Victoria Falls

Hello! I apologize for not updating this blog in a long time. It won’t be so long a wait until the next installment. Please e-mail me and complain if it is; get me writing! The following update is from a trip I took in April to Zambia. I have since finished the school year and then went to the Netherlands for 5 days. After that I went back to the states for 3 weeks then came back to Tanzania with my cousin and hiked Mount Kilimanjaro followed by safari in Kenya. Those stories and pictures will come soon! Enjoy this adventure; I sure did!

April Break

Wednesday, March 31^st 8:00 a.m. – I get a head cold. Just great! Now I can’t go diving in Zanzibar on Friday like planned. Now what will I do for Easter break?!

At lunch the same day: I have always wanted to see Victoria Falls. Flights are expensive, but I could take the bus; it’s only a 30 hour ride. It would save me a lot of money too. Wait. 30 hours? I’ll need a few books….

5:00 p.m: ok, that bus line is no longer in service. Fantastic. What now? I’m still moody because all I want to do is dive. Flights are around $700.00 so that’s out. The train takes is less reliable than our government and that’s saying something…. oh heck, maybe I should just go to Lushoto which is a few hours north and do some hiking. But it is rainy season. That could be bad.

7:00 p.m: I found a one way flight from Lusaka, Zambia to Dar for less than $200.00. I wonder if I could take the train there and fly back. This train sounds pretty sketchy though….am I comfortable traveling somewhere alone? Oh yeah, I’ve never solo traveled before. Well, they speak English as a national language in Zambia so that’s good. And I do live in Africa, so it’s not going to be so new. hmmm…ok, now I just need to try and get a train ticket.

Thursday, April 1^st 10:00 a.m. – I’ve got to work all day so I asked my friend Tema if she knows of anyone who can go to the train station to get my ticket. She sends someone and a few hours later I’ve got the train ticket in hand. Wow—this is really happening! I leave tomorrow! Now I just need to get home and buy that plane ticket.

3:00 p.m. – WHY is our internet out now of all times?! I can’t buy the plane ticket over the phone either. Ok, I’ll keep trying this afternoon; I’m sure the internet will come back soon.

10:00 p.m. – bedtime. I’m not yet packed either because I don’t know what the weather will be like. Still no internet. I don’t leave until noon, so I hope it’s back on in the morning. I can’t leave without first securing a plane ticket back. It is, after all, it’s the only plane that leaves from there to Dar in four days, so if I don’t get it I’ll be stuck.

Friday, April 2^nd 7:00 a.m. – I opened the front door and found a cross created from a palm frond from a friend. What a perfect time to pause and reflect on the ultimate gift that is Palm Sunday.

8:00 a.m. – Still no internet. Ok, time for my emergency action plan. I called Mom and woke her up. She got on the internet and I walked her through buying the ticket for me….and checking the weather. Thanks Momma for coming to the rescue again! This is the first she has heard of the trip and knows I’m traveling alone too. Yeah, like she can go back to sleep peacefully now! A few hours later she called me back with other stuff she found when researching. Oh man, I should have maybe called Sis, at least then Momma would have gotten a full night’s sleep!

1:00 p.m.- The cab dropped me at the train station, which was a building of absolute chaos. Terror struck me when I saw the throngs of people trying to get into the station. Why did I come by myself? Someone is SO going to mug me right now. Deo (cabbie), don’t leave me! He came to my rescue for probably the 100^th time since I’ve lived in Dar; he got out of the car and pushed me through the masses to the front of the line and into the station. As I wandered slowly through the large, filled station in an attempt to find out where I was to go, I got that sense of being under a microscope, that feeling that accompanies me often here. I looked around and could tell that I had the unfortunate pleasure of being the object of all 500 people’s attention. I knew I was a bit lost and they did too, quite amusingly I believe. Finally, a few soles pointed me in the right direction, then a few more pointed me to doors for a room who’s sign read ‘First Class Waiting Area’. Ah yes, I’m so easily figured out here. As I sat in the waiting area, the Jesus film was being played on the television. I got to enjoy my own personal Palm Sunday service in a train station waiting area in Tanzania; He truly is the God of all people and places!

The train departed at 2:00 for it’s LONG journey to Kapiri Mposhi, Zambia. I’m supposed to arrive on Sunday night, but we’ll see; I have high doubt. I shared a cabin with 3 people; 2 Yugoslavians who were living in Nairobi and a South African woman traveling on holiday. They seem to be lovely travel companions and I say a quick word of thanks to God that they are clean, have no children, rancid odors, stinky food (so far), or animals with them. Ok, maybe this won’t be so bad!

The cabin is small but cleanish; my standards for cleanliness have certainly changed since living in Africa. I pretend not to notice all of the little cockroaches scurrying about. I am quite glad I brought my own pillow and sleep sack as those provided me are looking quite questionable. Picture this--- never washed hotel quilts on a train in 100 degree heat with people using them day in and day out as they travel. Yeah, thoroughly grossed out yet? Me too. After short introductions, my travel companions were ready to hit up the train car that had the bar. After reassuring them that no, I really didn’t want to go even though we could get someone to lock our cabin door, they left and a sense of calm and tranquility finally washed over me. I had been so stressed out the last few days and now I was finally here. It was happening and I was filled with anticipation about the mysteries that lied ahead.

Experience living and traveling in developing countries has taught me a few big lessons of travel. 1) wipes are essential 2) always bring plenty of toilet paper 3) bring enough food for a couple of days; sometimes you can’t find [edible] food (yes, this one I had to learn the hard way) 4) have plenty of reading material; things move slower in these places. Being fully equipped, I began what ended up being the most relaxing 56 hours of my entire life; I have NEVER been so sedentary! I literally got up to go to the bar for some water once, to the bathroom, and to the dining car for one meal (which by the way was the best fried chicken I’ve ever had—I don’t want to know how old the grease was!). Other than that, I stayed either sitting or lying on my bench in the cabin. It was amazing! I caught up on all of the sleep I’d been lacking and read 3 novels, not to mention enjoyed some breathtaking scenery!

The cabin had a large window that was held open by a large stick…to begin with. About half way through the journey I leaned out of the window to take a scenic look, subsequently knocking the stick out. The one ton pane of glass fell with the force of a charging elephant, landing precisely in the middle of my neck. Hearing the cracking sound and feeling the instantaneous pain made me wonder what detrimental, if not permanent damage I had done to my already problematic neck.

With my head and arms hanging out the window and the rest of my body inside and on top of the table on which I had been laying I was completely stuck. I flailed my arms and legs like a fish out of water, attempting to get out of this compromising position. My arms could not reach backwards to lift up the window and it was too heavy to lift with my neck, which was throbbing. After a brief moment of self-composure, I did what anyone in this position would do: I yelled for help! Hearing my desperate pleas, the passenger in the neighboring berth poked his head out of his window to investigate. Seeing the predicament I was in made his eyes protrude and face scrunch up in horror. He heroically came to my rescue and walked inside to open the window, thus freeing me from my makeshift guillotine. I think the man assumed I was a walking disaster; he escaped back to his berth nearly before I could mutter an embarrassing thank you. Taking no chances on prolonged future pain, I popped a couple muscle relaxants and a handful of pain relievers then took yet another nap. This did indeed help the side effects, but the massive bruise that covered the back of my neck was quite a battle scar.

My car was second to last of the entire train. This train had been built sometime in what seemed to be the 1950s and hadn’t been maintained since then. The amount of sheer bounce where cars were connected bordered on amusement park status; I didn’t know this ride came with my ticket purchase. Walking from one car to another was tricky business; one had to stand at the edge, waiting for just the right moment to take the running leap across the great divide that separated your safety from complete annihilation. As it were, the bathroom was situated right at this junction, so my second ‘adventure’ of this trip commenced during these trips.

Imagine a room not much larger than an airplane bathroom, but instead of having a proper toilet, it’s a 50 year old metal pot with a hole down to the tracks. Even more, there is no toilet paper (thank God for mine), but instead a 5 gallon bucket is half filled with water (the other half is all over the floor) and a plastic cup. In addition, the amount of bounce and shake is so strong that your leg muscles are in constant contraction. Any moment you know you’re going to slip and fall into the ‘toilet’ hole as many before you have obviously done. And something to hold on to? one wall—not even a place for both hands. Needless to say, I would have rather had a tree.

The train track was elevated slightly above the tree line, so most of the views were looking down onto the trees and out into the countryside. The recent rains brought plants to life; the sweeping panorama glistened in tones of green like emeralds in a jeweler’s display. The newness of life and the signs of spring encouraged internal contemplation of my rebirth through Christ; what a wonderful Easter weekend it was! The sporadic rain coupled with the mountain altitude left a chill in the air that was required me to pull out a jacket and scarf—what a treat!

The track traveled through a national park for a couple of hours. Here the scenery changed a bit; there were no large, faraway scenes. These were more intimate, an intrusive journey through the habitat of the local safari animals. The giraffes, zebra, gazelles, antelopes, and warthogs paid no attention as the train trudged through their back yard. It was an exciting reality check as to where I am when I get out of the city and see safari animals out the train window! The handiwork and creativity of THE creator leaves me in awe! Be sure to check out my pictures (Out the Train Window link below) to see just a glimpse of the beauty!

On afternoon as we were traveling through an especially scenic area I pulled myself away from my ‘cave’ and ventured to the drink/snack car; its full sized windows on both sides allowed for optimal viewing. The potentially blissful enjoyment was unfortunately ruined by the horrendous intrusion of American hip-hop music videos on the two televisions. What a horrid juxtaposition of natural beauty and man-made art form. As I sat back and observed the Tanzanian travelers watching these music videos, it made me wonder what kind of opinions Tanzanians and Africans in general have toward the American gangster, rapper lifestyle that they see on tv. Although they know nothing of him, Tanzanians are huge fans of Obama; they see him a representation of themselves, as an African making it in the white man’s world. I wonder if they have the same sense of respectful admiration for the likes of Usher, Beyonce, and P-Diddy. Hmmm….I need to think about who I can speak with to get an answer to this one…

On Saturday night, after about 30 hours of travel, the train arrived in Mbeya, which is the half way point and is the border city of Tanzania and Zambia. It was here that I bid farewell to my traveling companions and was left as the sole occupant of my berth. As a cleaner came in to collect their trash, etc. I began chatting with her. After mentioning that I was a teacher and live in Dar es Salaam, I asked if it would be possible not to have any other occupants in the berth for the remainder of the journey. She kindly agreed, and left me to enjoy the remaining 26 hours of travel in complete, blissful isolation.

During one of my quick jaunts down the corridors to stretch my legs I met a young Swiss man named Alexander. As we chatted, we learned that he and I had the exact itinerary for the next few days. He was also traveling alone, so we decided to strike up a traveling partnership for the next leg of our journey.

At 8:00 that evening we arrived in the small town of Kapiri Mposhi, which is 125 miles north of the Zambian capital of Lusaka. This out of the way area is where the train line virtually ends and a bus is taken for the remainder of the journey. The guidebook described this city as one not to stay overnight at unless no other option is available; its squalor conditions and pay by the hour hotels are not popular with tourists. After jumping off of the train, Alexander and I ventured to the neighboring bus stand to look for the next bus to Lusaka. When I say ‘bus’, I mean dala dala public transport minibus. Please read my last post to fully get the idea of a dala dala, a 4-wheeled death trap. Long story short, we got on and waited for 80 minutes while they packed and repacked this bus in order to fill it to maximum capacity. Alexander was scrunched up against a window and I was pushed against him. A large man was on my other side, holding a baby. There was no room for my large hiking backpack on the ground since everyone else also had luggage and there was no way I was going to oblige and let them tie it to the roof. The only other alternative was on my lap, where the huge thing rested for the duration of the drive. By 9:30 p.m. we were finally getting underway for what should have been a short 3 hour journey.

After sleeping and lounging around all day, I don’t know how I was tired, but thank God I was. With my ipod conspicuously hiding under my jacket, earbuds in, and eye mask on, I drifted to sleep. Africa has forced a change in my old fickle sleeping habits! A short time later I was jolted awake by the harsh bouncing that accompanies a dala dala with no shocks as it recoils against deep ruts in an unpaved road. The vehicle stopped and I heard a door open and close, and a few minutes later we were on our way again. I didn’t consider anything to be amiss, but assumed there was some sort of passenger exchange. Soon it happened again…and again…and again… What on earth was going on? Finally I awakened enough to figure out what was happening: our driver was sick. We would drive for ten-twenty minutes until he had to abruptly pull off the road, throw his door open, and run out to get sick in nearby bushes. This happened the entire way to Lusaka. Finally, nearly 6 hours later we arrived.

Neither Alexander nor I had made reservations at a place to stay, but we had looked at the guidebook earlier and picked a hostel that sounded promising. After catching a cab and arriving, I settled into the dorm room for another solid 4 hours of sleep.

I spent the following day exploring Lusaka. I did a bit of shopping, walking around the market area, and visiting the history museum. The city is quite large but it felt like a ghost town compared to Dar. The streets were not clogged with traffic and its sidewalks were not packs with throngs of people. One thing that Lusaka has that Dar does not is good-quality beef. I followed the recommendation of a friend who used to live there and visited a steakhouse for a wonderful grilled steak dinner. It is these little treats that make traveling especially exciting!

The next morning I boarded a 6:00 a.m. bus south to the town of Livingstone, home of Victoria Falls. I arrived around lunch time and checked into Jollyboys Backpacking Hostel. What a luxurious ‘backpackers’ paradise! With accommodations ranging from a bed in a 16 person dorm room up to a 2 person bungalow, they had something to fit all ranges of budget travelers. This quiet, exotic styled sanctuary portrayed a kind of peaceful, relaxing beauty that I have never before experienced at a budget ­accomodation. Check out the pictures in the album Victoria Falls to see it. Before this trip I had never actually spent much time at the places I stay. They are usually nothing comfortable or nice but instead are merely a cleanish place to lay my head. For the first time in my traveling experiences, I gladly spent quite a bit of time where I was staying; this was by far the most relaxing trip I have ever taken. I enjoyed afternoons swinging in a hammock by the pool, reading a good book on cushions in the garden, or socializing and dining with new friends. Three of these new acquaintances later came to Dar, and I was able to help get them acclimated to the city and even provided lodging to two of the girls.

April is the rainy season and the Zambezi River’s water depth reaches a yearly high. The fall is just over a mile wide and its height is a 354 foot drop (Niagara is190 foot cascade). The average volume of water pouring over is 2,641,721 gallons/second (Niagara is 1,801,174).

The statistics are indeed staggering but like anything else, it is possible to have too much of a good thing. When water falls at such a high level it creates so much mist that the view of the waterfall itself is quite restricted. Only a few areas offered views that allowed me to see a fraction of the beauty and overwhelming power of the falls. Being so wide, there was no viewpoint at which I could stand and get the full visual effect. A waterfall, however, can offer what many other things in nature cannot: nearly complete sensory stimulation. The sight of the water, mist, river, and surrounding nature is obvious. Its noise is ferocious. Upon his exploration of the area, Dr. David Livingston referred to the falls as “The smoke that thunders”. The smell of fresh river water permeates the air. The feel of the river was the most exhilarating and intense.

I designated my first visit to the falls as the ‘wet day’. There is a gorge that runs perpendicular to the waterfall with a footbridge that connects the two sides. The footbridge is close to the waterfall. The spray caused by the water crashing over 300 feet below envelopes the entire area, rising up and creating a moist cloud over the drop off. The bridge is directly in the midst of the ‘splash zone’, and crossing it means becoming completely drenched. What fun!

Having known that getting wet was an option, I came on this trip prepared with the essential flip flops, full poncho, plastic bags to protect my things, and a waterproof camera. After getting geared up I set off to ‘get a feel for’ the waterfall (see pictures of Victoria Falls). I am still amazed by the strength of the water; it felt like being in a hurricane with water drilling into me from nearly horizontal angles. I wish you could have experienced it with me; I ‘mist’ you! It was a ‘mistical’ place! Okay, enough with my mist jokes…. Being alone on the bridge with water pelting me, hearing the pounding of the crashes, and feeling the vibrations in the wood gave me a sense of utter smallness and insignificance. I was raptured by it, allowed to be let in on the secret, and enveloped by its power. I could stretch out my arms and yell while still being nothing in comparison, lost in the smoke and thunder.

I went on one hike to the gorge on the opposite side of the falls to explore the surrounding vegetation and geology. Another path took me down to the bottom of the gorge where water from the fall flowed into the river. The big bridge seen in my pictures is the crossing point into Zimbabwe. It is also the platform for bungee jumpers. A third hike ran alongside the river and allowed for great views of the river’s vegetation and extreme currents.

The abundance of baboons completed this idyllic picture of paradise. Their lack of inhibition around humans was both worrisome and captivating. The click of a camera did not seem to bother them in the least, and I loved observing them.

As I explained earlier, there is no where to stand that a complete view of the falls can be seen. There is, however, one place that does offer amazing views: from above. The best decision I made on this trip was to take a microflight ride above the falls and the surrounding area. As you can see in the picture, the flying contraption was quite small. I couldn’t take a camera because of the risks associated with the open propeller and potentially dropped objects. The plane had digital cameras attached to the wings and every time that the pilot pushed a button on his handle bars (like a bike’s) the cameras took pictures (See Microflight pictures, link below). At the beginning of this 15 minute ride the pilot and I took off and headed a short distance for the falls. On the way, we saw two giraffes walking in the middle of the paved road (the area on both the Zambia and Zimbabwe sides of the river are protected parks). There was a microphone headset inside of my helmet, which allowed the pilot to narrate the trip. We flew over the zigzagged gorges with the river roaring at the bottom as he explained the geological history of the rock formations and the movement of the river and subsequent waterfall. Flying above the waterfall was one of the most exhilarating feelings of my life. When we went through the middle of the mist it was cold and the river water’s smell made a lasting impression in my memory. The speed at which the mist was rising upwards from the river created a turbulent force and the pilot had to focus on keeping the plane flying straight and steady. How invigorating!

I spent my last afternoon in Livingstone town. There is an informative museum about Dr. Livingstone’s journey through Africa and some Zambian history. I went to a small local market where I purchased some beautiful fabrics and learned about the tobacco industry from a lady selling it. I found the locals to be extremely kind and welcoming. They weren’t hustlers, forcing the tourists to buy their goods, and most spoke great English since it is the nation’s official language.

Later that night I took the bus ride back to Lusaka and was dropped at the airport, where I waited a few hours until my flight. A few hours later I was back at my apartment in Dar, relaxed and rejuvenated, ready for the last 6 weeks of school.

I hope you’ve been entertained by my travel stories. I’d love to hear your comments! Here are instructions for leaving a comment:

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Enjoy the pictures and friend me on Facebook if we’re not yet!

Out the Train Window

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2561106&id=5132789&l=d633c57c6f

Victoria Falls

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2561114&id=5132789&l=914dee43c6

Microflight

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2564268&id=5132789&l=3aca1a7ab7

Happy Spring!

I hear nice weather has finally arrived; this is my favorite time of year in Florida and I wish I could be there to enjoy it. The rainy season has finally arrived here though and brought nice cooler weather with it. It’s in the mid 80s without torturous humidity. With the cooler weather comes millions of mosquitoes but bring it on….my 100% deet will keep them away. It will also eat through my clothes and give me cancer but hey, at least I won’t get malaria this month!

In February myself and three friends ventured to the Usambara Mountains in the northern part of the country in order to escape the heat. The enjoyable six hour car ride allowed me to see Tanzanian countryside that I hadn’t yet experienced. The mountains were beautiful; the air was cool and lacked the crippling humidity that was present in Dar. There had recently been rain, so the vegetation was green and lush and the air was silent but for the birds chirping in the distance. We stayed the first night at a Swiss run farm on the outskirts of town. The man who ran it did so with exact Swiss efficiency that hadn’t waned in the last 30 years that he has lived in Tanzania. The chalet in which we stayed was beautifully decorated with wooden Alpine furniture and a fireplace and was impeccably clean (a treat here in Tz). The food was amazing and the views rejuvenated the soul.

Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication about price and after some quick money pooling and calculations, we realized that we did not collectively bring enough money to stay for two more nights. With happy stomachs and sad hearts we set out down the mountain to the town in the valley and found accommodations at a Lutheran hostel. This was ¼ of the price of the last place and most certainly was not Swiss. The cleanliness was questionable, the toilet ran the entire time we were there, water from the shower was considered a luxury and therefore could not be counted on, and when it was working it smelled like a stagnant pond with decaying animals. I began to wonder if I would get a bacterial infection through my pores. Thank God for Wet Ones- the Wal-Mart wipes that are good for cleaning everything from your apple to your body!

We spent a day and a half led by our amazing guide, Kelvin, hiking through the Usambaras learning about its history, local plant uses, and insight into the life of the villagers who call the mountains their home. A huge majority of the local Tanzanian produce is grown in these mountains. As we walked through corn fields, carrot farms, and pear orchards is was sobering to see people who were obviously lacking nutritional stability and needed these crops but were forced to sell them to hotels and restaurants in the big cities in order to make a living.

Some points in the hike were steep uphill climbs. I wheezed and grumbled under my breath during these arduous moments as I clambered up the mountain cursing the Snickers bar I ate the day before (and the day before that too). As fate would have it, these instances were exacerbated by the sudden appearance of four or six small children, all under the age of twelve, who, while balancing baskets laden with fruit or cloth, would scamper past me, oblivious to the sheer physical exhaustion I was suffering. Every one of them did the same thing: they would pass me and then turn around to wave and smile as if to say “So long, sucker” before continuing on their journeys undaunted. The little brats—hadn’t their parents taught them not to brag?!

The momentary bodily exhaustion was given some relief, however, during other parts of the hike. The scenery was breathtaking; with hills and valleys that seemed to sing their own beauty and praise their creator. Every hour we would walk through a small mountain village of no more than fifty people. The children were always the first to detect our arrival and would run to the center of the dwellings to announce our entry. They lined up giving out high fives as if to say “Glad you FINALLY made it up that little ole' hill we saw you on three hours ago!”

I absolutely adored our base town of Lushoto and look forward to venturing to the mountains again. Next time Kelvin, our guide, said he would accompany me on a multi-day hike through the mountains and we could stay in the villages where I can learn all about the daily lives of the people who live there. I’m looking forward to my next visit!

I want to make a quick shift and share one of my favorite things about Tanzanian people: their true compassion and anguish when someone is ill. When a Tanzanian learns that I am not feeling well, he or she will immediately cease all other activity, look me in the eye with a grieving face and say “ pole sana” which roughly translates to “I’m very sorry.” It’s startling different than it is in the states because I know that they truly are incredibly sorry, almost painfully so, even if they don’t know you. I appreciate the care and concern that even strangers have for each others in regards to ones health and well-being. And now for the complaint…

Growing up in Florida where sandals are worn nearly year around has made me accustom to people not picking up their feet when they walk. Nevertheless, it always has been and will continue to be one of my biggest pet peeves. It drives me crazy when I hear the constant shuffle as one walks around. I want to use my ‘teacher voice’ and sternly yell ‘PICK UP YOUR FEET!’ as my eyes widen faces grimaces. I never would have believed it could get any worse but I am now here to tell you: it can and it has. People here are masters of the Tanzanian Shuffle. Everywhere you go the sound of shuffling feet blasts at you from all directions. The other day I was walking down a road and a half dozen people were 200 feet away but walking towards me. Their collective feet dragging made it sound as if a gigantic street cleaner was sweeping the roads. I wish it were--then it could sweep them away!

I had originally planned on buying a car but once I arrived and witnessed first hand the ungodly amount of traffic on the small, underdeveloped streets I decided it would usually be faster just to walk. This has proven to be true. I also have neighbors with cars and can get a ride with them at times. When I do need to get somewhere myself I can call a Tanzanian man named Deo any hour of the day or night and he will come and give me a lift- he’s a sort of unofficial taxi driver. He has also filled in as my body guard, translator, errand runner, and shopping expert at times.

If I do want to go somewhere by myself and I’m in no hurry to get there and don’t care if I arrive smelly and disheveled (if I'm so lucky as to arrive at all), I will take one of the Tanzanian ‘delights’ known as the dala dala. These minibuses have seats for about 16-18 people, however the seat counts mean nothing here. I think that there is a secret competition amongst its travelers to see how many people (and sometimes animals) we can get into the bus. The highest counts I have so far experienced has been 25 plus 2 goats, produce headed for the market, and the 3 cardboard boxes filled with everything from cd cases to fire extinguishers. Some ride that was! The toll collectors for each bus stand at the door and are called ‘mpigadebe’ which literally translates to ‘a person who hits a debe’ (a 4 gallon container used for transporting gasoline). This title was given because of their habit of keeping the door open and hanging themselves out while hitting the roof and side of the van to attract customers and also to signal to the driver that passengers are at least nearly aboard and the journey can commence.

The cargo is stuffed between legs, under chairs, on top of laps, rested atop heads, or any other place it can manage. People are sitting, standing, and sometimes even lying across others (I’ve seen it done- no lie!). I once was at a stop and when the dala dala approached it seemed to be bursting at its seams. Rule number one for the mpigadebe though is NEVER to turn away a passenger. After 30 seconds of all passengers inhaling and throwing arms and any other movable object out the window, a spot big enough for me to stand in was created—I just had to remember not to exhale too strongly! Actually, I shouldn’t inhale more than I have to either. Living in a place with heat like Florida in July amongst residence who do not bathe regularly, have only 1 outfit that is not often washed, and do not use hygiene products makes for a clash of smells that reminds me of a porto potty, meat packing plant, men’s locker room, fish market, rotten eggs, and a garbage can all clashed together.

The way that these busses roar through the streets is another unbelievable feat all together. The drivers have more road rage than any testosterone-driven man on a Hollywood car chase scene. I think they truly become the devil reincarnate, out to get as many casualties as they can. As they rumble down the roads at speeds not conducive to balancing the dozens of passengers they weave unyieldingly in and out of every unweavable spot; running off the road as many vehicles and pedestrians as possible. It does not help the situation when, across the front or back window, they display names such as ‘Titanic’, ‘One More Try’, and ‘Allah Help Us’. If you come and visit me I will surely take you on one of these memorable adventures; it’s something you’ve got to do once in your life. I still don’t know why I even dare riding on these things. Near, far, wherever you are, know this: if I continue riding on the ‘Titanic’, I believe that my heart will not go on….

Sometimes people try to jump on or off while the dala dala is moving through traffic. Here the police man sits and watches.

Well, that’s enough writing for me tonight. I started this blog a few weeks ago and then got caught up with work and forgot about it until yesterday. Since I started writing this post I have actually spent a week in Zambia for my Spring Break. My next blog update will tell you all about it and will finally include some pictures of my house and classroom! In the meantime, use the link below to explore pictures I posted on Facebook from my trip to the mountains that I talked about earlier. I’ve also posted 5 pictures of Mount Kilimanjaro as seen from my airplane window. I can’t wait for my attempt to summit it in July! As always, I hope that you have enjoyed reading and would LOVE to get feedback from you either through a post comment or e-mail!

Mountains:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2540529&id=5132789&l=c5e3583225

Kilimanjaro:

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Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! I hope that you had a wonderful holiday season with those closest to you. I had the good fortune to go home over Christmas break. Well, I say ‘good’ fortune; it was good once I finally arrived in Florida. I arrived in NYC amidst all of the snowstorms and weather chaos. My flight to Florida was cancelled and I couldn’t find another flight out on any airline for days. At this time I was also reminded of the miracle we call cell phones. I didn’t have one and it made things a nightmare. Do you realize how difficult it is to find working pay phones anymore?! After waiting in hours of lines and calling airports all around New York and New Jersey, I opted to take the ‘adventurous’ route and drive to my aunt’s house in Virginia, where I would take a plane to Tampa the next day. I rented the only car that was still available and hit the road, oddly content as at least I was in the country and didn’t have a language barrier to hurdle amidst it all! Jet lagged and exhausted, I set out. As I navigated my way out of the city I began reviewing the precautionary steps when driving in ice and snow. If you hit ice and spin do you turn with the car or against it? Do you brake or not? I admit I’ve never actually driven in cold weather before, so these questions were a bit daunting. I decided to compare the ice to still water on the road during a Florida storm. Seems logical, right?!

Banks of freshly fallen snow covering cars up to their roofs and icicles hanging from bare tree branches provided beautiful scenery as I drove. As the sun set, the hues of orange and yellow that danced across the sky were reflected in the white snow, making it shine like jewels. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of peace and tranquility. The silence brought by winter allowed me to see that in the midst of my travel exhaustion and frustrations God makes himself known. He provided a way for me to get home and made it a stunning ride as well.

After 19 hours of flying, 6 hours of airport lines, and 10 hours of driving I finally arrived at my Aunt Sharon’s. I think I actually cheered a little as I drove into her driveway. The drive brought another blessing in disguise, which was being able to visit some family I wouldn’t otherwise have seen over Christmas. Martin family, thank you for welcoming in my smelly, exhausted, and pathetic looking self that night!

I flew out of Newport News the next afternoon and finally arrived in Tampa. The unusually cold Florida weather caught me by surprise, though it was a welcome change from the heat that I had escaped. The next two weeks were spent in the wonderful company of family and friends. I apologize for not seeing many of you; the downside to such a short trip is that there is never enough time to see everyone.

While I was in Venice I was plagued with the same feeling that accompanied me when I used to go home from college and visit: although I love being with my family and around everything that is comforting and known, I didn’t feel as though I completely belong in Venice. It is a safe place, rejuvenating to the mind and heart, but not one in which I can function for an indefinite amount of time. I visited Orlando, where I lived the last four years, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like home either and neither does Dar now. For the first time in my life, I’m struggling with this definition of ‘home’. If ‘home’ is where you do life then that’s Dar, but if home is where the heart is, then I’m not sure where that is. A piece of my heart is in Venice with my family and old friends and a piece of it is in Orlando with my friends and college memories. Dar is where I do life. It’s a great career move. It teaches me valuable life lessons and provides me with experiences unequivocal to those I could get in the states, but it is not where my heart is. I do not regret moving here (okay- I do curse moving here when I have no power and water!), but I have not yet made those connections with people that would make this ‘home’. And that’s what home is to me I suppose: doing life in a place where you have strong relationships with those around you. I know that relationships with people you have only recently met take time; I am getting to know some wonderful people here. Who knows, I may call this ‘home’ by the time I eventually leave, but right now I’m stuck in a rut of not quite being content with where I am but also not knowing where else I’d want to go. Am I dealing with ‘homesickness’ or searching for ‘home’? I’m not sure, but I’m struggling with it more now that I’m back from the states than I was when I first arrived. While Dar isn’t terrible, it is not on my list of favorite places in terms of ease and enjoyable living. These frustrations associated with living in a developing country don’t help my feeling of being unsettled. Okay, enough of my moaning. I am blessed with so much and I know that where there is emptiness in my soul my Lord will fill it. In this promise I will press on, focusing on the good around me.

One of those ‘good’ moments came in the form of a trip to the United Arab Emirates (UAE). My Dar to USA flight was through Emirates airline and all trips go through Dubai. When booking my ticket, it didn’t cost any extra money to make the connection into an extended layover. Robin, my teacher friend who also accompanied me to Egypt, flew to the states with me. We met back in NYC at the end of our trip and flew to UAE to spend 4 nights and 3 full days. Dubai has been in the news lately because it’s the state of the art modern city that would have gone bankrupt without the bailout from their neighboring emirate (state) Abu Dhabi. Dubai has also recently been the subject of media attention because the week we were there it opened what is now the world’s tallest building, the Burj Dubai (Dubai Tower).

The Burj Dubai reaches an astounding 2,717 feet and has 160 floors which are comprised of office spaces, residential apartment for $4,000/sq ft., a mosque, and the world’s highest hotel, the Armani hotel. After purchasing a $30.00 ticket to the world’s tallest observation deck on the 124th floor, Robin and I eventually got to the front of the line and stepped into the fastest elevator in the world, which reached 40 m.p.h. The management team of this building definitely ensured that everything about this building was over the top. The elevator ride was better than many amusement rides. Aside from not being able to actually feel the movement of the elevator at all or any corresponding ear popping, the inside of the elevator was dark. Its walls were black and had small blue lights behind glass designs shaped like the building layout flush to the walls. There was also a flat screen tv built into each wall. As you rose, the tvs rolled with scenes of sky and clouds taken from the perspective of being in them. The lights on the walls illuminated rising up again and again in a staggered pattern so that, in conjunction with the tv and the airy music from the speakers above, made you feel as though you really were rising up. The view at the top was stunning, making the stomach a bit queasy when looking straight down. In keeping with Dubai’s constant effort to be the biggest and the best in everything possible, its commitment to cleanliness certainly is incredible. Nowhere did I ever see liter or any signs of neglect. Even around the mall they had people walking around erasing scuff marks from people’s shoes!

Dubai can be described as Disney World meets Las Vegas in its presentation. It is its own fantasy world, catering to any desire, pushing the boundaries of prosperity, amazing its observer with futuristic concepts and innovations, offering an over abundance of choices, and costing a small fortune! The blending of an Islamic country and Western culture creates an interesting feel to the city. Scenes such as a burqa-clad woman next to another in tight jeans and a halter top left me with the sense that the city really has no identity as its own but rather adopts cultures and customs of all of its visitors. The idea that women in Dubai have so many more freedoms than do women in other Middle Eastern cultures, especially that of its neighbor Saudi Arabia, left me all the more baffled and confused by the line between Islamic expectations and Middle Eastern culture.

This fascination with the Middle East that I had acquired since moving to Tanzania and then even more since visiting Egypt fueled by desire to buy multiple topic oriented books from a bookstore in the Dubai Mall, the world’s largest mall-of course! The book I’m currently reading, The Middle East: A Brief History of the Last 2,000 Years (by Bernard Lewis), “…charts the history of the Middle East…from the birth of Christianity through the modern era, focusing on the successive transformations that have shaped it.” I’m not yet a quarter of the way through it but so far it’s an amazing read.

Robin and I spent two whole days in Dubai visiting malls (with aquariums, ice skating rinks, and ski slopes inside!), walking through the gold market in the historic neighborhood, visiting mosques, and trying our best to figure out this over the top concept of Dubai. On our last full day we rented a car early in the morning and took a twelve hour road trip around other emirates (states) in the country. We drove through the Hatta Mountains and the desert sand dunes, along the UAE-Oman border and the Gulf of Oman. The scenery was beautiful and the drive enjoyable.

Looking back on my brief visit to UAE, I deduce that I am glad that I went, especially since the airline didn’t charge me extra. I was able to experience some amazing concepts and designs as well as adding more fuel to the fire of my fascination with the Middle East. Having said that comparing it to all of the other places I have been, I would not recommend a visit for the sole purpose of vacationing in Dubai. It was, however, successful in equipping me with the last few 1st world conveniences I needed to buy before heading back to Tanzania!

I arrived back in Dar three days before school started, which left me with some time to catch up a bit and prepare for the coming term. My arrival also signaled the beginning of my additional role as the new Team Leader for Grade Two. This leadership position is exciting, and the extra work load is forcing me to become a stronger teacher.

My arrival also brought with it some negative ‘welcome home’ presents. First, I was met with an infestation of flying termites in my bedroom. They are absolutely everywhere! One of my bedroom walls is occupied entirely by a built in wardrobe. The termites are feasting on the entire wardrobe as well as my wooden ceiling. The ceiling is an even greater problem because their bodies and wings are falling all over my room. I nightly pick off the dozen or so that have fallen through my mosquito net and onto my bed since my housekeeper left, then I do yet another sweep of the floor and dusting of the furniture to collect their little bodies-yuck! I will have to move everything out of my bedroom later this week when the construction men come to redo my entire bedroom ceiling and replace my built in wardrobe. The rest of my house also needs a new ceiling, but since the little pests aren’t showing themselves yet we will wait until I am away during summer break.

In the midst of this, my hot water heater died as well as my fridge, spoiling all of my meat and dairy. With tons of pent up frustration, I called my ever-amazing parents and had a minor breakdown. I’m since doing much better with a new refrigerator and water heater and a ceiling on the way. It’s times such as these that I can only smile and think of what great stories these will be in years to come.

I have taken pictures of my school and classroom but will wait to take pictures of my house until the bedroom work is completed. As soon as it is finished, I will make a video of my house and post it all at once so that you can finally see where I live. The following link will allow you to view my UAE pictures; I hope that you enjoy!

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