Annapurna Circuit: Thanksgiving at 4020 Metres

Let me start off by saying that I don't care for Thanksgiving very much. I feel like the United States just took Christmas, removed the gift giving, added family infighting, and moved the whole thing up a month to give themselves a bonus holiday. I've also been soured to the event by having to dodge invitations to Thanksgiving dinner by people I barely know ever since I moved to the US 10 years ago (there is something in the American psyche that will not accept someone being alone on Thanksgiving, regardless of how that someone might feel about it). I won't even go into how I feel about the hypocrisy of including native Americans in the mix. That said, Colleen does care for Thanksgiving, and although she didn't make a fuss, I could tell that she was feeling down about being so far away from her family as the day approached. Ergo, I started caring. The problem was that Thanksgiving would fall right in the middle of our Annapurna hike, about as far away from family and Thanksgiving tradition as you can get.

The trail at lower elevation

The Annapurna Circuit trek is considered one of the world’s classic walks. The trail follows a valley up to the high pass at Thorung La then down into another valley on the other side. It  was opened to foreigners in 1977, and has gained steadily in popularity since (except during the Maoist revolution during the latter part of this decade when there was a sharp decline). As a matter of fact, its popularity is one of its few drawbacks in that the trail can often be quite crowded during high season. (this turned out not to be a problem for us though, as, due to poor planning on our part, we went at the end of the season so there were few hikers. As a matter of fact, the high pass was closed for the season a few days after we crossed it). The walk is popular for a reason. Starting in a lush, almost jungle like environment, the terrain changes daily as you gain elevation through pine forests to scrub brush, and finally barren rock above tree line, all the while snow capped mountains loom above on either side. During a typical days walk, you would pass through several small villages, scurry to get out of the way of a mule train, cross a raging turquoise river on a swaying metal suspension bridge, and pass innumerable Buddhist stupas (stone spires - a representation of Buddha), gompas (Buddhist monastery) and prayer wheels, all festooned with colourful prayer flags. There were even monkeys at the lower elevations. 

The trail at higher elevation

Sounds idyllic right? I suppose in some ways it was, but it was also very challenging. The full circuit takes nearly three weeks to complete. Due to Colleen’s commitments in Ilam (more on that in a later post), we had to cut our trek to just under two weeks by taking a shared jeep to cut a day off the front end and flying out of Jomsom to cut a week off the back end. This left us with the core of the trail: 120 horizontal kilometres, 4.3 vertical km up, 2.7 vertical km down, with a maximum elevation of 5416 metres, all in conditions that ranged from sunny and hot to freezing cold and snowing. If that wasn't challenging enough, I insisted that we did not need porters (we were the only ones without them), so Colleen carried 8 kilograms on her back and I carried 18. Walking uphill, at times very steeply uphill, for a week in increasingly colder and thinner air, after having done absolutely no exercise for months almost did us in.

Simple accommodations

But I digress, back to Thanksgiving. One of the great things about the trek is that the you could find simple accommodation and hot food in the villages along the trail. The villages with accommodations for hikers were more or less a days walk apart so that you would tend to see the same people on the trail each day and at the lodge each night. This meant that we got to know and befriend a lot of our fellow hikers. It also meant that we could easily recruit for an impromptu Himalayan thanksgiving dinner / party. We were with a great group of people, and even though there were no Americans, everyone seemed pretty keen. There was even a bit of a buzz about it on the trail. There would be no turkey of course, even chickens were pretty rare at that altitude, but we did manage to get our hands on an apple pie (which our confused guide agreed to carry up the trail for us), and the rest would just have to sort itself out

River and Mountain

On the big day, we ended our hike in Yak Kharka, The name fit as was evidenced by the multitude of yaks roaming around the village and surrounding fields, as well as for a few other reasons that will become apparent as the story progresses. The village was quite nice, and our lodge had stunning views of the mountains outside. As a matter of fact, it was like the place was made for a dinner party. The dinning hall was just big enough to fit us cozily (close together, but comfortable) and the small tables and benches were all arranged around a central fire (fueled by yak dung of course - firewood is scarce at high elevations). All of which really lent itself to a festive and intimate atmosphere. Our thanksgiving feast consisted of garlic soup, yak burgers and apple pie followed by local apple brandy / firewater.Before pie was served, everyone got up in turn and gave their (hilarious) reasons for being thankful (see the video). We were not in the US (Colleen was the only American), the food was  far from traditional, there was no football, no family fights, and all we had was our sweaters and a poop fire to keep us warm. But I have to say, our impromptu Himalaya Thanksgiving was my best Thanksgiving yet, mainly for the smile on Colleens face.

The gang at the top of the pass

The next few days were pretty hard. The climbing got more difficult, and the air thinner, but we did make it over the pass, and we were lucky enough to time it so that all of the people met at the top more or less at the same time for pictures, high fives and hugs. Then we made our way down to the next village for local wine (raxi), and apple brandy. I have to say that we could not have met a nicer group of people to share this experience with. Everyone was so generous, kindhearted and fun to be around, that both Colleen and I were genuinely sad when the group started to break up and go its separate ways. We can only hope that we will run into them again.

Thanksgiving in the Himalayas was great, but more than that, our experience on the Annapurna Circuit, for me anyway, epitomizes the joys of travelling. Experiencing incredible wonders like the Himalayas would seem to be enough on its own, but frequently when travelling, you get lucky and meet amazing people with whom to share this kind of thing, and the two combined are immeasurably better that either on its own.

Colleen left for Ilam yesterday, and I am back in Kathmandu left to my own devices for a couple of weeks. Not sure what I'll get up to...


Michael
Thamel, Kathmandu

PS I apologize if this was a bit of a long post, but it was an incredible experience, very difficult to condense.

Varanasi (and India): As Different as it Gets

Our guidebook describes Varanasi thus:

“Perhaps one of India’s holiest cities, Varanasi defies easy description. A highly congested maze of narrow alleys winding behind its waterfront ghats, at once highly sacred yet physically often far from clean. As an image, an idea and a symbol of Hinduism’s central realities, the city draws pilgrims from around the world to worship, meditate, and above all bathe. It is a place to be born, and a place to die. In the cold mists of a winter’s dawn, you can see life and death laid bare. For an outside observer, it can be an uncomfortable, albeit unmissable experience, juxtaposing the inner philosophical mysteries of Hinduism with the practical complications of living literally and metaphysically on the edge.“  (Footprint, India Handbook, 17th edition).

The language is a little esoteric, but the description is pretty close to the mark. What the author does not convey though, is just how strange and overwhelming Varanasi can be, nor does it indicate the beauty or depth of the place. Unfortunately though, if I’m honest, my Varanasi experience was more about the strange and overwhelming than the beautiful or deep.

Varanasi Ghat

Varanasi (also called Banares or sometimes Kashi), in addition to being a holy place for centuries (since 700 B.C.) is also a centre of Hindu learning and culture. It ins one of the oldest if not the oldest continuously inhabited place on earth. The old town hugs the banks of the Ganges and is a warren of narrow cobblestone streets that give way to waterfront ghats (flat landings and steps leading to the river) where pilgrims bathe in the sacred, albeit polluted, river. Here too are the burning ghats where corpses are burned in open air fires so that the ashes may be scattered in the sacred river (there is also a more efficient although somewhat ghoulish crematorium building near one of the burning ghats). It is also a major draw for non-Indian (northern) tourists, and there is a whole range of accommodations and creature comforts set up just for them.

Puja at dawn

A typical day in Varanasi might consist of a boat ride on the Ganges where you may or may not bump into a floating corpse (we did by the way), dodging cows and monkeys in some medieval back alley, getting stuck in a traffic jam, declining dozens of solicitations from rickshaws, taxis, beggars and touts, wilting in the mid-day heat, walking past corpses being cremated at one of the burning ghats, while dozes bathe in the river downstream, observing any number of religious ceremonies or festivals (we witnessed 3), being offered a blessing, for a fee, by a ragged looking sadhu (Hindu holy man who has renounced worldly goods), having to cover your face to try to avoid the stench of open sewers, all the while dodging hordes of European and American tourists. After one such day, Colleen observed that, for someone with our background (Northern, Christian, etc.), Varanasi was as different as a place could get.

Fire Puja at Dashashwamedh Ghat

As usual, she hit the nail on the head. Varanasi is completely different from anything in my experience. So different in fact that it was difficult for me to see beyond the difference and strangeness in order to grasp any meaning or beauty, which was always there of course, just below the surface. I did manage to catch some hints, but never got a good feel for it. The woman performing puja (worship) at the river’s edge at dawn, teenagers playing cricket at one of the ghats because that was the only open area they could find, little shops tucked into back alleys where daily life took place, and religious buildings, ceremonies or people at every corner were all pleasant interludes in an otherwise bewildering, hectic and sometimes unpleasant day. They were not, as I would have hoped, pieces of a fascinating puzzle that I could try to piece together.

Unfortunately, in some ways, the same could be said of my India experience in general. Blame it on being rushed (we probably packed too much in to our three week visit), travel fatigue (we’ve been on the road for 3 months now) or culture shock, I had a hard time seeing beyond the strange and aggravating in India to see the good. I’m not implying that I didn’t like India, or that I learned nothing, because more than any place I’ve been, India intrigued and challenged me, and even in the short time I was there, I learned so much. It’s just that I feel like there was so much that I missed. I suppose that the best thing to come out of our trip to India is a strong desire to come back for more. 

We are in Nepal now, but more on that in the next post...


Michael
Thamel, Kathmandu

Himalayan Healthcare

Hello everyone,
We both feel a little awkward about doing this, but we also both feel that it is such a good cause, we thought we would put it out there.

As some of you may know, Colleen will be volunteering two weeks of her time at beginning of December in a hospital in the Nepali town of Ilam with a group called Himalayan healthcare (HHC). Himalayan Healthcare is a not-for profit organization that works to provide primary health care, education and income generation assistance to people living in remote and impoverished regions of Nepal. She will be working with a team to provide outpatient and inpatient obstetric and gynecologic care for patients as well as local staff education.

Unfortunately, a portion of HHC's funding for this project fell through, so the group is looking for alternate funding sources, including donations. That is where you come in. We would appreciate it if you would consider donating to HHC to help fund their work in Nepal. Of note, we are not looking for donations for Colleen or any of the other volunteer physicians. All of the physicians are paying for their own transportation and expenses and are volunteering their services. Many are also bringing medical supplies from the United States. (Of course since we have been traveling, Colleen is just bringing her cheerful self, sans medical supplies.) Nonetheless, hospital costs such as anesthesia support and post-operative care will require some additional expense, although not nearly as much as in the United States. For example, a donation of $200 would pay for all of the hospital expenses for a patient who needs to have a hysterectomy.

We have included a link to Himalayan Healthcare’s website (http://www.himalayan-healthcare.org/ ) if you are interested in more information or would consider making a donation. If you would like to donate, you can do so online by following the ‘How you can help’ tab or the ‘Donate now’ link. Your donation would go directly to Himalayan Healthcare, and there is no need to tell us whether or not you choose to donate, although you might consider marking your donation for the ‘December OB/GYN Camp’.



Thank you,

Colleen & Michael

Amritsar: Funny Walks and a Holy Place

Amritsar is the second largest city in the Indian state of Punjab (after the capital Chandigarh). It is a pleasant town on it's own, out of the way enough to be far less overrun by tourists than other areas we've been to, but still relatively easy to get to (6 hour train from Delhi), great food (even in India, Punjab is famous for its food), and easy to get around on foot. It borders Pakistan (Amritsar is only 50 km to Lahore, even closer to the border), and is the spiritual home to the Sikh people. The two attractions most people come to see, the flag ceremony at the India / Pakistan border, and the Sikh's holiest shrine, the Golden Temple, reflect this. My brother visited India last year and told me that Amritsar had been a highlight for him. His descriptions intrigued me, so when we were making our India plan, Amritsar figured prominently. I have to say that my brother was right, and I was not disappointed. Amritsar has to be my favourite spot in India so far.

Security checkpoint

The flag ceremony is ostensibly just a bunch of army guys lowering flags at sunset at the border with the sort of pomp and circumstance that the military does so well. However, as we were to find out, it is really a bit more than that. For those of you who don't already know, India and Pakistan do not have the friendliest relationship. Under the British Raj, Pakistan was a part of India. When independence came in 1947 however, the majority Muslim northwest of the country chose to go its own way, and India was partitioned to form the new Muslim state of Pakistan and the (mostly) Hindu state of India. This did not happen peacefully. There were ethnically motivated massacres on both sides as Hindus and Muslims caught on the wrong side of Britain's arbitrary line tried to get to the other side. The conflict continues to this day. India and Pakistan have fought three full out wars, there are constant skirmishes in Indian controlled Kashmir, and more recently, the terrorist attacks in Mumbai in 2008 that killed 175 people were carried out by attackers from Pakistan. This is obviously a pretty basic and incomplete history, and I'm sure any Indian or Pakistani reading it would wince at the generalizations and omissions, but i felt it necessary to mention something about the history of the area in order to give some context to what has to be one of the strangest events I have ever seen, the flag ceremony at the Wagah border crossing between India and Pakistan.

The Indian crowd

The drive to the Wagah border post took about 25 minutes in a hired taxi. The first sign that something was up was the traffic. The road was full of cars and auto-rickshaws headed towards Wagah. I could not imagine that many people were on there way to Pakistan, I wasn't even sure if the border was open (it usually closes when there is a flare up between India and Pakistan, which is not that infrequent). I asked our driver, and he told me everyone was off to see the ceremony. Arriving at Wagah was the next clue. There was a real carnival atmosphere there. Cars and people jostling for space on a dusty road, loudspeakers blaring music, and vendors selling snacks. We got out of the car and sort of followed the crowd. Things took a more serious turn at an army checkpoint where we were lined up (girls in one line and boys in another as is usual in India) to pass through a metal detector and be searched by soldiers. After that it was on the the grandstand. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I certainly wasn't expecting stadium seating. There must have been between 5 and 10 thousand people, with an equal number on the Pakistan side, who we could just about see through a fence and a fancy gate separating the two countries. The crowd was energized. There was an MC on each side whipping the respective crowds into frenzies with chants and loud rhythmic music, sort of like the pregame at a sporting event

The Pakistani crowd (over the fence)

Then came the main event. 8 soldiers appeared out of their barracks, dressed in full formal gear. Shiny black shoes, spats, perfectly pleated sashes and some kind of peacock berets with a shiny embroidered fan on top. They all stood at attention and the leader started what must have been a muster call to the uproarious cheers of the crowd. Through the fence, we could see and hear the same thing going on on the Pakistan side. I'm not sure what the point was, but there was lots of long drawn out yells, some synchronized head snapping and foot stomping. Then one of the soldiers did the most incredible thing. He broke rank and set off quick time towards the border gate, in a half skip, half goose step / high kick. The ladies at the Moulin Rouge couldn't have kicked higher. The crowd went ballistic. He went right up to the gate, stomped a bit, saluted his flag and glowered through the gate at his Pakistani counterpart, who was pretty much mirroring him. This was repeated several times by other soldiers in a surreal bit of military / cabaret choreography. For those of you familiar with it, it was the Ministry of Funny Walks from Monty Python. Then the leader from each countries group of soldiers (you could tell the leaders by their more extravagant headgear) started lowering their respective countries flags. This was done incredibly slowly. I was told later that this was to ensure that at no time would one flag be lower than the other. When finally down, the flags were ceremoniously but quickly folded, and trotted double time by the soldiers back to the barracks, to more wild cheering from the ecstatic crowds.

The glowering stare

When it was all over, I didn't know quite what had hit me. The crowd surrounding me seemed satisfied, everyone was smiling and seemed to have that "we really showed them" kind of look. Had we won? Had our guys kicked higher than the theirs, were our guys dressed snazzier? I can honestly say that was one of the strangest things I have ever seen. If it weren't for the fact that people have died and continue to die in the conflict between these two countries, this kind of hyper nationalism and glorification of military culture would be hilarious to me. However, the reality is that the people in attendance did not find it in any way funny. Their chants and flag waving were not the stuff of conciliation, or fraternity, and I couldn't help feeling a little sad when it was all over. The sturdy barbed wire fencing and military barracks we passed on the way back to the taxi belied the smiles on the faces of spectators.

The Golden Temple at Amritsar

If the flag ceremony represented the negative end of the spectrum of nationalism, I would have to say that the Golden Temple represents, in my opinion, an example of the beautiful potential of religion. I won't go into the details of the Sikh religion, I'm certainly no expert, and it's not really germane to the point. Just to give you an idea though, the Golden Temple in Amritsar is to the Sikhs what the Vatican is to Catholics, the wailing wall is to Jews, and Mecca is to Muslims, the holiest of holies. The Temple is located in the centre of a man made lake which in turn is surrounded an all four sides by other religious buildings, beautiful in their own right. The Temple itself is stunning. It is "Golden" because 100 kg of actual gold was used to coat its exterior, and this beautiful golden facade brilliantly reflects the sunlight and is mirrored in the lake, really quite beautiful. The Sikh holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib, is sung (the Sikh book is made up of hymns that are sung rather than read) in the Temple from early in the morning to late at night, and pilgrims form in lines for a chance to cross the narrow bridge to the Temple for a few minutes inside. Pilgrims will also bathe in the lake as its waters are considered holy and imbued with special powers.

It is not the acts of the pilgrims, nor the buildings themselves that define this place, beautiful though they are. Rather it is the sense of spirituality and brotherhood that permeate the site and are almost palpable. It is difficult to describe, but in a country full of noise and exuberance, here was peace, in a country full of people pushing you out of the way, here was quiet consideration. You could see it on people's faces, everyone was there to experience something beautiful, and you could almost feel their happiness.

Dinner at the Golden Temple

As it specifically concerned us, I have to say that I always find it difficult to visit a place that is holy to a religion that is not my own. I feel like an interloper, and am never sure if my presence is an insult.This was most definitely not the case at the Golden Temple. On several occasions, people stopped to ask us if we needed anything or if we had any questions. Of course we had questions, and they were always patiently answered. People would just stop to say hello, and try to make us feel more welcome. As a matter of fact, one of the tenets of the Sikh religion is langar, or communal eating after worship. This is practised at the Golden Temple where a communal kitchen feeds the pilgrims, thousands daily, simple meals of rice, curry and bread. We were intrigued, but did not want to impose ourselves. This turned out not to be an issue as several people invited us / shepherded us into the cafeteria. At langar, everyone sits and eats from the floor (the Sikhs believe all are equal, and sitting together on the floor ensures that no one is above another). So we sat on the floor, more awkwardly that everyone else of course, and had our meal. It was really great. The food was great, and we were made to feel totally welcome, even though we were the only non-Sikhs in a hall of at least 700 people. Everyone, from the people serving the food to the people sitting around us would say hello, try to make small talk or smile at us. Regardless of how you fell about religion in general, there are times when it can achieve something truly beautiful, and In Amritsar, it has.

We are in Varanasi now, and leave tomorrow for Kathmandu. It seems like we arrived in India only yesterday....

Michael
Divya Hotel, Assi Ghat,

Varanasi, India

Rajasthan: Back on the Beaten Path

If Africa, or at least large parts of it, were off the beaten path, then Rajasthan is very much on it. Rajasthan is a province in India. Its claim to fame is that it is home to the kingdoms of the maharajahs. These kingdoms have a rich history and culture that stretch back hundreds of years, and the countryside is littered with their old fortresses, palaces, havelis (fancy homes) walled cities and temples. Add to that a good transportation network, inexpensive lodging and food, colourful markets and town centres, and you have the perfect ingredients for a major tourist destination. It sounds great, but as with most tourist destinations, it can be pretty awful. Whatever culture or beauty may have existed has, for the most part, has been chased away by convoys of tour buses, to be replaced by shysters selling inferior copies of whatever people came for in the first place.Combined with the general filth of the cities (the air was so bad, some days it was difficult to breathe), beggars, congested traffic, and incredibly aggressive touts, you end up with a bad impression to say the least. Also, due to time constraints, Colleen and I hired a driver for our 12 day tour. Before you go thinking we’ve become aristocrats, it was actually not that much more expensive than taking trains and buses, and it was really the only way we could see all we wanted to see given the time constraints we were working with, and given that it is the holiday season here (Diwali), booking hotels and transportation as we went would have been a real challenge anyway. However, this is not the way we like to travel, we prefer to be in charge and not really plan that far ahead, and I can't say we really enjoyed it that much.

However, it is the weak mind that dwells on the negative, so here are some of our good (sometimes great) experiences in Rajasthan, and why our overall experience was positive.

Sheer volume: Having a driver allowed us to see many places we would never have got to without one. Our route was Delhi, Mandawa, Bikaner, Jaisalmer, Jodhpur, Udaipur, Ranakpur, Bundi, Fatepur Sikri, Jaipur, Amer, Agra, Vrindavan and back to Delhi. Not bad for 12 days, exhausting though.

Driving: Driving in India is a real adventure. The scenery is impressive, and the roads are generally pretty good, it what’s on the roads though that really gets your attention. On any given day, Bittoo, our driver and new Sikh friend from Delhi, would have to weave his way through cars, tractors, people, camels, buses, elephants, trucks, donkey carts, cows (lots of cows), motorcycles and monkeys. While technically you’re supposed to drive on the left here, Bittoo chose the middle of the road in order to be best situated to avoid traffic coming at us from either side. We alternated between amused and terrified. My favourite was the guess how many people on the motorcycle game – 5 was the record, unless the babies count for less than 1.

Camel ride

Camel ride: It was definitely a tourist trap, and when we first pulled up, I got that, “well this sucks, no way I'm going to have fun here" attitude. Then I got on the camel, it stood up, and I turned into a giddy ten year old. Sure the ride was only an hour or so, but we were in the desert, on a camel. You have no idea how tall a camel is until you see the ground from ones back.

The Thar Desert: The Thar desert is in the Northwest of India, on the border with Pakistan. The part of it we saw was really beautiful, dry savanna with huge sand dunes rolling away into the distance. We even saw a few wild antelope. We spent a night under the stars sleeping in the desert too. That was pretty incredible. There were more stars than I've seen in a while, and as if ordered up just for us, there was a thunder storm in the distance, with lightning strikes lighting up the night sky from time to time. The best part though had to be the moonrise. Watching a giant moon rising over the sand dunes, basking everything in a weird brownish burgundy colour was unlike anything I've ever seen before.

Making a Connection: Making any kind of local connection in Rajasthan was not easy. We didn’t spend a lot of time in any one place, and most of the places we stayed were overrun by other tourists, and the industry set up to cater to them. However, we, or rather Colleen, did have a pretty special moment in Jodhpur. We were walking through the main gate of the Palace, and there were a group of musicians playing local music for tips. A group of schoolchildren on a class trip was listening to the musicians, and broke into a sort of group folk dance, a sort of Indian macarena. A few of them saw Colleen and dragged her into the dance. I was thankfully spared, but it was fun watching Colleen awkwardly trying to match steps with a bunch of 14 year old Indian girls. Afterwards, the teachers asked us a bunch of questions for the class, and everyone took pictures with us. We found out from the teachers afterwards that the children were from the countryside, and most had never seen a foreigner before.

Udaipur sunset

Udaipur sunset: Udaipur is adjacent to lake Pichola, and the orange sun setting behind the hills in the distance, shimmering over the lake and casting a glow to the lake palace (you might recognize the lake palace from the James Bond movie Octopussy) as the city lights come one is really stunning. On a trip full of amazing sunset, this was the best. The picture I included gives you an idea, but really doesn’t do it justice. 

Rooftop restaurants: One thing India definitely does right is the roof top restaurant. Almost every hotel or restaurant has seating on the roof. You may have to walk through the kitchen, closet, bathroom  and someone’s bedroom to get there, but once you do, you are treated to amazing views of the city, the desert, or the local fort or palace. It can be especially nice at sunset. 

Meeting other travellers: Africa was so far off the beaten path that we would often go days without meeting other travellers, but here, we meet them daily. Really nice people too, from all over, each with their own story. We have spent some really nice evenings having dinner with other people, just chatting the night away.

Our old friends...

Monkeys: We had gone about two or three weeks without seeing a monkey. No one should have to go that long without seeing a monkey. They are sacred here, so similar to the cow, they cannot be harmed, and have the run of the cities. In some places you would be just standing there and a monkey would scoot right past you. They are real cheeky though, and it wasn’t uncommon to see someone chasing a monkey who had just stole their lunch.

Diwali: Diwali is the festival of lights, and it is the day when the Hindi God Lakshmi brings wealth to a household or business. Homes and businesses are lit up with candles and electric lights so that Lakshmi will not lose her way. Fireworks are also set off. I'm not quite sure what purpose they serve, but there sure were a lot of them, an were they ever loud. 

Local customs: Did you know it is illegal to kill a cow in India? The penalty is 100,000 rupees (about 2,000 USD) and up 3 years in jail. After almost having been hit by several cars trying to avoid cows in some of the cities we visited, I couldn't help but wonder what the fine for killing a tourist was - must be less than for a cow.

The Taj Mahal: I'm sure you've all seen the pictures, but it is even better in person. This would have to go on the over-hyped, but still very much worth it list.

Motorcycle Shrine

Motorcycle Shrine: As the story goes, a local pious and charitable man crashed his motorcycle on a stretch of highway and died. The police impounded the motorcycle, but the next day it miraculously reappeared at the crash site. This miracle was repeated when the police tried to impound the motorcycle again. That was all it took to convince the local people that the man’s spirit had entered into, and now lived in the motorcycle, so they set up a shrine on the side of the highway around it. This was not some event in ancient history, the crash occurred less than five years ago. Nor is it a stale inactive place, trucks and cars were parked all around the shrine, and people (including our diver) were praying and leaving gifts.

Vrindavan: Is a holy city in the Hindu religion. It is in the region where Lord Krishna spent his childhood, and there are many temples to Krishna. More interesting to me though, it is also home to the Hare Krishnas. Yes those Hare Krishnas, the ones you used to see in the airports with shaved heads and pony tails, dressed in robes asking for donations. I don't know a lot about the sect, nor why so many westerners are drawn to it, but it was a little surreal walking through the streets of an Indian town and bumping into worn out American hippies in robes on their way to a Temple. Our driver treated them as an attraction. He would nudge me and point one out whenever he saw one, almost like spotting some rare animal at a zoo.

The ramparts at Bundi Fort

Jodhpur Fort and Palace: Jodhpur's fort and palace were the best preserved and restored of all of the sights in Rajasthan. You could really get a sense of the history of the great maharajahs here and take yourself back in time to tiger hunts, elephant fights, great battles, palace intrigue and general medieval shenanigans.

Jain Temple at Ranakpur: 1444 carved marble columns, no two alike, supporting marble domes, alcoves, colonnades and statues, all in a beautiful natural setting. Maybe one of the most beautiful religious buildings I have ever seen. The sense of spirituality was somewhat diluted by the monk that asked for a tip after blessing me though.

Big juice: Alcohol is not a part of Indian culture. I'm not sure if it's illegal, but no one will sell you a beer. Instead, you order, and are charged for a "big juice", then, miraculously, a beer appears.

So that's our Rajasthan experience in a nutshell. We are in Amritsar now waiting to take the train to Varanasi (leaves in 3 hours). More on Amritsar in the next post. It is an amazing place, by far our favourite in India so far.


Michael
The Grand Hotel,
Amritsar, Punjab
India

India: First Impressions

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from India. Our reason for adding it to our list was pretty simple - how can you go around the world without seeing India? It’s just too big, important and interesting a place to skip. However, to be completely honest, I don’t know that much about India. Sure I know some basic geography and history, and unlike Africa, India actually makes into the news every once in a while, so I have some idea about current events. All of this knowledge is very superficial though, so I arrived in India basically an empty vessel, anxious to learn as much as I could. My education began at the airport.

Holy cow!

We arrived at Indira Gandhi International Airport (Delhi) at 2 am on the 24th. Let me tell you, 2 am is a really inconvenient time to arrive in a new country. We didn’t have a hotel lined up, had no local currency, and no Indian sim card for our phone. To make matters worse, all the ATMs in the airport were out of order. We were pretty tired at that point, and although the airport was very clean and modern, the thought of sleeping there didn’t really appeal to us, so we got to work. I changed some US currency for Rupees (we keep US cash with us for this kind of emergency), Colleen got a sim card and some prepaid minutes for the phone and we contacted a hotel that would take us, so by about 4 am, we were on our way. The taxi ride from the airport to our hotel was my first glimpse of India. Even though it was dark and I was tired, I was doing my best to drink it all in. Having arrived directly from Africa as we did, I couldn’t help but notice the glaring differences. Streetlights, traffic signals, 6 and even 8 lane highways, highrises, factories, shopping centres, parks, you name it, Delhi had it. At first glance, this could be any big city in Europe or North America I thought to myself… Then we passed a guy riding an elephant.  I did a bit of a double take, then checked with Colleen to make certain sleep deprivation hadn’t got the best of me - she confirmed the sighting. I should stress that this was not some side street or a dirt path, it was on the main road from the airport. Any thoughts that India might be just another humdrum destination were further put to rest when we arrived at our hotel. Colleen had to alert me to the fact that a cow was bearing down on me from behind as I got my bag out of the taxi. I suppose I knew that cows are sacred and wander the streets in India. It is one thing to know something intellectually, but being chased by a cow on a deserted city street in the early morning hours is something else altogether.

Delhi Sunset

We spent the next few days in Delhi soaking it all in. V.S. Naipal once said “There is little subtlety to India”. Based on my first impressions, I would certainly agree. As a matter of fact, I might go one further. In my short time here so far, I’ve not seen any evidence of subtlety whatsoever.  Everything seems to be at the extremes, good and bad. From the colourful saris worn by the women to the heaps of garbage in the streets, from the fantastic flavours of the food to the awful smells of excrement and garbage in the streets, from the beautiful temples and mosques to the decrepit buildings of old Delhi, from the serenity of the park at the India Gate to the cacophony of carhorns and yelling in the bazaars, everything is over the top. It all seems to hold together though, and even has its own peculiar sort of cachet, and even some real beauty. My personal favourite is the light. I don't know if it's the dust or the pollution, but there is always a haze or a fog hanging over everything. The sun is difused by this haze so that everything is bathed in this soft sort of orange - pink colour, especially at sunrise or sunset. It's really fantastic.

Street in Old Delhi

I think Colleen summed it up fairly well in her own inimitable way. We were in an autorickshaw (sort of a three wheeled motorcycle taxi) on one of the main roads in Delhi. It was a busy street with three and four story buildings packed tightly together on both sides of the street, shops and restaurants crowding the sidewalks, which were themselves crowded with people. The whole area had a feel of metropolitan hustle and bustle. Colleen turned to me and said “You know, this place is a lot like Queens (NYC)”. Just as she finished her observation, we passed a wagon being pulled by a galloping cow, the driver on the cart whipping the cow, exhorting him to greater speeds in an effort to keep up with the traffic. Colleen looked at the cart, paused, then said “I take it back, this is nothing at all like Queens”.  I hope that in the time we have here, we can get a better understanding of India, because from what I’ve seen so far, this is a pretty special and amazing place.

The Red Fort, Delhi

We’re in Rajasthan now, touring the medieval forts and palaces of the maharajas. Then we’re on to Amritsar, Varanasi and then Kathmandu.

Michael

Pearl Palace Hotel
Jaipur, Rajasthan,
India

PS Happy Diwali!

Farewell Africa

Kwaheri Africa, natumaini tutaonana tena mapeura - (Swahli for "Goodbye Africa, we have enjoyed ourselves very much").

We picked up our Visas from the High Commission yesterday, and our flight is set for Saturday afternoon - next stop India. Before we left though, we thought that we would try to summarize our overall Africa experience for you (and ourselves). Turns out that that is a much bigger task than we originally thought it might be. We saw too much, learned too much, and felt too much to describe it all in a few hundred words, I'm not sure a book could hold it all. However, since time constraints preclude us writing a book, we've scaled back our ambitious "summarize Africa" plan to a more workable "convey the flavour of the experience" plan. Even this plan fraught with difficulty. In the 9 weeks that we have been here, we have been in 7 countries from Egypt to Botswana, Zambia to Rwanda, encompassing many different languages (72 in Zambia alone), cultures, religions and geographies. We have used every means of transport imaginable (plane, train, boat, car, bus, motorcycle, dalla dalla, tuk tuk), and have stayed in all sorts of accommodations, from dingy rooms with "bucket showers" to 4 star hotels. We have seen the most incredible scenery and wildlife but have also seen the depths of poverty and urban squalor. Our experience has been... vast. We did want to do something though, so we gave it some thought and decided that we could convey some of our feelings by describing some of the good, the bad, and the ugly:


The good

Landsacpe: We've tried to describe it in our blogs, and have posted some pictures, but neither do it justice. From the vastness of the Serengeti savannah, to Rwanda and Burundi's rolling hills, to the majesty of Victoria Falls. The scenery is exactly as you remember it from the National Geographic magazines you read as a kid, only better.

Sunsets: You wouldn't think that one part of the world would have it over on everywhere else in the sunset department, but you would be wrong. Wherever we were, the blood red sun dipping below the hazy horizon would stop us in our tracks.

Wildlife: How can you describe 4 lions walking 2 meters from your open landcruiser, a mountain gorilla charging at you from the jungle, an eagle stealing your lunch...

Learning: We wouldn't presume to say that we are now experts in the ins and outs of the countries we visited, let alone Africa as a whole, that doesn't happen in a few weeks, I'm not sure it could be done in a lifetime. However, it was nice to be in a place and be able to separate reality from childhood myths, historical inaccuracies, and incompetent news coverage. Being here was a far better than any history class.

Connections: From the lady in the market in Mpulungu who spontaneously shared some of her homemade local food, to the taxi driver in Rwanda who shared some of his personal experiences, the connections we were able to make with local people really helped to enhance our trip.

Independent travel: The lack of a paycheck not withstanding, this trip is turning out to be everything we had hoped for and more. Living simply, new experiences, and facing new challenges is really all it's cracked up to be.

Fellow travelers: Africa is not the easiest place for independent travel, so meeting other travelers hasn't been that common. However, we have been lucky enough to meet a few really nice people with whom to share some of our experiences.

Beer. From the 350 cc Mosi in Zambia, to the 500 cc Serengeti in Tanzania, to the 750 cc Primus in Rwanda and Burundi, the beers kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger..


The Bad

Heat and dust: Our upbringings in the northern US and Canada did not prepare us for the climatic conditions we experienced in Africa. There were days when we thought the heat, or the blazing intensity of the sun might actually do us in. In addition, the barren landscape left us covered in a coat of dust at the end of each day. The rainy season in Rwanda was quite literally like a sigh of relief.

Misogynism: Africa is very much a male dominated society, and women tend to have more traditional, even subservient roles. As it pertained to us, that meant that many of the men would not talk to Colleen, especially when it came time to do any business (pay for hotels, request information etc.). One person even asked her when her husband would be getting back when she tried to ask a question. For those of you who know Colleen, you can just imagine how much she loved that.

Cost: There are two prices for things in Africa. The local price, and the Mzungu (white person) price. Guess which one we paid. 

BO: The combination of heat, dust, poor shower facilities and cheap soap gave us a new understanding of that "not so fresh feeling".

Bad TP: Not to go into any details, but the havoc wreaked by African food on the GI system, combined with toilet paper that could double as sand paper is a painful combination.


The Ugly

Poverty: It is difficult to describe some of the poverty we saw in a way that might have meaning to someone in a northern country. You could describe slums, or dirty children, or recite statistics, but what really struck us was the lack of old people. You could go for days without seeing an older person. It's not because they were hiding, it's because there aren't any. Life expectancies in the countries we visited were in the high forties and low fifties.

Genocide: Our visit to Rwanda was difficult. We saw very disturbing things there, and it is almost impossible to imagine that something like that could ever happen. Even harder to imaggine is the fact that it happens all the time (WW II, Cambodia, Yougoslavia, Armenia, Namibia, etc.).


Obviously this quick list just scratches the surface. We will be pondering the gifts Africa has given us for a long while, but one thing we can say for sure though is that the past 9 weeks have deeply affected us.

Next stop, Delhi. In the words of the immortal Monty Python comedy troupe "... and now for something completely different."



Colleen & Michael
Mgorogoro rd. at Libya st.

Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Parc National des Volcans: Eastern Mountain Gorillas

Describing our encounter with Rwanda's eastern mountain gorillas is a difficult task. The pictures and video will probably do a better job, but even they will only scratch the surface. It's not that I couldn't tell you exactly what hapenned, or describe how everything looked, It's that I don't have the skill to describe the sense of the experience adequately. I had a similar problem trying to describe the safari. The experience is so special, and so far from anything I've ever experienced before, that I find myself at a loss for words. In the end it's really just getting close to wild animals, but it is really so much more than that.
  

There are only approximately 700 eastern mountain gorillas left in the world. Approximately half are located in Bwindi Impenetrable Forrest in Uganda, and the other half are located in the Virunga range which consists of a string of volcanoes that straddle the borders of Rwanda, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. We would be doing our gorilla trek in the Rwandan part of the Virunga range on a Volcano called Bisoke. 

Rwanda's rolling hills

The day started off at the park ranger station, where we were broken up into groups of 8, assigned a gorilla family and instructed on some rules. Don't sneeze or cough near the gorillas, they are susceptible to human diseases, don't point at the gorillas, they could take this as a sign of hostility, and by all means, keep a 7 metre separation between yourself and the gorillas at all times. Prudent rules, easily followed. We were assigned the Ugenda group (originally studied and habituated by Jane Goodall herself), and at about 8:30 am, jumped in the Land Cruiser for the 25 minute drive through the Rwandan countryside to Mount Bisoke.  

 

Bisoke jungle

The Rwandan countryside is really beautiful. Rwanda's nickname is the land of a thousand hills (mille collines), and this nickname is justified, maybe even understated. Even from high vantage points, you can never see an end to the rolling hills, they seem to go on for ever. Also, as opposed to other East African countries we've been to, Rwanda is very verdant, and it is difficult to find a square inch (aside from soccer fields of course) that is not cultivated. The hilly farmland is the quintessential picture of a pre industrial, idyllic countryside. Small farm plots on terraced hillsides with stone fences, a few cows and goats grazing here and there, and a mud brick, thatch roof huts with wispy plumes of smoke rising from a chimeney interspersed with the multicoloured fields. Truly a beautiful sight. I mention all this because, we had to climb up the side of the volcano through this countryside in order to get to the national park where the gorillas live and are protected. A pleasant, if mildly strenuous walk accompanied by two guides and two members of the armed forces with machine guns (to protect against elephants and buffalo we were told). 

Eastern Mountain Gorillas

The Park itself (called Parc National des Volcans in Rwanda), is surrounded by a thick stone wall and ditch (to protect the farmers below from the buffalo and elephants), and it was only on the other side of the wall that we got the final briefing. Turns out that the gorillas do not respect the 7 metre rule. As a matter of fact, they frequently grab people and drag them around. We were told not to worry, that if that happened the gorillas were "just playing". Also, some gorillas charge groups of humans in order to show them who's boss. They usually stop, but whatever you do we were told, stand your ground and don't run away. Funny that they wait until you're on the other side of the wall to tell you all this. Anyway, with our 5 minute tutorial in gorilla behaviour as our main line of defense, we set off to find our group. 



Brooding silverback

Within the park, the terrain changes quickly. It is truly a jungle. Imagine a wall of vegetation of various types and sizes, all foreign to anything you've ever seen before without a hint of a path and you begin to get an idea. We forced our way through this tangle of flora for another 20 or 30 minutes until we met up with the trackers who told us the gorillas were just ahead. Our guide instructed us to drop our packs and follow him. We were thinking we would be in for another bit of a hike, so we were taken completely by surprise when less than a minute later, we rounded a corner into a clearing, and there they were. I counted 14 Gorillas. Males, females juveniles, babies and, presiding over them all, a massive silverback. 



Charging juvenile

This is where I loose the capacity to adequately describe the experience. Being that close (the gorillas did not in fact respect the 7 metre rule) to these majestic, wild animals, in their habitat, without fences or partitions separating us is beyond my ability to describe. Exhilaration, fear, awe, excitement, joy, all seem to be wrapped into one new emotion, and for the next hour (visits with the gorillas are limited to one hour), you feel like you are a 10 year old again. For the most part they didn't pay us much attention. They went about their business eating, grooming each other and lazing around as if we weren't there. Every once in a while one of them would look at you and make eye contact. Their piercing red eyes, and human faces, would make you ask what they were thinking, and force you to ponder the vagaries of evolution that put us in our respective places. We also had a few mock charges from the juvenile males (teenagers are the same the world over), and I think Colleen found something she likes less than a threatening elephant, although I'm not sure I appreciate how she shoved me in front of the gorilla as she ducked behind me. The hour up, we headed back down the mountain and back to our hotel with another gift from Africa in our hearts and memories. 



Lazy baby

The next day we bused it to Gisenyi, a small resort town on the shores of lake Kivu, which curiously enough is one of only two or three lakes in the world that are succeptible to limnic erruptions - in other words, the lake could blow up. Seriously, look it up. A similar lake in Cameroon blew up in the 80s and killed hundreds of people. The lake was beautiful, but the town turned out to have a bit of a rough edge that we didn't much care for. It is adjacent to the DRC border, was a flashpoint during the genocide and subsequent troubles in the DRC, and I'm not sure that enough time has passed here for friendly tourism. We did meet up with two girls we met on the gorilla trek though and ended up spending a lovely evening with them. Turns out they both live in Kigali. They offered us a ride back and a place to crash in Kigali for a night before our flight back to Dar es Salaam. We took them up on it and had another great day in Kigali.

We are in Dar es Salaam now waiting for our Indian visas (hopefully we can pick them up at the Indian High Commission on Tuesday), and if all else goes well, we should be off for India by the end of next week.

Michael

Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Rwanda

Rwanda is the land of a thousand hills - a fitting description which barely hints at the splendor of this tiny country in central Africa. The drive here through Burundi (see details from Michael) was harrowing but also breathtakingly beautiful. After weeks of driving through the dry season bush of Zambia and Tanzania, the rolling hills lush with banana plantations and terraced farms was a refreshing change of scenery. We were even glad to see a few clouds in the sky and to feel a hint of dampness in the air. In addition to the natural beauty, the pace of development seems more visibly evident in Rwanda than anywhere else we had been. The roads are paved or under repair, shoulders and guardrails are placed where needed, construction sites are everywhere, and fiberoptic cables are being installed. The paper reports decreased malaria rates with the distribution of mosquito nets and improving rates of childhood vaccinations. In one forward-thinking move, plastic bags have been outlawed - they're bad for the future of the environment, right? Not only are they illegal but they're subject to being confiscated if found upon a search at the border. (This was a bit inconvenient, as in addition to my laundry being in a plastic bag, I had organized my socks and unmentionables into 1 gallon ziplocks. Plus, what ever would I do with liquids? Luckily, the border guards were not zealous enough to take all of them - just confiscated a couple to show that they were doing their jobs.)

Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, is a cosmopolitan city with a vibrant international presence and prices to match. (We saw more white people within an hour of our arrival here than we had seen in the past several weeks!) There are marked roads, modern buildings, and evidence of new commerce and development at every turn. After weeks of instant coffee, we indulged a cup of delicious and aromatic Rwandan coffee, at a swanky overpriced coffee bar. The well-lit streets with wide sidewalks felt quite safe, even at night, and we even treated ourselves to our first 4-star hotel of the journey. (Did we imagine the sneers from the lobby full of businessmen and diplomates when we walked in with our tustled hair and dusty packs? We were used to being stared at for being the only Mzungu but these suits looked like they had never seen backpackers before!) The Hotel Des Milles Collines sits near the top of a hill in the center of town with a beautiful view of the surrounding hills and countryside, lounge chairs and hammocks on a manicured lawn, a poolside bar showing CNN in HD, and a fancy restaurant on the top floor. It looks like any other upscale hotel full of elegantly dressed patrons, and it is seems possible to sip a beer and read a book by the pool without considering the history of the place: the Hotel Des Milles Collines is featured in the movie 'Hotel Rwanda' which is based on the story of hundreds who took refuge there during the 1994 Tutsi genocide.
 
Indeed, it seems nearly impossible to reconcile the current 'just another up and coming international city' atmosphere in Kigali with the events that transpired in Rwanda 16 years ago.

Of course I remember studying the history of the Nazi Holocaust in gradeschool and highschool. Even though my grandfathers served in the 2nd world war, I never knew either of them and the horrific stories in my text books seemed to come from another world as well as another time. At any rate, I remember it being quite clear from the textbooks who were the good guys and who were the bad guys, and of course my countrymen had been with the good guys who not only marched into eastern Europe to shut down the concentration camps, but then got together with all the other 'good guys' in the UN to make a promise to the world that the international community would never again standby and let genocide happen (the 1948 genocide convention). I have visited the Holocaust Memorials in Boston, Washington DC and Los Angeles, and each time was hit with an appropriately solemn reverence for the victims of history as well as an appreciation for the importance of remembering such events in order that, according to the prevailing wisdom, the world would never again stand by and let such things happen. It seemed like such an easy and believable promise to come from all those powerful civilized countries. Never forget....never again.  I may have even bought one of the buttons.

But in 1994 I was a sophmore at Boston College in the midst of a weighty pre-med curriculum. I vaguely remember hearing about genocide and refugees in Africa, but although I had a quite respectable GPA, I probably could not have found Rwanda on a map. I may have watched heard on the news briefs that their were people called Tutsis and others called Hutus and that they shared a country but did not get along...but did I ever take the time to understand what was happening? Not really. It was so far away, so remote, and it probably seemed more important, if not easier, that I study my organic chemistry.

As it turns out, I wasn't the only one neglecting to pay attention to what was happening. Not that I had an excuse: if a supposedly social-justice minded college sophmore couldn't manifest a little outrage about a genocide in Africa, than it is no great surprise that, due to politics or inconvenience, others could not be bothered with it either. And so, as I visited the genocide memorial sites here in Rwanda, I could not have the comfort that I was on the team of the good guys who would never let this happen again. Instead, I faced the unsettling reality that I was a part of a large international community that chose not to pay attention as a million Rwandans were brutally murdered over the course of 100 days from April to June of 1994. (Ironically, Schindler's List topped the box offices during this time while another genocide raged on unnoticed.)

I'm not sure which part of our tour through the Rwandan memorial sites was the most powerful, but I'm quite certain that I couldn't describe any of it adequately. The driver that we hired for the day revealed that he was a Tutsi who lost 4 of 6 siblings to the genocide, who himself survived by smearing dirt on his face and wandering the town aimlessly pretending to be crazy. We visited the grenade and bullet shattered remains of Roman Catholic Churches where thousands saught refuge only to be given over to the genocidaires and murdered in the pews. Blood still stained the altar cloth and the statue of Mary and bullet holes riddled the sacristy but most striking to me were the provisions that people had brought along with them - beans, thermoses, crossward puzzles - to sustain and entertain themselves - evidence of their faith that they would survive once safe in the sanctuary of the Church. We visited the site of a mass grave where thousands were murdered just after most UN forces(from whom they had saught protection) were evacuated. In addition to the graves, the site is also now home to a center which is attempting to document the names of the victims - a daunting task given that so many families and neighborhoods left no survivors to name the dead.  Finally, we visited the Kigali Memorial Center, which contained numerous symbolic gardens to memorialize the victims as well as educational exhibits which put the genocide in the context of the history of Rwanda as well as that of other incidences of genocide (Armenians, Cambodians, Jews, Bosnians....the list is not very short).

Which brings me to history, another subject that I didn't pay much attention to in school. I remember a romanticized version of European history, a sanitized version of U.S. history, and lots of dates to memorize for exams. I don't remember learning much about the history of Africa, of the 'dark continent', of undeveloped or uncivilized countries where tribes that looked intriguing on the pages of National Geographic could turn savage at the least provocation. As I ponder the atrocities that took place in Rwanda I start to realize how little I understand about what is currently happening in Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Sudan, Somalia or any of the war torn or 'failed states' on this continent. I realize that my comprehension of current conflicts and social injustice is limited by my meager understanding of the history of these regions. Rather than 'savages in the dark continent' these are people in nations not yet 50 years free from colonization, whose borders were sketched out at conferences of European nations with no input from Africans nor consideration of their history or values.

There was too much to think about as we took a taxi back to Kigali, sat down for a cup of freshly brewed Rwandan coffee and watched the midday hustle and bustle of the people who try to move on and rebuild with memories that must be still fresh in so many minds. At first we were hardly able to talk about it, and for the most part we are left with inadequate words and more questions than answers. Although there is peace and progress on the surface in Rwanda, we wonder what sentiments live in the hearts and minds of the people there. It is difficult not to be suspicious of propaganda from a president who was just reelected with 93% of the vote. Or of the motivations of aid money that pours in from an international community that turned its back when it was most needed. A strong leader or a dictator; philanthropy or neocolonialism? The idiot's guidebook for recovery from genocide has not yet been written.
I'm not sure what the answer is, but I think it starts with paying a little more attention....for me it starts by trying to learn more about the history of this continent and to pay more attention to world events, even those that seem too far away to matter.  Since leaving the Kigali Memorial Center, I keep thinking of a line of lyrics by Ani Difranco: "cause I know the biggest crime is just to throw up your hands say this has nothing to do with me I just want to live as comfortably as I can."

Colleen
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Burundi: Fear of the Unknown

The sad reality about the world is that much of it is not really safe to travel. Choose your poison, civil unrest, wars, repressive governments, etc. any of these can make it so that a trip through a country can be unwise, if not downright unsafe.A good example would be Burundi. Burundi has had a troubled history since Independence from Belgium in the early sixties. Most recently, the country is coming off a 15 year civil war with ethnic violence claiming more than 200,000 lives, and displacing hundreds of thousands of more. While peace accords have recently been signed, and many refugees have returned, the country still faces many challenges. Burundi is one of the ten poorest countries in the world, it has the lowest per capita GDP of any nation in the world, and Although elections were held recently, political violence is still a problem and the main rebel group has not completely disarmed.

Burundi's Flag

As it (selfishly) concerns our travel plans however, Burundi is notable only as the place you have to go through to get from Kigoma to Kigali (our next destination). Look it up on a map. Straight shot from Kigoma to Bujumbura, overnight in Bujumbura, then a straight shot to Kigali the next morning. We just weren't sure if it was safe, and it was difficult to get reliable information about the current security situation in Burundi. We had met a couple in Tanzania who lived in Bujumbura, who said it wasn't that bad, and all the African people we talked to (hotel managers, the first mate on the Liemba, representative at the Burundian consulate, etc.) all insisted that Bujumbura was totally safe now. On the other hand the US State Department and Canadian Department of Foreign Affairs travel advisories were pretty dire, as were any news reports out of Burundi (the few that exist). We wouldn't have even considered going through Burundi, except that the alternatives were not very attractive. We could take a series of one way flights to back to Dar es Salaam, then on to Kigali, which was too expensive to ever be really feasible, or a take a rough series of overland bus rides through Tanzania parallel to Burundi on terrible roads in tiny, dangerous minivans with overnight stops in little villages that we knew nothing about, and uncertain means of transportation over the Rwandan border at Rusomo and on to Kigali. We discussed it a lot, and finally decided to trust the advice we were getting on the ground and go through Burundi. As with pretty much everything else we do in Africa, the trip ended up being a bit of an adventure. 



The journey started with the bus from Kigoma. We were assured by an agent at the bus station (less of a bus station than an open area in the market behind the gas station on the outskirts of town), that a bus would depart the next morning and would travel directly to Bujumbura stopping only at the border. This suited us perfectly, and we thought we were all set. Unfortunately, we did not account for swahili time. as we came to find out, Swahili speakers have a different way of telling time. Their day starts at sun up, so to them, 6am is 0, 7am is 1, 8am is 2, and so on. So between the agent's lack of english, our lack of swahili, and swahili time, something must have got mixed up, because when we showed up the next morning, no bus. There was however a stationwagon. Its driver assured us he could get us to the border where we could then easily arrange onward travel to Bujumbura. Sure, why not? So we packed in our bags, and crammed ourselves into the back seat for the one hour ride to the border. We were joined by a a Kenyan who had studied in Boston, and a Rwandan woman and her child. Actually, we ended up staying with them all the way through to Bujumbura, and I have to say that they really helped us out, and we were very thankful for their company.

The first sign that we would be in for an interesting day came about 20 minutes into the ride when two guys with machine guns flagged us down for a ride. One was wearing a military uniform and the other jeans and a soccer jersey. Not that big a deal, there are guys with guns all over Africa, and these guys just wanted a ride down the road. It definitely dampened the mood in the stationwagon while they were there though, and kind of set a tone for the rest of the day.


Our driver would only go as far as the Tanzanian side of the border, so we had to get out, get stamped out of Tanzania at the customs post, and arrange onward passage with one of the drivers waiting at the border. With the help of our fellow passengers, we were able to secure another driver with a stationwagon that would take the 5 of us through the Burundian border post and on to a town where we could arrange for a ride on a local minivan bus on to Bujumbura. Aside from raised eyebrows from the Burundian immigration authorities (I don't think a lot of whiteys pass through their post), everything went off without a hitch, I even got to use my French with the customs people and the army guards (Burundi's second language is French). That is until one of our tires blew. Small wonder really, the roads were atrocious. Of course our driver had no spare, so he had to call a colleague to bring him one. So we waited on the side of the road (more of a dirt path) for around an hour for the spare to arrive, a rather loud disagreement break out (there was some bad blood between the two drivers), and the tire change to be effected before we got back underway.  



Driving through Burundi



Before we got to the town where our driver was going to drop us off, our travel companions suggested that we pay our driver to take us all the way to Bujumbura. It would only cost us a couple of extra dollars, small price to pay for not having to deal with local buses. Our driver wouldn't do it, but he would hand us of to a friend of his in the next town that would. The only problem with the plan was that the new driver wanted to be paid in Burundian francs, not Tanzanian schillings. I only had schillings, and an ATM was at least three hours away, so, we would have to change our money with a local money changer. Anyone who has travelled in a southern country is familiar with money changers, young hustlers with wads of currency and rates that are usually better than banks or hotels walking up and down the main roads, especially near borders, trying to hawk their services. Usually they are fine, but you definitely have to be on guard. This situation required a little more attention than usual as the sudden appearance of two whiteys in a car with four Africans caused a bit of a stir in the small town. Our car was quickly surrounded by curious onlookers, not exactly ideal conditions for a financial transaction. So the money changer squeezed into the car with us and we all made our transactions as the driver drove around town away from prying eyes.  



Francs in hand, we were off to Bujumbura, and I have to say that hiring that car all the way through to Bujumbura was the best decision I have ever made. Not twenty minutes into the drive, we passed the smashed and twisted shell of a minivan bus that had recently crashed. Very recently, blood was everywhere. Our driver asked and was told by some local children that only 4 people had survived. We've seen these buses all over Africa, and they are usually very crowded, fifteen to twenty people typically. Burundi and Rwanda are very hilly countries, and the roads are steep and curvy. Add to that the fact that the minivan buses are usually on the verge of falling apart and the drivers are maniacal, you get a recipe for disaster. This was borne out when we saw another crash site half an hour later. There were fatalities our driver said, I did not ask how many.

  

Bujumbura

Aside from that, the drive was beautiful. Green rolling hills, with palm trees, acacias and even some bamboo. Terraced farm plots on impossibly steep hills surrounding small mud brick homes that seemed to be shoved into the mountainside. All the while Lake Tanganyika and the mountains of the Congo looming in the distance. We hadn't really seen anything green in a couple of months, so this was almost like a relief to us, and we were glued to the window drinking it all in. The only thing that interrupted our sightseeing was the frequent army and police checkpoints. They were a little intimidating at first. There is something unnerving about having a bunch of guys with machine guns rifle through your stuff. Not to mention the fact that every time we would stop, a large group of onlookers would surround our car. I don't think non-africans have used this road in ages, and we must have made quite a sight. Our travel companions gave us the scoop on what was really going on though. It was Saturday, and the policemen and soldiers were just looking for bribes so they could go drinking after they got off their shift. Actually, you could see it in our driver's face, a sort of "aw come on guys" look as he watched his profits disappear at each checkpoint. Also, we were told that they were probably just curious to see what might be in a white person's bag. 



We reached Bujumbura around one thirty and had the driver drop us off at a hotel we had looked up previously. Bujumbura was great. Because of the trouble they've had here, the city has had no real development in decades, and seems to be stuck in a time warp. It is an up and comer though. coffee / tea houses (Burundi grows some first rate coffees and teas), trendy bars and restaurants, new construction etc. all point to a revival, and we felt completely safe there, to the point that we even walked around a bit at night. We loved it. As a matter of fact, I would say that to date, Bujumbura is my favourite African city.  



In writing all of the above, I've tried to sound clever and try to be a little entertaining in telling the story. I can do that now because it is over and we are safe. In fact, while it was all happening, I was quite anxious, even downright afraid. I think that it has to do with not knowing. For example, Philadelphia is a dangerous city, probably more dangerous in parts than anywhere in Burundi, and we lived there for years with no problems. The difference is that I know where the problems are in Philadelphia and can easily avoid them. This is obviously not the case in places you visit for only a short time and know nothing about. While I think that we made the right decision to rely on the information we obtained from local people, the information could have been incomplete or flat out wrong, and it may have been dumb luck that we made it through unscathed. Having said that, I'm glad we chose to go through Burundi. I know that we were only there for a day, but my definite impression is that the country is on the right path, and it's just that the world doesn't know it yet. I also feel like we were lucky to be able to see Burundi at this stage in their history. I would bet that if we were to go back in ten years, we wouldn't recognize the place.



welcome to Rwanda



Anyway, the next day we boarded a bus for Kigali. The border crossing went off without a hitch and three hours later, we were in Rwanda's capitol. Rwanda is stunning. The hills go on forever dotted with small towns and terraced fields climbing up the hillsides. The drive from the border to Kigali had some of the most stunning scenery I've ever seen. However,. I have to say that I felt a little uneasy about being in Rwanda. The Genocide there was not so long ago, and I'm not sure exactly how to feel about being surrounded by victims, perpetrators and collaborators of such a heinous thing. The next few days would chrystalize some of those feelings, but you'll have to wait for Colleen's next posting for that

Michael

Ruhengeri (Musanze), Rwanda