessons. I took private lessons at the Sate University of Zanzibar from mwalimu (teacher) Hassan 3-4 hours/day, US$6/hour. It was good to be learning again and so intensively. The language came thick and fast and expectedly, was quite overwhelming not being sure if last weeks lesson had sunk in before piling on another set of rules. Despite learning everyday. It took a good 2 weeks before I could really put together a sentence that resembled what I wanted to say. Now I feel my listening is much improved to understanding, which does wonders for conversation.

Family and Home

After Wiebke left I found a local couch surfer (an internet site connecting travellers with locals) who had a one room place. It seemed fine but before the day was out her bosses, who knew her place, offered me some student accomodation that had a kitchen, common room and a 3rd floor bedroom meant for 6 but all for me for US$6/night. It was all great with an ocaen view and enough room to swing a cat whilst doing yoga, until talking to Mwalimu who set me up with a host family so I could become saturated with Swahili. Even though it was a 15min walk to town rather than 5min, I began living with my Zanzibari family for US$15/night including 3 meals and no chores. I lived with my mama, her son and daughter and her 3 grandkids. More often than not there was also other men staying there who I often got confused about how fit in.

The food was good overall but as expected, dominated by carbohydrates. All sorts of breads for breakfast along with an egg and mango, rice and beans, potatoes and cassava (root veg) and a bit of meat for lunch, and more bread for tea. As exepected, regaular exercise is hard to maintain and the fitness and muscle definition achieved for mountain climbing has unfortunately subsided somewhat.

Being a Muslim

Zanzibar is a conservative Muslim place and all the women are always well covered, inlcuding many long layers and heads. Wanting to respect their culture as much as possible, I always wore at least t-shirts, long skirts or pants and sometimes even a head scarf, which often doubled nicely as sun protection. I couldn't decide if dressing with respect to the locals abated male attention or not but it definatley made me feel more comfortable looking the women in the eye and appreciation was evident. Days when I made particular effort reminded me of dress up days in primary school. For comfort as well as respectful muslim outfit choice, I bought a ndira, which is sort of like a mumu except their not meant for fat people, and a khanga, which is 2 lengths of patterned material, 1 worn like a sarrong and the other as a head covering. There are many nice ones to choose from and they a all have different sayings running along the bottom.

Men

I think a combintaion of the conservative muslim culture of Zanzibar plus the normal attraction to the different look and assumed opportunities of Western women, have Zanzibari men fairly desaparate. Besides the normal touts that engage you in converstation tyring to sell whatever, locals are quick to befriend you whether mutual or not.

Drinks and Food

Zanzibar still with Wiebke

ellij — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 02:48:00 GMT

My indulgence in Wiebke's cashews at the beginning of the ferry trip over to Zanzibar resulted in feelings of nausea and heading out the back for air. It was here I realised the cool fresh ocean breeze I'm used to from back home was, well, back home. I did feel better but barely in the sauna-like air compared to what i was expecting whilst ocean cruising, and was soon back inside watching the most 'Lost' I ever have.

We were lucky enough to arrive on Zanzibar with just a few days to spare before the famous Forodhani Gardens were fenced off for revamping. This is the foreshore area where a million stalls of sugar cane juice, cut fruit and tables absolutley packed with seafood prepared and ready for consumption were spread each complete with their respective 'papasi' (literally parasite) touts. I was looking interested seafooding it up and was of course pounced on within 3 minutes and taken to a table where I was to being choosing my dinner dish by dish. The question of 'How much?' was worked around craftily by my practised tout and i soon had a plate of various seafood in front of me with a Tsh12000 price tag. Realisation of being ripped off was immediate but inexperince loses that far along and there was little I could do. Having been surrounded by local men before our bums hit the rickety benches, we were soon having 3 different conversations at once, each, not including to each other. All harmless, some extremly boring (Wiebke got a stoned one)and a couple, insightful. After talking to one guy whilst eating my expensive market stall seafood, I began asking him how much he would pay as a local for what I had on my plate. Previous eagerness to talk faded and was replaced with pregnant pauses and cop outs of not knowing. He didn't have to side step for long as the guy sitting next to him but with his back to the table spun around to begin a challenge. It was the guy who hjad sold me my meal and was watching my eating progress to secure payment when finished. What followed was his defence rant about hard working fisherman, increased oil prices and families needing support. Having been resigned to paying the Tsh12000 from before I started eating, I handed over his money stating that I knew he ripped me off as a tourist and that was his job but he will be the only Forodhani stall I'd be paying that much too.

We spent the next 2 days wandering around exploring Stone Town and getting lost, which is mostly the point, and taking a spice tour. Eager to start checking out all the postcard beaches we visited the closest to town Fuji beach and found that bikinis are just not the way to have a nice time. Shorts and t-shirt make for a much more relaxing time for the local men and thus for yourself. Whilst wandering Stone Town, we bumped into Sandrine and Vincent the French couple we safaried with. A nice suprise of course and my first introduction as to how small Stone Town really is but we knew they were destined for Zanzibar after safari, as is with most tourists in the country.

Meeting the next morning at the spice tour office, we were waiting for all the tourists to arrive when along came Sandrine and Vincent again. We were to spend this tour together as well. The Spice tour was really interesting as we went out to the spice farms and got shown all the different trees and ways the spices are cultivated - cinnamon quills being rolled from the bark and tandoori coming from a pretty looking furry nut. After a delicious local lunch of pilau rice and spinach cookied in coconut milk (water never again!!) we visited the cave where slaves were imprisoned before being shipped off to various locations around the world after is was made illegal in the ealry 1900s. The infamous Dr Livingston (I presume you've heard of him. Hehe) was largely responsible for ending the slave trade but died just a few months prior to it being legislated. We then went to Mangapwani beach before heading for a fresh coconut drink and to Chuini to stay with Wiebke's mate Ally. Wiebke and I both had fairly adverse memories and expectations of drinking coconut milk - mine from being 8 in Thailand and finding it's richness and transparency all too much to bear. Milk is white and that's all there was to it. However, this time around wasn't as bad as we thought and we got through 2/3 of one between us, mostly enjoying the flesh which is peeled of the inside with a little jimmy like thing.

Being dropped off in Chuini, we were told there was no address but just to cross the raod from the big tree and ask at the shop for Ally's in-laws. We were graciously received at the one bech stall and personally escorted to Ally's with calls of "mzungu" the whole way. It was a relaxing 3 days getting up to some cooking mischief and generally hanging out with Ally and bub Shammy and her other sister-in-laws and husband Feruz.

Gallery: Goodbye to me!

ellij — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 03:20:00 GMT

Drinks at The Loft

Safari Days

ellij — Thu, 7 Feb 2008 19:34:00 GMT

The next planned activity of safari (translates as 'journey') was planned before the mountai climb with who we decied was the most reptuable company in Moshi - we were wrong. Due to meet the company organiser Shanel, who Wiebke tagged as an Afican want-to-be Latin lover, the day before at Springlands, we began to worry when he rocked up obviously drunk and barely comprehending anything we had to ask or say. There were certain aspects of the 3 days that we were determined to confirm as stories go that different groups are put together all being given different deals. Our main concern was camping on the edge of the Ngorongoro Crater on the second night rather than a hotel and Shanel lolled his head in confirmation.

The next morning we failed to hear the alarm so missed out on breakfast but luckily Shanel's hangover favoured us in his half and hour late arrival to pick us up. This however, meant the most crazy African driving (and it's pretty crazy reagrdless) all the way to Arusha where the safari began. It became less stessful just to look out the window rather than the windscreen and what was coming ahead on whatever side of the road. We met the other couple to join us who had been waiting for a good 2 hours and then had to deal with the issue of paying. Thanks to our instincts on Shanel's dodginess, we hadn't offered any money hoping to use it as security against what we were promised. When asked for payment by a man (who seemed more reliable than Shanel) for cash, up to the total of about Tsh300 000 each, we mustered the story of our credit cards having daily limits and that we would have to pay half before and the other half at the end. Our barganing chip had come through and was significantly strengthend by the fact that Shanel had failed to mention the need for cash payment and the recongnition of his drunkeness by this fellow. Obviously not the first time. Way to run a business Shanel! We were happy to never see him again. So we set off finally joined by a Fench couple, Sandrine and Vincent and Toby the Swiss. We were careful define Toby from Wiebke's lip balm that she had bought while changing flights in Zurich who we also referred to as 'the Swiss'.

Heading to Lake Manyara National Park, we stopped off at a hotel where we were camping, as specifically defined with Shanel, on the lawn. We kicked back by the pool waiting for lunch but not wanting to swim in the obviously long-stagnant water enjoying the humidity after the cold oxygen-depleted air of the mountain. It was then that Wiebke noticed a leaf that was moving against the wind current on the water. Toby rescued the little bat, who was swimming quite well but still seemed exhausted and imobile on the side. To our amazement thought, when starting to move about again, it headed back into the pool. After a second rescue deciding lengths of the pool wasn't the bat's desired activity, we found a ledge in the pool shed for it to recuperate on. On our return later that afternoon, it was on the ground dead. Maybe bats are like kangaroos who go into the ocean to die?? Lake Manyara NP is part of the rift valley that runs the entire length of the continent, 10 000km long. The vast majority of it is lake but the surrounding bush is quite dense adding to our suprise of spotting elephants standing amoungst the bushes and giraffes feeding on the canopies over the road. I thought the elephants would be my greatest excitment but having never seen a giraffe in real life before, they thrilled me much more. All very docile in front of the ever present tourist, the animals were very close and appeared relaxed. We learned giraffes get darker as they get older, have 3 ways of walking and that females have tufts of hair on their horns where as males don't. To top it off, they have the most apt name in Kiswahili, twiga. Definatley a fav.

Day 2 was down into the Ngorongoro Crater and the best day out of the 3. The site of a sunken volcano, it is 20km in diameter and sustains a large variety of birds and animals who have little reason to ever leave. The flat clear bottom meant that animals could be spotted from a way off as well as the grouping of 4WDs around something of interest. Herds of zebras intermingled with the Masai cows, who are allowed to share the land under government agreement. We were lucky enough to see a couple of cheetahs hunting gazelle and 4 lionesses stalking a zebra. We also saw a rare black rhino from farway meaning the only animal missing from the notorious 'Big 5' for us was the leopard. The others are elephant, buffalo, rhino and lion. The scenery in the crater is superb but while lunching at one of the picturesque lakes, we had to remain inside the car due to the predatory kites that will dive and swipe whatever you've got, obviously causing some talon damage in the process.

We also had quite a time with a opportunistic black faced monkey, commonly called blue balled monkey by tourists, as they are as obvious as their black face. With another opportunity to dis Shanel, our 4WD continued to have problems through out the safari giving our guide the extra duty of bush mechanic including a flat tyre on the way out. Whilst hanging around watching our guide try different methods to make the jack high enough to support the car, an observant monkey leapt up and into the car through the open rooftop and stole left over lunch items, twice and almost 3 times. It was in and out so quickly it was amazing how fast it found the food - just once bouce. On the third go, Toby had decided to refuse it entry from inside the car, first thinking his prescence would be enough. When the monkey held it's ground and began screaming and swiping, Toby had to revert to sitting back and kicking the air to try and dissuade it, the monkey son giving up in the face of his boot. Wiebke got it on video and we watched it in amusement a number of times.

We were soon back out on the crater rim and saying goodbye to the other 3 who were heading back to Arusha, whilst we got our promised camping on the crater rim along with about 100 other tourists including a group of Aussie school girls - Narrogin SHS didn't offer those excursions. While it was all very boring being amoung well-beaten track goers, Wiebke focused on an unwanted brush with wildlife through the warning we'd received not to have any food inside our tent. After hearing this she was completely paranoid and referred to the attack of the wild pig, which later changed to hyena, coming and helping ourselves to our things and us. Through the night we both definately heard non-human movements outside which we never actually confirmed for us whether wildlife or Maasi cows.

After being ready at the appointed time and waiting a substantial time after this for our obviously cool-but-not-collected guides, we headed off to Tanangire NP. Here, we left the cool mountains and forest and explored the dry and dusty plains rife with massive boboab trees baboons, giraffes and elephants. The giraffes were still a defnate highlight for me as was the lucky encounter of a family of elephants complete with little tyke, crossomg the road meters from us. We learned that elephants have great suspension in their feet so you can barely hear them moving. I wondered at our guides inference as I couldn't fathom who or what an elephant would want to creep up on and thought it proably more to do with the load that their four feet are carrying. But who am I to question. Any clues Tes?

By far the most memorable thinga bout the day happened at lunch time and it wasn't the discovery of a red banana in our lunch. We had been warned about the agressive baboons that hung around looking for easy human food. However, barely after sitting down a large male baboon came bounding towards us and over the table. After the event, we decided that the big boy had picked it's victim well in Wiebke who was niether that hungry nor bound to defend her lunch from such a creature even if she were. Our boxes of food had been placed on the table but I managed to swipe mine up quickly whereas Wiebke barely got fingers back to hers before the baboon was off with his prize. We squealed of course and then laughed and then watched as other tourists stalked the baboon with cameras to where he was sitting a little way off getting into the glad wrap. All over the baboons were hanging around on tables, going through rubbish and empty cardboard lunch boxes trying to the fast easy feed. I was not impressed and would like to see the Park management do something to control the situation for the baboons good as well as the tourists. In that I mean getting tourists more aware of the scavaging problem and realise that leaving an empty box on the table in order to get a good photo of a pouncing baboon doesn't display much thought, levelling their intelligence with that tghe baboon obviously has in forcing the opportunity on sweet German friends of mine.

On finishing the safari we returned to Arusha where we were happy to pay the rest of the cost and farewell the organised part of our holiday. We wandered down the street market for dinner trying corn on the cob and roasted cassava (bit like potato in the shape of a sweet potato), which we had seen all over the country since arriving cooking on portable road side fires. We had a great time buying our first market produce and devoured the best tasting carrot and avacado ever.

The next day was up at 5am to catch the bus to Dar es Salam. We were told that if you were heir early enough to claimed a seat, it would be yours for the journey regardless of your ticket. Alas, Arushian buses have more structure than first thought and we were told to revert to our ticketed seats in the middle of the back row. Flying down the aisle on sudden breaking seemed evident. The ride was extremely squashy and bumpy, the bus stifiling until forcing the window when it was then blasting and the short lunch time almost leaving us behind but we made it in time to get ripped off on the final ferry ticket over to Zanzibar. Although Wiebke, the price we paid has been comparative to other muzungu prices I've heard. Welcome to the island beaches and see breezes!

Gallery: 3 Day Safari

ellij — Sun, 3 Feb 2008 02:20:00 GMT

Lake Manyara, Ngorogoro Crater and Tarangire NP

Gallery: The mountain

ellij — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 18:04:00 GMT

Climbing Kilimanjaro

Climbing the mountain

ellij — Sat, 26 Jan 2008 19:38:00 GMT

Well finally I'm getting to entering some details about African adventure so far. Almost four weeks after first setting out for Uhuru Peak I will now attempt to give a retrospective account of all it's glory.

Wiebke and I reunited in Dar Es Salaam about 9.30pm on New Years Eve and promptly embarked to find somewhere to see in 2008. We were successful at a local bar and had 2 types of decent local beer infront of us at about 11.55pm. Not keeping a close eye on the time ourselves, we became aware it was time to hug when the group next to us started making above-converstaion noise and embracing. So we kissed each other and dwelled in the happy time for a few minutes before getting back to whatever we had been discussing, stopping only for the interuptions of drunken locals trying to sway us into engaing with them. Unfortunately for them, we were way to engaged with each other. After maybe only 2 beers each we headed back to the YMCA around the corner at a tame 2am. Tame,indeed but still extremely memorable.

The next day was spent exploring the local city streets, which were mostly uneventful due to the public holiday but we did get a taste of what was to come with regards to touts attracted to muzungus - Swahili for white person. We learned a few words and had a good time catching the local buses called daladalas back to the airport. At a cost of 600 Tanzanian Shillings each,(still haven't shaken colonialism entirely) including 300 for each of our packs the pumping betas and freindly locals beat the US$20 taxi ride hands down. We boarded the plane headed for Kilimanjaro via Zanzibar, which we found out as buckling our seat belts for take off. This was no major problem adding only 20 minutes to the flying time. What was memorable was the complete lack of announcement made by flight crew that the Zanzibar landing was iminent and was brought to my attention by Wiebke's gasp who saw the ground rapidly approaching out the window seconds before touchdown. A smooth landing soon had us laughing about the overlooked information to passengers, which was improved on our landing in Kilimanjaro with a succinct "Welcome to Kilimanjaro - the airport", just in case one may mistake our landing for being on the mountain side.

Preparations for the climb were spent at the quite luxurious Springlands Hotel and wandering around Moshi, the not-quite-so-quaint mountain town but never the less enjoyable. That afternoon we meet Freddy who was to be our guide up to the peak, and he managed to calm out nerves somewhat but activities of sorting and packing were still happening late into the evening.

After a 3 or so hour drive to the base of the mountain and the beginning of the Lemosho route, day one was a gorgeous climb through the rainforest complete with mud bath and colobus monkeys. Our driver revelled in the 4wd challenge giving us thrills similar to that of your average royal show rollercoaster even sending fellow climbers racing ahead and diving to the side to avoid a mud drenching. That evening, Freddy gave us options of 6 hour walks for days 2 and 3 to give us a shorter climb on summit day rather than doing the hard yards when fatigue and the peak were looming. Thus, day 2 began with some serious hills and got us above the tree line by lunch time. We skipped past Shira 1 camp after lunch and endured rain to make camp at Shira 2, which looked down on the seemingly much larger, Moshi.

Day 3 was acclimatisation day and my toughest by far. We left Shira 2 at about 3300m asl heading for the peak for the day, Lava Tower at 4600m asl. On this day, our comparably private and intimate Lemosho route joined with a few of the other routes interrupting our mountain serenity as the tops of neighbouring ridges brought ant-like lines of porters (mostly - porter:climber ratio ~ 4:1)and climbers towards Barranco Camp. The ascent to the Lava Tower was fine after eating a substantial lunch, leaving me just a little light headed and needing to take care when taking in the surroundings performing a 360 degree turn with my feet rather than the normal use of one's head ball joint. Freddy decided our descent back down to 3600m was prime time to familiarise ourselves with our walking poles, which while still feeling prominently unco-ordinated with our extra limbs, Wiebke amusingly but rightly commented on them making her 'feel more important.' Our way down had the vegetation revive the barren landscape above 4000m, giving way to great looking Dr Suse-like trees and floral shrubs, niceities I couldn't fully embrace due to my on coming moutain sickness, which was much like a nasty hangover. Having rested for a good couple of hours, dinner was announced while my tummy was still much like a ball of old fishing line. Sitting at the table being unable to imagine food of any sort being appealing, our waiter Benjamin (yes, introducing porter #3, designated food server)brought in a strong smelling leek soup. I should say at this point that the food on the climb was highly satisfatory overall, ranging from eggs, porridge and fruit for breakfast, yummy soups and somosas for lunch and flavoured meat, salads and pastas for dinner. Wiebke had been finding the food more and more salty as the meals passed by which seemed to be the trend for the leek soup presented on day 3 - it wasn't just me being super sensitive. However, one whiff and the familar feeling of watery mouth and involuntary stomach movements gave me the cue to exit our dining tent, head for the nearest bush, aim and throw up the afteroon cups of tea and peanuts. I felt much better, as usual post chunder, and Wiebke said I was very professional in the whole process. Says something about the worth of my drinking habits, hey Dad?! Freddy consoled me saying it was completely normal and I would be fine in the morning. "Don't think about summit day" he reinforced to us several times. Ha! nerves were definately kicking in, which I was blatanly aware of during the night when getting up for the toilet and reeling with the view of dark mountain looming over me. Management was to get in contact with the ground and horizontal again as quick as the tent zips would allow me.

Day 4 began with a cliff climb up Barranco Wall. It was quite a sight looking up at the line of porters and climbers at variuos heights up the cliff. Their voices echoed loudly and was honestly a bit annoying as groups decided it was fun to hear their own echo, which was deafaning for us and a bit concerning with any dislodging of rocks headed fairly directly for our breakfast tent. Some tourists...sheesh. Although a bit of a scramble, climbing the wall was fun and not too strenous at all with many rest opportunities at the tricky ups, having to wait in line for each before beinf able to pass. A breathtaking view at the top soon had us refreshed for the 3 hour or so walk to Karanga Campsite, which we reached about lunch time. The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing - me finally returning the massage favour Wiebke had bestowed back at Shira 2 - and trying not to stress about summit day. The original plan, which is the most common strategy, is to walk from Karanga to Barafu Camp (only about 3 hours) and camp and rest until middnight at which time the summit ascent is done in the dark in time to reach the top for sunrise. Freddy's options were presented during dinner - rather than lazing the next day, sleeping in and getting to Barafu (after a few Kiswahili lessons, i now know this means ice - eek!) sometime in the afternoon, we could get their by mid morning and then have a few hours rest to then continue on to the summit for sunset! He told us that the main reason for guides beginning their summit climb at middnight was so the daunting heights of the summit above were hidden with darkness. "Hakuna mata" he says, we are strong enough to overcome this and do it in day light. The main advantage of this strategy was avoiding the cold temperatures of the night climb, which adds a lot of discomfort as going is slow (especially when the whole climbing population of Barafu is along side you) and further stops are required in order to revive your feet back to life. So, after not too much deliberation we decide to go for it. Summit day is now just one sleep away!

Waking with apprehension of course on our summit day one day earlier than expected, we were pretty organised and for the first time on the whole climb and the first people to leave the camp. The first hour was a moderate but long climb above Karangu camp and we were still looking down on the camp slowly coming to life when stopping for our first drink break. On reaching the top of the hill we could see a valley below us and the other side another steep cliff wall on the top of which, was Barafu. Feeling strong and deciding that the pacing of my body was going well with still no muscle pain on the trip yet, we reached the camp being nervous but confident and negotiating the depature time with Freddy to give us a very decent rest time, which in hindsight, was a little too long.

We set off for the summit and to our plesant suprise found that not only Freddy but Benjamin and Hussein were joining us as support team. This they ceratinly did breaking into song and teaching us to count in Swahili within the first 2 hours, which in hindsight was a bit premature. At 5000m asl, we were both still feeling pretty healthy with slight headaches and light headed feelings and me needing to concentrate on relaxing my tummy much the same as when I've been stuck on a Rottnest ferry with no outside access. A mantra which I developed quite quickly and i have to thank for a lot of my overall enjoyment of the climb was from the Hilltop Hoods early song "Left Foot, Right Foot", which rang in my head with each step, even when the left was moving on "right", vice versa and when my steps had slowed so much that two steps was timed to "left foot". I'm yet to email Hilltops to let them know :) At about 5400m, Wiebke's mountain sickness started to take hold and really affect her enjoyment of the last 2 hours of the climb with a bad headache and then with slowing speed, also getting colder and colder as the setting sun continued to leave us more in the mountain's shadow. I didn't really know what to do as I watched her discomfort growing and I was breathing easy, feeling strong and energetic to get to the top ASAP. We decided looking back, it should have been at this point that Freddy, Benjamin and Hussien sang us songs and had us count in Swahili to keep our minds off the pain of having no air to breathe. On top of Wiebke's pain was the frustration at the failure of the little instant heat packs she'd bought and we saw littered all the way up the mountain. Alas, we made it. A super steep climb to Stella Point and a more gradual climb up to the sign of Uhuru Peak that we could now see. Total climbing time was about 6 hours and we arrived just after 6 with half an hour or so to enjoy the peak all to our selves before sun down and freezing temperatures. Unfortuantely, I spent alot of this time trying to figure out how to send the free text messages to you all, offered through the intense competition of the phone companies over here. There is reception everywhere, literally. However, my best friends at Vodafone (ha!) had me locked to Australia even using an African sim card and you all had to go without an Africa Rooftop message :( We did snap away however, enjoying the lonely peak. This was another main advantage of clibing when we did as the normal sunrise arrival time aparently has climbers lining up waiting to get their picci with the sought after sign, and there we were posing in various ways and exploring the peak to the upmost. It felt very special. The contrast between the fine dark brown volcanic soils and stark white glistening glaciers was awesome, especially in the fading light but I'm sure our photos didn't catch it so you'l just have to take my word for it - der :)

The descent wasn't quite as painful as the ascent but I still didn't enjoy it as much. The beginning was fun, practically running and sliding half a meter with each step into the gravel but the novelty didn't last and tired muscles and mind started to lose concentration more often and balance and coordination increasingly wavered. Dust created from our sliding steps coated us a lovely mountain gravel tan and made breathing hard and eyes irritated. It took what seemed for ever, about 2.5 hours, and I was convinced a number of times that we had lost our way in the darkness. With everyone already in bed in preparation for climbing at middnight, their were barely any lights at Barafu camp and dark shadows plus my imagination had me plumeting to the bottom off a cliff side. We finally arrived however and scrambled straight into sleeping bags without food, water or washing. Excitment of having successfully completed our mission for the time being, had no choice but to take a back seat to absolute exhaustion.

A pair crusty but proud-as-punch climbers woke on Day 5 to a big breakfast and still little to no muscle pain. Feeling weary but happy to ignore it, we were again provided with a choice to head for the forest floor and a shower by late afternoon rather than camp another night. Despite the downwards direction beginning to stress our knees and leg muscles, on reaching Mwaeke campsite at midday, we decided to lunch there and continue on to the desirables of running water and beer at ye ol' Springlands hotel. We were duely rewarded when reintroducing our clean selves to the world and meeting 3 Canadians who were due to start their climb in the coming days. We were more than happy to continue the transfer of information from pre to post-climbers as had been done before our climb, whilst gleefully reminiscing over the pleasures and pains of our unforgettable friend, Mount Kilimanjaro.

The next 2 dats before our safari began were spent doing very relaxing things, slowly. Sore muscles had finally caught up with us due to hammering down the entire mountain in one day. Thighs and calf muscles were very sore and in treating ourselves to a massage, put ourselves through quite a bit more discomfort in the aim of future comfort. By the end of 3 day safari we were both walking normally again.

Gallery: Zanzibar Island

ellij — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 04:20:00 GMT

People, places and activities