charliew's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries TravelStream™ news feed for member charliew on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/charliew en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:19:09 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com Huge surprises — Harare, Zimbabwe http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183024320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183024320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183024320/tpod.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:19:09 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Harare, Zimbabwe

We only spent 24 hours in Mozambique heading straight through to Zimbabwe. Before we reached Tete - the major northern town of Mozambique - we didn't see a single house made of concrete. Every settlement we passed was constructed of mud, sticks and grass thatch. While it seemed there is even less money in Mozambique, the atmosphere, however, seemed a lot lighter than it had in Malawi; and Tete was positively bustling in comparison to Blantyre.

We spent the night camping in the middle of the bush, building the usual fire to cook on, not straying too far from the camp for fear of peeing on a landmine and sitting around playing 'Mafia' - a highly argumentative game; good for those prone to telling untruths (such as my husband); which is like a more complicated version of 'Murder in the Dark'. It became the theme of the trip - turning many a dull 10 hour drive into full scale inter-truck warfare.

The next morning we crossed apprehensively and expectantly into Zimbabwe where we would spend the next two weeks. I had so many preconceptions about what Zimbabwe would be like, from seeing so many news reports about the murder of white farmers and the hideousness of Mugabe, that I was truly astounded by the country. Whilst I seem to say this about everywhere we visit, Zimbabwe is a stunningly beautiful country. Everywhere you go there are strange rock formations that made a huge impact on the landscape and really make it visually different from the countries around it and there are so many things for a visitor to do, but sadly there are practically no tourists anymore.

Our first stop was the capital Harare. When we arrived we went straight to a nearby orphanage where we dropped off loads of blankets, food, footballs, books that we'd bought to donate to the kids there. It seemed really well run and the kids happy and healthy. And then in contrast to the sadness and poverty we'd seen all day we went and did what western people do best and got drunk and danced on a bar - seems really wrong considering the total lack of money that people around us have.

We spent the following day wandering around Harare, walking past Mugabe's presidential residence whilst soldiers made another man walking past stand in a ditch with his hands on his head for no apparent reason; visiting the lovely central gardens and the cricket ground (where the matches that were boycotted by the Ozzies would have taken place); stopped to watch some Pentecostal Church (they're the real nutters) concert where the 200+ audience suddenly got up from their seats and started legging it around the grounds in time with the music. When we asked why this was happening we were informed that the congregation were physically "looking for Jesus". Explains why they kept looking under chairs. Ben and I then walked around the main shopping area - which totally surprised us by how attractive, spacious, clean and cosmopolitain it seemed in comparison to other African cities / capitals - we stopped to watch some guys dancing and inadvertently became the butt of their jokes to the rest of the watching crowd - which had everyone pointing at us and laughing. We slunk away feeling mightily miffed but too English to do anything about it.

We left Harare headed for Gweru further south where we would be staying outside the town in a place called Antelope Park. This is a private game reserve where the owners have created the first lion rehabilitation programme in Africa - as believe it or not lions are on the 'vulnerable' list (i.e. not endangered but heading that way if the silly (mostly American and Spanish) idiots who need to go and shoot a lion to prove their masculinity carry on the way they are going). They have inherited several lions from zoos around Africa/the world and give the lions more freedom than they would have previously had, they then use these lions to breed from and reintroduce the cubs to the wild when they are old enough and deemed capable of hunting and defending themselves in the big wide world. The project has been running for 7 years and they are releasing their first lot of 2 year old lions this August, so hopefully they'll be able to cut it.

So the main reason for going here is essentially to give our tourist money to a project which has no governmental funding and also to get our kicks by seeing the King of Beasts up close and personal. This was done by going for a walk with year old cubs - cubs they may be but they're still a lot bigger than you're average rottweiler and seven hundred times more deadly (oh, and far better looking); playing with the real babies; and for me going on a "Lion Stalk". They really are the most incredible creatures; the power, the speed, the disdainful way the look at you.

Anyway getting back to the Lion Stalk, this involved going out in the dark to follow two of the older cubs (2 and half years old so pretty much fully grown) to see if they could successfully hunt and eat anything moving. This is part of the rehabilitation process and is no doubt a good idea, but you do wonder if there will be big trucks searching with spotlights to point out the nearest zebra for the lion to attack when they're released back into the wild .... That said, it was incredible. The lions are released from their enclosure, spend half an hour roaring - a noise that reverberates so loudly it is totally indescribable - at the big old fellas in the next door enclosure - you like their style; much younger and allowed out to prowl around and so having a go at their superiors from the other side of the fence. Tough guys. Then after much banging of dustbin lids from the keepers our two lions got bored and trotted off to go find themselves some supper.

It took a while. To be honest, despite not having eaten for 5 days they didn't really seem that they could be bothered. They walked a long way ignoring a couple of zebra and a duiker and then lay down for a bit whilst the keepers waved a light at some ostrich about 200 metres away. And then it happened. The ostriches got up and started jogging in an ostrich fashion away and the next thing you know the lions have flashed across the gap in between them and the birds - faster than you would ever think possible - leapt through the air and brought down the female ostrich in a flurry of feathers, kicking legs, wildly stabbing beak (the ostrich not the lions) and vicious claws. What followed was pretty gruesome but strangely compelling as we watched the two lions eat the ostrich alive. They hadn't figured out how to kill it so whilst it was having it's stomach eaten and was looking at us saying "why are you just sitting there, why don't you help me?" it was also wildly kicking its legs looking like it might actually make a break. It evenutally died after 25 minutes, by which time we'd seen pretty much all our stomachs could take. I know it sounds incredibly gory to watch something like that, but if you think of it in terms of survival and seeing some of the most incredible animals on the planet in action, then it's pretty special.

The next day we all went horse riding to see game - apparently you can get much closer on a horse, because the animals smell the horse before you so aren't scared of you. They may not have been, but I was terrified. I don't know why I do it. I stopped riding when I was 12 because I was fed up with falling off horses, and every time I've done it since then I've just been plain scared. I spent the whole time causing the horse immense amounts of pain as I pulled tightly on the reigns and not letting it go above a fast walk. That, however, changed when we were told we had to get back quick smart to the stables unless we wanted to go the same way as the ostrich, as they were letting some of the lions out for one of the walks. The only thing that made it bearable was laughing at Ben's constant cries of pain as he tried to get to grips with a rising trot and failed; "I'm never ever doing this again" he repeated as a kind of mantra to get over what was happening to his bits and pieces.

We left Antelope the next day, really in awe of Simba and absolutely bloody freezing having woken up in our tents to frost on the ground every day. Next stop Bulawayo, via the Great Zimbabwe Ruins. The ruins are an old city strategically place on a hillside, after which former Rhodesia was renamed (it means something about a house, but I can't remember what). They are the oldest and most complete ruins in Africa - dating back to between 1100 and 1500 - about the same time as the Incas in South America with similar engineering systems - but not as advanced. As with everything we visited in Zimbabwe (apart from Vic Falls) we were the only visitors there, but it was great to see something that harks back to the pre-colonial era of Africa, as there is very little as most older things have been destroyed in the countless wars on the continent.

We arrived in Bulawayo late and stayed in a lovely campsite that actually had hot showers - soooooooo exciting.

We spent a day sampling the delights of Bulawayo and buying blankets to stave off the cold (don't be expecting no tan from me now, it's winter in Africa) and then the following day (29 June), we went to Matopo National Park, 50k's outside the city. Here we were going to go find us some rhinos to look at. Our guide was a gruff 50 something white Zimbabwean whose first words to us were "You can ask me any questions about anything you like, but no politics". Having said that, over the course of the day, whilst getting withing 5 metres of 7 year old wild rhinos (which was absolutely terrifying), we learnt that: Wally never carried a gun when out with the animals because "He'd spent 14 years seeing enough killing in the war"; that his co-guide was just getting back in the saddle after losing two of his clients to a charging elephant 6 months ago; and that despite his passion for the country and for his job, he was going to have to move to Australia because the state of Zimbabwe's economy was making it impossible for him to live there anymore.

Wally told us that inflation was currently at 4,000% (less than a week later it was at 8,000%); the government keep knocking zeros of the currency, so any savings/money he has are totally devalued. When we arrived we got 115,00 Zim dollars to the US dollar so 230,000 to the pound (changing 100USD involved receiving a stack of cash a foot high), however that was the black market rate, the official exchange rate is 250ZD to the US dollar, yet a loaf of bread costs around 100,000 when we were there, making it impossible for locals to even buy essentials - particularly when - as we witnessed, the price of goods literally doubles overnight. There are huge problems with electricity. Nowhere has a constant supply because it is routed from South Africa yet the Zim government doesn't pay the bills so South Africa limit the supply Zimbabwe can have. Listening to all this you soon realise that the grand appearance of the cities is a facade and that the country is on its knees. I have no idea how people survive - it seems the relatively well off Zimbabweans have it hard, so what about the millions who have nothing. And that is without the repression, intimidation and violence that we also heard about. You wonder for how much longer a country can keep going like that.

From our amazing encounter with the rhinos and Wally, we went to look at some Bushman cave paintings dating back 10,000 years and then raced back to Bulawayo to catch the overnight train to Victoria Falls. This was fairly traumatic as one of the girls got mugged on the way to the station, we nearly missed the train, and had to climb over the tracks to get to the right platform, with me shouting at everyone to not step on the rails for fear of electrocution. It took somebody to point out that it was a diesel train and there was no live track before I shut up, slightly put out!

The train journey was like being on brownie camp we were all so excited, but our intentions to have a huge party went to the wall as we realised that whilst we lorded it in our sleeper compartments, the train was crammed with people using every available space to sit, stand and sleep and it really wasn't appropriate. We arrived in Victoria Falls about 9 the next morning having had the best night's sleep in ages; loving the old wooden panelled train and with me beside myself with excitement about seeing Victoria Falls which I've wanted to see since I was about 10.

So the next few days were spent seeing the Falls from every angle imaginable. We walked down to them on the Zim and Zam (Zambian) sides (as the falls and the Zambezi river mark the border between the two countries). I went in a little plane and bumped around above them, getting very excited by the millions of rainbows. We went on a river cruise on the upper Zambezi - supposedly to see all the wildlife, but really to drink as much as we could from the free bar in two hours and be so drunk we couldn't walk by 7pm. And then the next day, so hungover we couldn't see straight, we went white water rafting. We had decided in South America that we would save rafting for the Zambezi which is supposed to be the best in the world and is a series of Grade 5 rapids. As there had been so much rain, the river was a lot higher so the number of rapids you could do was less and there weren't as many Grade 5's. I was still really excited about it and was leaping around like a small child before we got in the boat and squealing ridiculously as we went through the first few rapids. Then we hit the biggies and of course we flipped over. I held on until the very last minute and so ended up underneath the raft. Every time I came up I hit one of the seats so couldn't get to any air. I thought I was going to die, managed to drag myself and somebody else out from under the boat, breathed in some air and promptly had a panic attack. Ben had a less traumatic experience, mainly because every time he fell in - which became numerous - he managed to cling onto somebody else and drag them with him. One time, whilst Ben clung onto the side of the boat, poor Mike - who was the person I'd already rescued from under the boat when we'd flipped - ended up bobbing off down the river ahead of us having to be rescued by a canoeist. All the while Ben's holding on tightly to the boat, the two other lads in the boat - Dave and Gary - were wetting themselves laughing and I was still trying to breathe normally. Hmmm not sure I'll be going rafting again.

We had four days in Victoria Falls to enable all the different 'activities' (boy do I hate that word) to be done. Our driver Stu hadn't been feeling too hot for a while and got substantially worse whilst we were there and was eventually - after days of hallucinating and the like - diagnosed with malaria, poor guy. As he is in Africa long term he can't take anti-malarials and it seems he contracted it when we were in Malawi. This meant all sorts of things for him and, for us, that we had to stay an extra day in Zimbabwe so another driver could get to us, as obviously Stu was in no condition to drive. He made a pretty speedy recovery over the next couple of weeks, but god was he ill. Lesson learnt - take those malaria drugs now everyone - despite what people say they do work.

So Zimbabwe is definitely worth visiting and my concerns about doing so helping to support Mugabe's regime were unfounded. Our tourist money does get to people who need it when we buy souvenirs and food and so on and people want outsiders to know that it's not the hideously unsafe country it is made out to be in the media. That said, we obviously saw mainly tourist spots and you absolutely cannot talk about Mugabe because you can get into serious trouble. One of our guides told us about how he had been beaten so severely for not wanting to vote for Mugabe in the so called 'free' elections that he spent 3 months in hospital.

Eventually on the 5th July we said goodbye to some of the guys, welcomed some new ones and with a new driver and a malaria delirious extra passenger we left Victoria Falls and crossed the nearby border into Botswana - possibly the dullest country in Africa.
]]> Stuck under a raft — Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183493700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183493700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183493700/tpod.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 05:15:23 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

Up it, over it, around it, on it.
]]> Walking with Lions — Antelope Park, Gweru, Zimbabwe http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1186563900/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1186563900/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1186563900/tpod.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 05:11:33 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Antelope Park, Gweru, Zimbabwe

Lions
]]> Walking with Rhinos — Bulawayo, Zimbabwe http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183144800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183144800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1183144800/tpod.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 05:10:14 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Bulawayo, Zimbabwe

Wally the Ranger
]]> A brief sojourn in Mozambique — Tete Corridor, Mozambique http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1182436200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1182436200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1182436200/tpod.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 05:08:16 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Tete Corridor, Mozambique

Watch out for mines
]]> Leopard print t-shirts and walking dollar signs — Mzuzu, Malawi http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1181921400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1181921400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1181921400/tpod.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 04:55:34 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Mzuzu, Malawi

So much has happened since I last wrote that a summary is necessary to avoid boring you all to death. Bear with me on this one - it takes a while to get going ....

Before leaving our voluntary posts in Longido, we crammed a few sightseeingy things in, visiting Ngorogoro Crater in northern Tanzania on our first wedding anniversary (27 May) and spending a weekend watching wonderful lions, rhino and heaps of other wildlife and drinking a bottle of Cloudy Bay Pelorus 'champagne' we'd lugged all the way from New Zealand - well worth it. The crater is incredible, the largest intact caldera in the world - about 20km in diametre - with the most abundant wildlife. The crater has it's own water source and the walls act as a natural barrier so that most of the game that lives there, stays there and doesn't really move away. As a result you're more or less guaranteed sightings of the 'Big 5' (lion, buffalo, rhino, elephant and leopard). This does however mean that it is a bit theme park-esque as there are loads of jeeps driving around; but it is absolutely beautiful and it's easy to get complacent when everywhere you turn there are marvellously striped, spotted, coloured or funny-looking animals. We tried not to get our hopes up but were desperate to see lions as we hadn't seen any on our honeymoon (also leopard, but they are so elusive we were realistic about that). And we were duly rewarded with a sleepy pride of females with a year old male and some tiny cubs. We spent hours watching them and when the male lion walked right next to the jeep I was so excited my legs were shaking!

We also visited Lake Manyara - a less well known but equally beautiful National Park which is known for its large elephant population. We spent a couple of hours watching a troop of 60 elephants feeding, washing and playing - it was absolutely incredible, they are the most intriguing creatures. Really bright, really sociable, and really scarily huge ... and aggressive if you mess with them.

After a weekend of being real tourists we headed back to Longido for our final week. I spent the week writing up the findings of my research and recommending that the agency go ahead with setting up a small grants programme to assist people living with HIV/AIDS in the village as well as an awareness raising programme. How could I not? People there have nothing but family and friends and if they have HIV/AIDS they don't even have that thanks to the misunderstanding and stigma that is so prevalent. The whole project was one of the most emotionally challenging things I have ever done and hopefully will ever experience but also one of the most rewarding. I was very sad to leave, particularly as I would love to be involved in setting up the actual grants programme. I was also sad to say goodbye to Corey and Jo - the Canadians who are working with the peculiar Mr Ngemela and his team that are Longido 's Community Based Organisation and gave me so much insight into what development work is all about. They were a complete inspiriation in their knowledge and attitude to life. This sounds like an Oscar acceptance speech so I'll shut up, but just so you know how fulfilling doing voluntary work can be, not least because of the people you meet and the communities you get a little peek into.

Anyway, our last day in Longido soon rolled around and Ben and I spent the afternoon saying goodbye to the women in the jewellery market, buying things in the other market and trying to take photos without offending people, which is not easy. On the way back I had seen a little two year old girl - she was staring at me so I said hello to her in Swahili and asked her name, she continued staring at me so I bent down to tickle her tummy - bad idea - she burst into tears at the weirdo Mzungu touching her and I could hear her screams for the rest of the afternoon - oh the guilt. We got back to find a neatly written timetable for the evening's farewell activities pushed under our bedroom door by Alais (our host). There was even an entry for handwashing and saying grace before dinner and one that mentioned 'gifts from the UK'. Ah. Not so many of those about our persons, so I set to work making a thank you card and scraping shillings together as a donation to their solar panel fund. The family's generator blew up the second week we were there. They couldn't afford to run it in the first place - meaning light in the evenings on average twice a month - let alone fix it so they've started saving for solar panels. I have to say, whilst it was irritating sometimes, I kind of liked the evenings sitting around lit only by kerosene lamps with that lovely comforting smell they have.

The evening was gorgeous. Firstly a slap up feast of meat (read bone) stew, cabbage, fried bananas, chapatis and roast potatoes that Mama and Agness had spent all day preparing. This was followed by a speech from Alais saying what wonderful guests we'd been, that we never complained about anything, we ate all the food put in front of us and just got on with the very basic facilities. We were touched by that as it seems other guests had complained about things, which we found unbelievable; we are guests in someone else's house in one of the poorest countries in the world - how can you complain? Ben gave a speech, we exchanged 'gifts' and then came the singing. The whole family sang - harmoniously - a couple of beautiful hymns (in Maa) for us. We had been pre-warned that this was going to happen and we'd be expected to reciprocate so I'd asked my darling cousin Kate to text me some lyrics for a song that we thought might be fun and go down well which she very kindly did, otherwise we'd have been very embarrassed. Although possibly not as embarrassed as we were at the stony silence that greeted our tuneless-interspersed-with-giggles-and-highly-inappropriate rendition of Disney's "The Bear Necessities of Life". Hmmmmm. We soon got over that as Ben made everyone laugh with a second thank you song, to the tune of the Roses advert from years ago. To be honest they all loved Ben so much he could get away with pretty much anything. Not that I'm bitter.

It was a lovely, lovely evening and one we'll remember for a long time. We were especially touched that lovely Ruth (Mama's sister) came to say goodbye as she was so sick - suffering from a bout of Malaria. So the next morning we shouldered our ever growing packs and wandered to the main road to get a ride to Arusha. So sad, but on the upside I will never have to use that pit loo ever again!

We left Longido on the 1st June and had five days before we were due to meet up with Oasis Overland truck that will ferry us over the next two months to Cape Town. I spent the first two of those days in tears about leaving Longido, which I wasn't expecting at all, whilst spending the weekend with the other volunteers from Mondo in Moshi and visiting waterfalls at the foot of Kilimanjaro and then the remaining three days Ben convinced me to climb Mount Meru with him. Idiot.

Mount Meru is the second highest mountain in Tanzania at 4566m after Kilimanjaro (which is obviously the largest in Africa at 5895m and slightly higher than El Misti at 5822m which we had climbed in Peru) and the fifth highest in Africa. Meru is supposedly more challenging than Kili (altitude aside) and much more beautiful. We don't know as we didn't have time to do Kili, but Meru was quite enough thank you very much. It was the usual type of mountain hiking affair ... walking through the foothills of the crater in the stunning Arusha National Park skirting scary looking herds of buffalo and coming face to face with a family of five beautiful giraffe - probably the most elegant and long-lashed creature on the planet - and walking in the sweltering heat up a very very steep hill. Fortunately the first day wasn't too long and not that difficult and the views were stunning - the views up to the peak however were slightly intimidating. Meru is an extinct volcano half of whose crater has collapsed and is therefore unual looking but very attractive. In the centre of the crater is what is called the Ash Cone which is a kind of secondary crater which you look down on from the top - absolutely unlike anything I've ever seen and so cool to see from below, alongside and above. We arrived at a surprisingly plush hut where we were to spend our first night with a slap up meal cooked by our guide, a lovely couple from Hawaii (typical all-American kinda guys), and a couple of mice who kept us in fear and awake all night eating the chocolate that was in my bag on the floor. We were both so freaked out by the noise - it took us ages to work our what it was and even longer to figure out that we should put the bag on the top bunk, that we slept in the same tiny bed for mutual support and didn't sleep a wink!

The following day was much longer but not as tough and included an acclimitisation climb up a secondary peak called Little Meru so our lungs could get used to the thinner air and there was less chance of getting altitude sickness. Then it was another very early night - fortunately no mice this time, just our fear keeping us awake - and at midnight we started the "summit ascent". This was the most beautiful and dramatic mountain climbing we've done on our trip. The path to the top takes you right around the edge of the semi-crater so you have a very steep slope to your right that takes you down to the national park and a sheer drop to your left which leads to pretty much certain death in the centre of the crater (no lava - just a long way down). Bear in mind we were doing this in the dark and freezing cold - it was pretty terrifying but stunningly beautiful in the moonlight and there is a satisfying rhythmn you get into as you trudge up the steep sandy (well ashy) slope of the rim. It seemed to take forever to get to the top and the last 100 vertical metres were sheer hell. We were totally exhausted and almost beaten and then Ben fell back down 10 metres and nearly tumbled all the way back down causing my heart to stop. Fortunately he sustained just a couple of scraped knees and a red-face from tripping over his own feet. We arrived at the summit (or "summited" if you want to be pretentious) just as the sun was rising and all the pain and fear was blown away by the absolutely breathtaking sight of Kilimanjaro in the distance with nothing but the sun rising behind her and a bed of downy cloud separating us on high from the mere mortals down below. It was just beautiful.

Then there was the lengthy and very painful (knees and toes) stumble back down the way we had come which was even more terrifying as it was light so we could see where we were going to end up if we fell. I do wonder what motivates us to put ourselves through so much pain and exhaustion for 15 minutes (max) of standing on a chilly and precarious summit. Would do it all again though, now the memories of the pain are subsiding.

We got back to the bottom - got a certificate and then went back for a much needed shower, had dinner with Paul and Nicole (not Lord and Lady H in Chester but the Hawaian couple) and collapsed into bed with the realisation that that was the end of our Mondo Challenge Tanzanian sojourn and the next day we would be joining our Oasis Overland Truck to make our way over the next 8 weeks to Cape Town meandering through the rest of Tanzania, Malawi, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Namibia and South Africa.

We were slightly apprehensive about this as we'd just spent 6 weeks living in an African home and experiencing real African life, and were slightly scared that we'd be on a bus full of 18 year olds drinking and shagging their way through Africa. We'd researched the independent travel route, but the only way to get through many countries is with your own transport and this was neither finanically or time viable and neither of us know a gasket from a oil filter so we'd be stuffed if we broke down. With hindsight we probably could do it with more money and more time, but the Big Yellow Fun Bus - as one of our co-passengers calls the truck - is a fantastic experience in its own way. And it's not all 18 year olds. Although there is a certain amount of tent-hopping amongst our buddies. On the other hand I have to say it's quite refreshing to be out of the Old Married Circuit for a few weeks and engage in some good honest gossiping!

So a bit about the Truck (both the driver and the "tour leader" are very precious about the fact the truck is a truck and not a bus - probably some misplaced snobbery about not confusing them with package tour reps). It's big, it's yellow, it has a 'beach' which is open roofed and enables sight-seeing/sunbathing/sick bed for those who overindulged the night before; the seats are along the sides and face in so we can talk, argue, sleep and play inpromptu games of in-bus volleyball and Mafia; it has loads of lockers and hideyholes for all our bags and food/cooking stuff and so on (for those of you like me who love a jacket or handbag that has loads of zips and hidden pockets so it takes you ages to find anything, you'd love this) and that's pretty much it.

Our fellow passengers are a mixed bunch of brits, a couple of kiwis and a token swede, crazy dane and an aussie and range from 19 to 39 in age - although I'm the oldest bird by 2 months which is very upsetting. There are / have been between 20 and 24 of us so there are enough people that if you hate someone you can avoid them, but it is still a manageable number and on the whole we get on a like a house on fire, except for Kim the Great Dane who is the strangest man I have ever met, severely lacks any social niceties and talks about his single tent antics far too much to be pleasant. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that this is a camping trip - out of the 54 plus days we're on the road, only about 8 are spent in a proper bed. Being a seasoned camper with 20+ years notched up this is fine, however, frost on the ground, gale force winds and camping in game reserves with lions make it a little hairy if hysterically funny (with more emphasis on the former) at times.

Due to our Meru expedition we joined the trip in Arusha on 6th June rather than at the start four days earlier in Nairobi, feeling very superior to everyone as we'd done our "Real Africa Experience" however this soon disappated when we realised that a) nobody cared and b) that most of them are on the start of a round the world trip and ours is rapidly drawing to a close. Boo.

So we leave Arusha on the 7th of June at some godawful time of the morning and are introduced to everyone again as we couldn't remember who was who from the dark of the night before and we bump and wobble our way for 14 (believe it) 14 hours to Dar es Salaam - the commercial capital of Tanzania. Ben and I were speechless that it would take so long as it only took us 9 on the way there, but as the truck does a top - allowed - speed of 80 kph (which later on I almost reached sandboarding at a winning-top-speed of 76kph!) and there was the first of several run-ins with dodgy coppers looking for an extra buck by claiming we'd broken the speed limit ("no we haven't, have tackometer that is not true")/ failed to stop ("no we didn't you only jumped out as we passed") plus numerous other spurious reasons for fining us - it is not wholly surprising that we arrived in the dark, bored, tired and grumpy and wondering what the hell we were doing on this trip.

We spent our first night getting to know everyone and then the next morning we went our separate ways to Zanzibar. Ben and I decided we'd spend some time by ourselves and relive our honeymoon there. We spent four gorgeous days lying on the white squeaky sand beach, eating great fish - including an enormous crab - messing around in the most turquoise seas ever and reading book after book after book. Fab fab fab. Then it was back to Dar to hook up with the rest of the guys and begin the journey south through some spectacular scenery to the Malawi border.

Border crossings in Africa are not nearly the corrupt bribe-rich shambles I thought they would be, very simple and just like those in South America where there is little to tell you you've crossed a border. That said, the relative wealth of one country to the next becomes very apparent almost immediately and I don't know whether it's just my attitudes projected onto where we are but you also have a change in atmosphere. For example, while Tanzanians always bang on about everything being "pole pole" - slowly, slowly - there, they want to visit Malawi where nothing is ever done in a rush and the whole country has an eerie quietness to it, seemingly as everyone is so relaxed about things. We spent most of our week in Malawi lying on the lovely beaches that line the beautiful Lake which dominates the entire country. The one aspect of our Malawian adventure that irritated me is that I learnt very little about the country, it's politics and why - for example - it is so much poorer than Tanzania (apart from the obvious tourism that Tanzania has in its favour) - however, I'm now reading up on it so can say it's mainly to do with super-corrupt despot dictator Hastings Banda who was president for numerous years; completely repressed everybody to the point where women were not allowed to wear trousers - at all - and kept any money the country did have for himself - nice - but seemingly a theme prevalent across most of post-colonial Africa.

We spent some time visiting one of the villages near where we were staying, including a visit to the school and the hospital (where I wanted to ask lots of questions about HIV/AIDS as I believe the situation is worse in Malawi than it is in Tanzania - but was fobbed off apparently because there is even more stigma there than in the former), which was interesting but it soon became apparent it was purely a visit to fleece us for donations to the hospital/school/church/bar/carvers/each and every family - which of course we willingly contributed to, but it does make you feel like a walking dollar sign. It's totally understandable, but you soon realise that we are only intruding in these communities and people are so desperate for money that there is absolutely no shame in asking anyone who appears better off than you for help. That was also clear in Longido.

Our first night was spent in Chitembe, where we got drunk, started to get to know our truck-buddies and realised that we had to accept this part of our trip as the sociable, make-friends period and any limited cultural and political information would be a bonus. From Chitembe we drove to Kande Beach stopping off at one of the larger towns on route. Mzuzu was just as quiet and underpopulated as the villages we'd seen. We spent ages wandering around the tomato-rich market (you wonder how anybody makes any money when they all sell the same produce and limited amounts at that - but I suppose that's the point - people don't really make any money) and me and my fellow cook groups members - Pam and Andy got very over-excited about the aubergines.

We also stopped off at the largest second-hand clothes market I have ever seen. If you ever wondered where your donations of dodgy 80's polka-dot ra-ra skirts to Oxfam ended up, look no further than the majority of the population of central and east Africa. It's quite disconcerting seeing guys walking down the muddy streets of remote villages wearing 'New York Marathon finisher' or 'I've been to Cancun, Mexico' t-shirts when you're pretty sure they haven't. It's even more ironic that we were buying t-shirts there only to take them back to source.

Anyway aside from a bit of gawping and giggling at the Things We Used to Wear, the purpose of our visit to the market was to buy a t-shirt for our truck buddies for a sort of secret-santa-style event, the results of which were later revealed. I was the amused recipient of a lime green top bearing the legend "My other boyfriend is way hotter" and Ben got to wear a tassel shouldered leopard print crop top - mm mmmmm for our night of hog roast, darts and drinking on the beach.

19th June we left for Blantyre, commercial capital of Malawi stopping on the way to buy mice on a stick for Gary the Meat Freak to eat. I'm sure they were lovely, but the fur would have put me off... We arrived late, there didn't seem to be much to do, so Ben and I tucked into a rather nasty bottle of 'Malawi Gin'. By the end of the evening Kiwi Karen had convinced me to make 'poached eggs' (better not to ask); I'd held a competition of who has the best fringe and Ben had chucked Karen and I fully clothed in the subzero swimming pool. An hour later Ben and I 'had words' ... loudly which I don't think can be attributed to the pool so much as the evil gin. The subsequent hangover made Blantyre - which seems little larger than my hometown - seem totally depressing only lifted by Karen exacting her revenge on Ben and enlisting 4 of the boys to chase Ben around the campsite until he was cornered and thrown in the pool. I was very impressed by her delegation.

Malawi seems like a beautiful place and people we met were very friendly, but we didn't really feel like the trip had enabled us to learn much about it other than to see whilst we were travelling that people really have absolutely nothing. Leaving Malawi we drove along the Tete Corridor in Mozambique (where all the guns were smuggled during the civil war) on our way to Zimbabwe.

More to come very soon ....
]]> Keeplefti — Longido, Tanzania http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1177759800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1177759800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1177759800/tpod.html Sat, 19 May 2007 04:12:31 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Longido, Tanzania

Did you know that the Swahili for roundabout is "keeplefti"? That made my day yesterday.

So we've been at our voluntary work placement in northern Tanzania for four weeks now and it is quite the most mind-blowing experience of my life. During our trip through South America and New Zealand we've seen incredible things, done incredible things and seen ways of lives totally different to our own. Now we're living that totally different way of life - if only for a few weeks - and I don't really know how to describe it.

To start from the beginning; after leaving life as we know it (even if it was an ozzie version) with Pru and Ross in Sydney we got on a 14 hour flight to Johannesburg (along with the entire Blues Super 14 Rugby team - which was enough to make all the women on the flight go into a flutter - I have never seen such huge specimens of humanity!), spent one night in a lovely little hostel near Jo'burg airport then jumped on another plane the following morning to take us to Dar es Salaam - the commercial capital of Tanzania. Mondo Challenge - the UK based charity who have organised our volunteer placements - had everything brilliantly organised so when we arrived at Dar we were met by a young guy (Jacob) who drove us to his family home where we would be staying the night before getting a bus for the 9 hour trip to Arusha. Here we had our first taste of African hospitality (more of which to come) including a delicious stew seemingly made from only bananas. I was feeling a little tired and overwrought so had a kip whilst Ben decided to go for a walk around the neighbourhood. He was dissuaded by Jacob who suggested he go with him to collect his sister from Dar University instead. The whole university had shut down that day due to a student strike over non-payment of grants so all the students were having to leave - this was causing complete chaos. Ben decided to go for the 15 minute drive but when I woke up 3 hours later he still wasn't back. I was starting to get a little concerned as we were in a very strange place with no way of contacting each other, it was dark and our collective Swahili consisted of only 'Jambo' (hello). I nervously went into the living room and was assured by Mama that they'd be back soon enough. Half an hour later the car comes through the gate and Ben tells me tales of the university where amongst all the chaos of having to leave the students still have to go to get a piece of paper signed from the other side of town to prove they haven't nicked any university property and then take that to the gate when they try to pass through - this was our first experience of Tanzanian bureaucracy. Then as they were leaving the car ran out of petrol so Jacob and Ben had to wait for an uncle to bring a container for fuel and then run (as it was about to get dark) through the rain and mud to a petrol station, then jump on a daladala (minibus) to get back to the car before it was stolen with Jacob's sister inside. They arrived back laughing and completely covered in mud - Ben sensibly wearing shorts and flipflops.

The next morning (18 April) Jacob took us to the bus station (thankfully as we'd never have negotiated it by ourselves - particularly as we were the only Mzungu (white people) seemingly in the entire city - it is very strange being so completely in the minority) for our bus at 8am. Finally at 9.45 our bus turns up, we argue with the other passengers as despite preallocated seats several people have the same seat number on their ticket and one women insists on sitting next to me in her seat number despite the fact that there is a perfectly good seat across the aisle with more leg room that would be fine for her and enable Ben and I to sit together. Ours is not to reason why. The journey is long and cramped interspersed with en masse pees by the road - women to the back of the bus, men to the front - but we finally feel like we're in Africa. Staring out of the window at the lush green vast countryside, watching women walking along the side of the road in their brightly coloured kangas carrying enormous buckets of water, fruit, and goodness knows what else on their heads, I feel like I'm in a dream as it is exactly how I always imagined Africa to be - and that doesn't happen very often. It is beautiful countryside and we can't get over how green it all is. We've arrived in the middle of the rainy season.

Just before 6pm we arrive in Arusha and are greeted at the bus station by the Mondo Country Manager Andrew and his wife Rachael - who works for Mondo part time as their Development Manager. They instantly put us at our ease - both completely normal and not those beardy-weirdy types you imagine volunteers to be - take us to our hotel which will be our home until the following Tuesday (24 April) as we won't be heading out to Longido - where we'll be based - until then. They then take us for a much needed beer and a fantastic curry. We eat, go back and collapse gratefully under our massive mosquito net and sleep beautifully ... until 4.45am.

30% of the population of Tanzania is Muslim, 30% is Christian and the remaining population have tribal beliefs. What does this mean for us? Well it means the mosque which is right next to our hotel starts it's call to prayer at around 5am every morning. This involves some completely tone deaf geezer hollering (he would call it chanting / singing) into a PA which then reverberates through every bone in our bodies and carries on for half an hour - ensuring no more sleep. The next few days are filled with an orientation by Andrew and Leonard the assistant country manager; the weekend to meet other volunteers including Jorid a Norwegian Student who is working in Longido too and an Ozzie girl who is working as an intern at the Rwanda War Crimes Tribunal which for one reason or another is being held in Arusha. We just generally get our bearings and heads around being in Arusha and catch up on emails and all the chores that hadn't been done for a while. We'd now been assigned our projects and were both completely daunted by what was ahead of us, as well as itching to get going but having to wait until Tuesday before we knew what our life for the next six weeks would be all about.

We are based in Longido which is small village an hour and half north of Arusha only 40k's from the Kenyan border, it is a Maasai village and is right on the Great North Road - the "main" road (it is tarmaced by it's narrow and full of potholes and not very busy) that runs from Egypt to South Africa. Ben is teaching in the village primary school and I am working with a local Community Based Organisation called LOOCIP conducting a feasibility study. The purpose of the study is to establish whether it is viable for Mondo Challenge, in conjunction with LOOCIP, to set up a small grants programme, whereby they provide funds for people infected with HIV/AIDS to set up business so that means they can provide a sustainable livelihood for their families. Basically a marketing and situational analysis which I've done heaps of before, but never on such an emotive subject. To get an understanding of what the grants programme is all about, the day before we left for Longido we were taken by Andrew and Leonard to a village called Ngaramtoni about 20 minutes outside Arusha to see how the programme is run there. It was an emotionally challenging day. It is the first time I've knowingly met anyone with HIV and whilst everyone thinks of themselves as accepting of these things I genuinely don't think anyone who is lucky enough to have our life knows how you're going to react until you're in the situation. Fortunately neither Ben or I ran screaming and the women we met were currently healthy and making a real success of the businesses that Mondo had helped them set up. Thanks to the money coming in they are able to eat properly (i.e fruit and veg and three meals a day) and they are able to get to Arusha to get their ARV's (drugs) both of which are vital to keep people living with HIV healthy and to stave off any other illnesses (such as TB and cholera - both of which are prevalent in that village at the moment), and they are able to care for their children. All of this life-changing and lengthening stuff thanks to a 25 english pound grant. I found the whole experience incredibly upsetting as it is only thanks to a lack of education and awareness that these women have HIV, but Tanzanians are proud people and pity is not something that is appreciated. However, it was also inspiring to see the way these women (about my age) were coping with the stigma that HIV still has here and rebuilding relationships with their community as more people come to understand what it is all about. The light relief of the day came from all the tiny children who followed us about town shouting "Mzungu! Mzungu!" and getting such glee from the high-fives they insisted on. Such mixed emotions and such a complete battering of the senses. I've never felt so far from home in my life.

Finally on Tuesday 24th April Leonard collected us from our hotel and we clambered into a shared taxi to drive out to Longido. On first impressions the village seemed nothing more than a handful of delapidated huts by the side of the road. We got out of the knackered taxi and Leonard took us to our homestay. We are staying with a Maasai family - one of the better off ones in the village - and were instantly made to feel welcome by gorgeous Mama Judith - a big bundle of laughter and welcome - and delighted to learn that both she and her husband Alais speak English! They have a proper single storey house (unlike most people in the village who live in huts (manyattas) made of dung and sticks and the odd bit of corrugated iron and sacking) although it lacks electricity and running water (neither of which are available in Longido at all) and a proper toilet - more to come on that. We dump our stuff then Leonard gives us the tour of the village, we go to the school, we visit LOOCIP and I don't know who is more intrigued, the Maasai by us or us by them.

The Maasai are probably one of the most famous of the African tribes (not least because of that ad on the BBC where they're all doing their incredible leaping) and they are friendly and fascinating. They are also the tribe that receives the most prejudice from other Africans as they stubbornly hold onto their traditions and so are seen as backward. So to give you an overview of the Maasai we exchange smiles and greetings with every day. They are generally (although not all) very tall and slim and without exception - at the moment - shaven headed. The men and women both wear shukas - which are layers of robes that are always either black, blue, red or purple and sometimes white and they wear shoes made of old car tyres (this is recent as they used always to go barefoot). Both men and women have distended ear lobes and through the massive holes they suspend a variety of jewellery. They look incredible. The women have intricately beaded earrings all the way up their ears, hundreds of necklaces and silver and copper coils around their ankles and wrists. There is this lovely rustle and tinkle of beads as they move. The men often wear similar jewellery and beaded belts and always carry a thin but very heavy stick (even when they are in the towns like Arusha). If they are of warrior age they also carry a club and a knife. There are so many aspects to their way of life that are so alien to us. The men traditionally can have as many wives as they can feed; when they get to a certain age that generation of boys are all circumcised during a ceremony and become warriors (moran) at which point, I think - but I'm a little confused about it - they grow their hair and braid it and it is not cut until approximately 7 years later when during another ceremony their heads are shaved and they move into the next phase of life. We've arrived a year or so after the last of these ceremonies so everyone currently has short hair. They also carry out female circumcision, the girls get pregnant very young and in a culture where you have numerous wives and people start having sex before they hit puberty HIV is really taking its toll. As a result many people are trying to change the Maasai - converting them to Christianity so that they only have one wife etc. I know very very little about it all but it is such a fascinating culture it seems terrible to try and change it out of hand. Yes things have to happen to prevent the spread of HIV - but why does that have to involve religious conversion and a complete renouncement of centuries old traditions?

At first I was completely horrified by some of the things I heard and it has become clear that Maasai women have very few rights and in many ways are oppressed. As I say, I know very little, but now I don't think it's really for me to come here with all my western values and try to project them onto a way of life that has been around for a lot longer than I have, but just to try and get to know some of the people and do what I'm here to do. It is just incredible to walk to work every day and be greeted warmly by so many people and be lucky enough to live like this for a while. I keep thinking that I'm probably going to get more from this experience than I'm able to give. I wish I was eloquent enough to describe the serene aura that surrounds the Maasai women in particular as they walk their slow, upright careful walk. Having said that when you get a group of women together there is endless chattering and giggling and constants "eyy"-s as they do what women do over the world - put the world to rights, laugh at men and gossip.

Whilst Mama Judith and Baba (meaning father) Alais seemingly have more trappings of the western world - Baba dresses in western clothes and whilst Judith is always dressed in brightly coloured kangas, she doesn't wear Maasai clothes or have the jewellery - unless for a special Maasai occasion. In fact the only things that gives them away are the circular scars on Alais's cheeks, his ingrained chauvinism (which has taken me a long while to get used to) and his obsession (as all Maasai men have) with his cows.

So the first few days in Longido passed by slowly as there were a series of public holidays. On the 26th we tried to climb Mount Longido. Our guide didn't fancy it so we just walked up to a very unimpressive water fall and got eaten alive by safari ants and ticks - it wasn't one of the better hikes we've done although I did manage to call my dad to wish him happy birthday . We couldn't really get into work; as we've come to learn is the case throughout Africa nothing ever happens when it's supposed to, people are never where they are supposed to be at the time you agreed and you just have to swallow your frustration and do it tomorrow ... or the next day. I was also bristling as everything was addressed to Ben. Even when I went to work I was asked why Ben wasn't with me - they can't get their heads around the fact that a man can teach while the woman "does business". Having said that I did please Mama Judith, by being "a good wife" and doing our washing in a bucket of cold water by hand. Several hours and 6 raw knuckles later I could understand why it takes so long to get anything done in Tanzania - you have to spend so much time just doing the chores. Although having said that, many families in Africa - if they have a little more money than others - will generally have a housegirl. Agnes works for Judith and Alais and is about 15 - supposedly at school but when she gets the time to go I've no idea.

Our days consist of breakfast - always a lottery, maybe pancakes, maybe nothing, maybe leftover rice from the night before, trotting off to our various roles, coming home again and then sitting just the two of us talking in the dark from 6.30 until 8pm when we have supper which is always mounds of rice or ugali (ground maize which is just edible) usually accompanied by either beans or spinach (ick ick ick). When we get chapatis that's a really good day. Grace is always said before we eat. I thought living here I would lose heaps of weight but a diet consisting of rice, rice and rice and Mama's bid to make sure I'm an "African woman" before we leave and not being able to go for a run - as it's just not done - means Mama will no doubt see her wish come true.

After supper we then sit around in the light of the kerosene lamps and chat to Mama, Baba and whatever other members of the family (or village) happen to be around that evening including Bibi (Alais's very old and frail mother - the 2nd of his dad's six wives - Bibi means Grandmother) who thinks we're absolutely hysterical and just laughs every time she sees us. One morning I was on my way to the shower when she called to me. We spent half and hour chatting incoherently to each other whilst she was fascinated by my shampoo and spent ages stroking my hair - Maasai women all have shaven heads (another evening Ben had to accompany her to her house 50 yards away and help her pick up a rock and put it in her doorway - we still have absolutely no idea why!) Mama Judith's sister Ruth is often around as well - she is just fabulous - doesn't speak any English but is always laughing and 'Karibu'-ing us. Then the eldest son Allan is quite often around. He spent 2 years studying in Seattle and is now a safari guide so is our touchstone to the outside world. Agnes is always there working very hard and making us feel terribly guilty although she is always laughing at Ben - so she gets her own back, and then there is the boy who looks after Alais's cows who's name I can not pronouce let alone write; and then the other day a friend was there who turned out to be a Maasai witchdoctor who apparently cures people with a bag of stones ...!

Invariably the evenings are filled with us being taught Kiswahili, which on one evening had all members of the family rolling around on the floor as Ben tried to sing "Kichwa, mabega, magoti na vidole" (head, shoulders, knees and toes!) On other occasions we've discussed the education system in Tanzania; the Maasai culture of arranged marriage vs love matches and giving a number of cows to the parents of the woman who will become your wife (Mama Judith was worth 4); numbers of wives (as a Christian, Alais only has Judith); George Bush and Gordon Brown; the "merits" of Robert Mugabe; as well as spending hours looking at their family photos. We are so lucky to be living with them and to think that I wanted to stay in a guest house instead - it would not be nearly the experience it is. Then we excuse ourselves, grab a lamp, check the room for bugs, put down the mosquito net, sometimes go outside and gawp and the most beautiful stars I've ever seen (even better than La Serena in Chile although we've forgotten all the names of the constellations already) including loads of shooting stars, read and fall asleep to the sound of singing coming from the lounge as the family pray and then sing. It's such a mixed up culture of traditional beliefs and worshipping God.

I have to say I found the first week really tough and for the first time in my life was desperately homesick. Life in Longido couldn't be more different from what we know back home and even from what we've seen in South America and I think the poverty level, the sad knowledge that at at my estimation at least 20% of the people I see every day have HIV and not to mention the appearance of the "Good Lord" in absolutely every element of life (which is just horrendously misguided and has moved me from a happy agnostic to a fierce atheist) just combined to bowl me over.

And that's saying nothing about those loos.

So, the main house we're staying in consists of a huge lounge (complete with yellow velvet covered sofas) and dining area and 4 bedrooms. Then across the dirt yard is another building which houses the kitchen (consisting of an open fire and soot covered walls, stools and pans), a couple of mysterious "stores", the shower (which is a tank on the roof filled up by Agnes from which you open the tap and the water descends on your head) and the pit toilet which is a cockroach-infested abomination that I have developed such a complete fear of that every visit to the loo is a major feat and I've got very good at crossing my legs. Ben has to do a cockroach clearing mission before every visit.

Our weeks are taken up with Ben teaching his 'difficult' class 7B - average age 14 yet this is still primary school - of whom there are 50 in his class - and that is a small class. He is assisting one of the teachers who almost never turns up so Ben is taking the class by himself. Ben often ruminates as to how Mr Julius controls the class when Ben is not there as Ben struggles totall and Mr Julius is blind. I think he is enjoying it but it's not quite the 'changing lives' experience he thought it would be. The kids are like kids all over the world - they don't want to be in school and the size of the class means there is such a huge gap between the kids who get it and the kids that don't. Some of the work he marks is an incomprensible mixture of English, Kiswahili and Maa, but he does love the fact that the kids always greet him on his way into school and insist on carrying his bag.

He's also teaching adults English in an open air school and at the 'Womens' Market" No this is not where you can buy and sell ladies, but a market where about 80 women are selling their homemade (and beautiful) Maasai jewellery. Ben is teaching them English so that they can talk to tourists - but considering most of them can't read or write and only speak Maa (and not Kiswahili - that and English being the official languages of Tanzania - although there are 120 tribal languages in total) he's having to be very inventive in his teaching methods which causes much hilarity and many gifts of jewellery - which he even wore for a short time! It is heartbreaking every time we go there as the only market for the womens' sales is tourists and so very few ever come to Longido that they very rarely have customers. We're going to buy something from each of them before we leave.

My weeks have been a bit more varied and I'm a bit luckier than Ben in that I've had to be immersed into day-to-day village life. There is a 22 year old girl called Esupat who works as my translator (despite the fact that I have to draw pictures of what I'm trying to get across as her English really isn't great) as my Kiswahili is rubbish. I'm also lucky enough to be working with some lovely members of the local community and two Canadian volunteers - Corey and Jotu (her name is Jo but there has been more than one Jo so she is Jo 2!) - from whom I'm learning so much about development work and HIV/AIDS.

Esu and I spent the first week going into all the businesses in Longido trying to find out what is sold so that we can identify any gaps in the market. It's stunning that a village can operate with 31 shops selling exactly the same things (rice, beans, washing powder, flip flops and kerosene) and 7 tailors get by despite the fact that the Maasai wear shuka and nothing remotely tailored!

Since then I've been concentrating on trying to establish the HIV situation in the village. This has involved visits to the very basic health centre to find out what services they provide, cloak and dagger conversations with a woman who supports 9 women who have HIV - all out of her own limited ocket. She was incredible, but it also made me realise that there is still such a huge misconception and stigma related to HIV/AIDS here. Things we take so much for granted at home just aren't understood at all and often the religious nuts further cause problems by trying to convert people and telling them God will save them from HIV - if they only believe a little harder. Grrrr. I've visited countless hospitals, been to remote villages (where there is no road and we've had a mini-safari spotting ostriches, vervets and gazelle all along the way) and had meetings with all sorts of people and it's impossible to get a clear answer.

Much of the HIV testing, counselling and treatment is done by NGO's as the government doesn't have the resources, but as such it seems quite piecemeal and not at all coherent. I probably don't know what I'm talking about, but it is clear that whilst the official stats are that 8% of the country's population is HIV positive that is far off the mark. 80% of people in Tanzania live in rural communities, many of them very remote for whom access to medical care is nigh impossible. There isn't the chance to have pre-emptive medical examinations - you only visit a health centre if you are very very sick so the idea of getting tested - even if there is a full understanding of what HIV/AIDS is all about - is slim to none.

By the time Friday comes around we're desperate for a bit light relief, for western food and some electricity so we make what Ben calls the 'Armitage Shanks Journey' to Arusha - proper loos, hooray! Arusha (where I am as I write) is a grotty grotty town that is the jumping off point for all the safaris in the Northern Circuit (i.e. the Serengeti, Ngorongoro Crater - all the most famous game places in the world) so it is full of tourists - well not at the moment as it is the low season - and as a result, touts. If it wasn't for proper loos and the fact that we often have to come back for Mondo Challenge volunteer meetings we would steer well clear as you get hassled incessantly - to the point one day I felt terrible as I screamed at this guy to leave us alone - he had been following us for half an hour trying to sell us stuff despite our repeated no's. I was feeling particularly overwhelmed that day but thanks to the worldwide maternal sixth sense, within half an hour my darling mother had called me to check I was ok and all was well in the world!

Our weekends in Arusha are fun, the other volunteers are a real mixed bunch from all over the world, but all good fun. We've had some great meals out; got plastered at a campsite bar on numerous occasions; visited the beautiful Arusha National Park which is on the slopes of Mount Meru and gone on a walking safari where we had very close encounters with a herd of buffalo, giraffes and the beautiful and tiny dik-dik (a type of antelope); cruised around trying to find parties on Jorid's 23rd (ahh!) birthday with 9 people in a small jeep; gone to watch Andrew play in a rugby match at the ex-pat haunt of choice (very strange after being in Longido all week but the most amazing setting with the Arumeru mountains behind the pitch); got stuck in the most ridiculous traffic jams at 2 o'clock in the morning and got into taxis that have no headlights and steam around the city as if chased by the mafia - there appear to be no traffic laws in Tanzania.

In summary, On Thursday I was sitting in a daladala (minibus) coming back to Arusha for some meetings with 24 Maasai crammed in the bus, a woman called Maria and her mother chatting away to me in Maa, her toddler son smiling inquisitively up at with me with the most beautiful almond shaped eyes in the most stunning face I have ever seen, donkeys blocking the road and nothing to look at except acacia trees, Mount Meru and plains that stretch all the way beyond the Serengeti to the Great Rift Valley, I had another of those supremely-happy-once-in-a-lifetime moments.

And then Ben got his hair cut and now looks like a cross between the guy who isn't Jim Carey in Dumb and Dumber and Zinedine Zidane - Tanzanian barbers are not used to using scissors!

We're back off to Longido this afternoon in one of the fabulous shared taxis (old peugeots that have two rows of seats in and cram in 8 passengers plus driver) to spend our penultimate week in Longido, go to church with Mama and Baba tomorrow - just to see what it's like - hopefully go with Baba to his Boma (small Maasai village - collection of manyattas that is surrounded by a fence made of thornbush (has 3 inch spikes) to keep predators from taking the cows and goats - last week one of the morani (warriors) came from the Boma to tell Alais that a leopard had taken two of his goats) and then next weekend is our first wedding anniversary (can you believe it!) and we're treating ourselves to three days in the Ngorongoro Crater where, hopefully, we'll finally see some lions.
]]> Booze, beaches and barracking — Manly, Australia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1176575400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1176575400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1176575400/tpod.html Sat, 28 Apr 2007 07:27:17 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Manly, Australia

Written by Ben.

Thursday 5 April: Christchurch to Perth to Sydney.
Combined time of almost 9 hours flying only enlivened by screaming kids on both flights (they actually do kick the back of chairs), mid-flight panic caused by rumours of thunder storms in Perth - and related 4-hour diversion - caused Captain to walk among passengers reassuring them (that's very nice, but we'd prefer it if you flew the plane), and general passenger costernation about UK-style tightened airport security (though Americans still allowed in). Midnight arrival to deserted hostel (next to Minger St) in Northbridge and, eventually, let in dark and dingy room. Delighted to be in Australia again (Charlie for second time, me for the third).

Good Friday 6 April: Perth.
We can confirm that Perth rigorously adheres to the 'no trading on bank holidays'. Nothing open, and only movement sited all morning was: usual homeless disenfranchised/excommunicated Aborgines (climate makes homelessness "attractive" apparently), swinging 'closed' sign on our car rental shop (that was meant to be open), and full-scale brawl outside tourist information (the dangers of finishing your night out in daylight). Day is saved, however, by a stroll around the lovely Kings Park (including the best cityscape viewing spot I have ever seen), and most perfect lunch place in Subiaco (Market); every variety of food available (even some non-organic, un-prententious stuff) around lovely shaded outdoor area. How Covent Garden, Spitalfields etc should be. The afternoon was then spent on Cottesloe beach, followed by sun-downers outside one of its restaurants. Conviently, we got the weekly (biblical scale) row out-of-the-way before tomorrow's wedding - Charlie rightly taking umbrage to me wearing sunglasses in the restaurant. After dark.

One lunch conversation was what we could do around Perth (wave rock, Monkey Mia, Pinnacles etc), during which Charlie expressed surprise about just how little me, my best man (and Jim and Jeeve) had done in our month here in '93. I'm not sure what she expected from a nightclub tour-of-the-world, and was glad she didn't ask about what we did in our month in Cairns by the Barrier Reef. (Anyway, its easy to criticise, we left Perth 6 days later with none of the major sights ticked off.)

Sat 7 April: Perth to Dunsborough, Margaret River (the wedding venue)
We collected rental car and then had 9.00-10.30am to garnish our wedding outfits with accessories. Charlie had to get some shoes (she found them in 20 mins): I needed a haircut, and had to get trousers......and a shirt.....and some shoes (I had already had socks and pants). Charlie then took great delight in seeing me paralysed by the time-pressure as the shops opened at 9am, then spend the first 20 mins lost in a department store. She took pity on me at 10, frogmarched me to a department store - we left at 10.29 everything bought. For first time in holiday we tried to place a budgeting strait-jacket on Charlie (and also me), but it is blown 36 hours in by my wedding-clothing expenditure (I was left with 13 dollars for the remaining 6 days). By bittersweet irony, Charlie actually came in under budget for the 6 days, it certainly is a topsy-turvy world down there. Charlie's hungover state meant I drove us the 4 hours to Margaret River. She is comfortable with me driving in light-motorway traffic given it does not call upon the two areas of my driving that she is uncomfortable with - my steering and braking. We get to our accomodation to find that the groom, Stu (Charlie's Uni friend who introduced us at Chester Races (thanks Stu)), has secured us an amazing Aussie sports star's mansion/Big Brother style house for us and the other three couples that have flown from overseas (couples from Wellington, Virginia and the Wirral). Stu's last night of freedom involves plenty of booze, but a sensible midnight finish (for him). The drinking is occasionally interrupted by talking, but more regularly by Kangaroo sightings/noises from the garden which is full of them apparently.

Sun 7 April: Stu and Suzie's wedding day
The tension/busyness was noticeably cranked up as everyone prepared themselves for the 4pm kick-off, other than for me - a miscounting (twice) of the number of namecards led to the chief bridesmaid (wisely, but coldly) removing me from any job or position of responsibilty. Charlie is asked 3 hours before the ceremony to do a seating plan for the wall. We find a pen, card and some tissue paper, and she works wonders in true British Blue Peter tradition. Come the ceremony, Stu spends the last 15 minutes of single life alone at the altar waiting for the blushing bride, and develops a strange Rain Man-like rubbing of the hands. At the same time, most of the women are contending with skirt-lifting strong winds; Charlotte ends up tying her amazing dress down with her shawl!. But salvatiion for all is at hand, as the bride, Suzie, arrives - looking fantastic - the winds die down and before long the happy couple taking the appalause from the crowd as Mr and Mrs Goodreid. The remainder of the day runs to form, with well recieved speeches, great food/wine ("Would sir and madam like another drink?", "Oh Sir and madam most certainly would"), and a variety of dancing styles. The first time in 5 years we have no wedding invites outstanding, but we've not checked emails. The vacuum lasted a full 2 weeks.

Mon 8 April: The day after
Charlie not speaking to me, "I told you to stop drinking wine", and everyone ever-so slightly offhandish of me in our house. The latter is only expanded by someone referring to me (during post-wedding drinks at the house) as being "quite agressive when you want to choose the music on the ipod, strange, when you can't subsquenlty use it." A pennyup game was chosen to select battle of the DJs, until I fell asleep mid-round on a stool (in a literal nod to Tony Bryant-Fenn). Apparently The Monday is a case of 'after the lord mayor's show', with no-one in any state to do anything but everyone feeling obliged (given they are in Australia) to do something outdoors. One-by-one each couple leaves for the beach via the town and then returns within an hour to collapse on the couch for the remainder of the day, enjoy the open fire and watch crap movies. By the evening everyone is still dying to see a kangaroo, so me and Stu decide to oblige. He hides in the garden, I then lead everyone out on a false claims of having heard one, and lead them towards him (in the pitch dark). His roo noises are that convincing that Sian (directed from her husband from 20 meters behind) declares "its very close, and it doesn't sound too happy" at which Charlie bolts back to the house. Just as the tension reaches a crescendo, Stu's (now) wife comes out and asks if anyone has seen him. For a split-second everyone thinks the roos have taken him, before the penny drops and he comes tearing out of the bushes. A quiet evening ends early for all, althought I have to wait until everyone is in bed, so that I could have my second steak of the night (the covert operation was necessary given everyone had been appalled at the size of my lasagane and steak dinner. And it was not clear that the steaks were intended for lunch the next day.)

Tues 9 April: Margaret River to Cottesloe beach, Perth.
After a goodbye breakfast with the happy couple we head back to Perth and Stu and Suzie's lovely beachside flat that they kindly leant us the keys for. Our only diversion on the way back is down memory lane to the fruit-picking town of Donnybrook which I had worked in 15 years earlier (and met Jim and Jeeve, compadres to this day). Any changes? Well, everything was exactly the same, just a bit darker and more gloomier, including the pub we frequented (immune to the gastropub winds) and the pool table on which Steve had lost to the drunkiest man ever seen (he - the drunk man - did the splits, and then collapsed on cueing up for his first shot). We spent the afternoon on Cottesloe beach on great-white watch (someone had been eaten there last year), while I read Jaws (for the fourth time), with Stu's entertaining friends Laurence and Sian (they took great amusement at my suggestion of cooking steaks in the oven, and the shape of my head).

Wed 8 April: Cottesloe beach, Perth.
Due to the lack of any proper locks on Stu's doors (very little crime in Australia, by delicious irony), Charlie wakes up to beer bottles placed against each door in the house due to my improvised alarm system - with hindsight I should have "switched' the system on after she had been to the bathroom. Another great morning on the lovely beach, my favourite in Oz (other than Pru's Manly beaches of course), followed by a visit to young and happening Fremantle. We shopped (Charlie bought a cool Byrds t-shirt ("Eric clapton's first band, Ben" (!)) and I had a hair-cut after Charlie noted I might take off given the length of my sideburns. The barbers was Australia's (and perhaps the worlds') oldest continous barbers shop, at 108 years; the style of my haircut mirrored the date of the establishment.

Thursday 9 April: Perth to Sydney.
With heavy hearts we leave Perth and fly to Sydney (combined stowed baggage of 43kgs depsite having sent 6 parcels home and wearing three layers) given we loved the relaxed feel of Western Australia, which is harder to find on the east coast and, certainly, in the UK. The weather which consists of rain only at night, and a breeze only in the summer added to the utopian feel. Our post-Perth blues are blown away by Pru meeting us at Sydney airport, which prompts floods of tears (even me and Pru have a lump in our throats), and whisking us off to drinks, canapés and pizza with Ross. (Ross promises to get me a 'turn down those f***ing collars' t-shirt (available in Oz) for me to wear in clapham.)

Friday 10 April: Manly.
Last night's red wine slows us but Pru gets us to Sydney via the jet cat, which is probably the best commute in the world (just above New York and Hong Kong water rides) at least until Kew gets a jet cat going to the City. She then helps us swiftly tick off all the jobs we have outstanding. We all feel relaxed by the end of the day, particularly as the girls have had a massage, and I've got my hands on the $10k needed for our 3 months in Africa. We finish off the day with sundowners in the Wharf Bar in Manly with Ross and Pru (combined they have been retitled Roo), their friends, and Nick (from ex-Aukett like Charlie, and who went skiing in Chamonix) and his girlfriend, Kerrin. The evening is finished off with me and Charlie, and Nick and Kerrin (average height of 6 foot 1 between us) in bar listening to live music, cricket on a big screen and a DJ all competing for our attention, while we indulge in the only sport us Brits/Kiwis are good at - Aussie baiting.

Sat 11 April: Manly.
My morning involves 6 back-to-back Simpsons, shared with 10-year old son of hostel owner (a real meeting of the minds), Charlie doing chores, before Pru and Ross generously took us to lunch at a fantastic restaurant, White Water (a home-from-home for all the Bryant-Fenns). Roo, on paying the bill, note "You can do the same for us when we have no income," I am (quietly) confident in their ability to hold down jobs continously. When ordering in the restaurant we get treated to an hour-long performance of the Bryant-Fenn girls forensically inspecting and discussing the menu. They then select the first thing they mentioned. More drinks follow in a succesion of really nice bars, Manly seemingly being a brutish-Aussie-male and chav-free zone (a few Brits aside). When conversation runs dry, Ross iniates a Q&A session which results in him being labelled as 'pathologically lazy', pru as 'likeable' (!!!?), Charlie as 'emotional', and me as 'underrated. The rules of the game means that the desciptions have to be understated. The night is ended just after midnight on account of me spilling drinks, Ross being his usual over-affectionate self (to me), and the girls losing the power of speech and, more importantly, tolerance of their other halves. Best put down of the day from Pru to Ross: "you silly little man."

Sun 12 April: Manly
Our last day is spent (gently) on various beaches (Palm Beach a.k.a. Summer Bay from Home and Away, Whale Beach etc) followed by a spectacular evening-long thunder storm. All-in-all it adds to the feelling that Manly (after London) must rank as one of the best places to work in the world (while young); "where did it all go wrong Pru and Ross." Charlie then cooks a thank-you meal for the two of them and we have the Pinot Noir we've brought from New Zealand. We get our last Aussie cultural dose by watching a (hidoeous according to Charlie) documentary Bum-fights before a short goodbye (Ross in a strait jacket to avoid tongues), as will see them in a few months, ahead of the flight tomorrow to Johannesburg.
]]> Saying goodbye to Mabel — Christchurch, New Zealand http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1176340080/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1176340080/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1176340080/tpod.html Sun, 22 Apr 2007 04:43:57 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Christchurch, New Zealand

So, with very sore heads and some ickiness having stayed in some very dodgy Wellington hostel's car park for the night, we headed off (23 March) to catch the ferry across the Cook Strait to Picton, our brief sojourn in New Zealand's north island at an end.

The crossing was stunning, it doesn't seem that much of the trip is spent in open water and the latter half is gliding through the silent beauty of the Marlborough Sounds. It really reminded me of the Navimag ferry sailing through the southern fiords of Chile - a similar landscape but a lot warmer and with beautiful turquoise waters. As usual I missed the dolphins that accompanied us for some of the way, but it was enough to just stand on deck and look around. We arrived in tiny Picton and headed straight off to Blenheim - a pretty grotty town but the centre of the Marlborough wine region and we had a fab time visiting a selection of large and boutique vineyards. It was very different to Martinborough as the region is vast and many of the wineries are huge businesses such as Cloudy Bay which we just had to visit and get us some of their lovely Sauvignon Blanc. Sadly it wasn't quite the experience we'd hoped as it has recently been bought by Louis Vuitton so is all corporate and they didn't have any bottles of Sav left as even they are subject to quotas - ridiculous! Nevertheless we still had a few tipples and left throroughly impressed by the whole NZ wine industry - because even though it's huge it manages to retain some personality to it and produces goddamn lovely vino. We headed back to Picton and decided that we'd go and check out the Marlborough Sounds from another angle and drive along the beautiful, if slightly hairy Queen Charlotte Drive - if only for the name! It's a very winding and steep route that takes you right along some of the fingers of land that create the sounds and is punctuated by a few houses here and there which have their typical post boxes on the road, but here they have their names on for good measure. Incidentally we'd seen hundreds of postboxes dotted around the north island on the roads often in rows of 10 or so - making NZ Posties's lives a whole heap easier, but the best was in one place seeing 4 all lined up by the side of the road with not a house in sight, but positioned right in front of a cemetery ...

Eventually we reached our camping spot for the night, the obscurely named Cowshed Bay - a DOC (Department of Conservation) campsite located on a bay which when we arrived the tide was right out and the sand was completely covered with clam shells. The DOC is the amazing government department which is responsible for maintaining and managing all of NZ's National Parks, within which there are hundreds of walking tracks and campsites. They vary in facilities and are usually quite basic, but compared to any basic campsites you'd find anywhere else in the world, they are incredible. The toilet facilities are always immaculately clean and have loo paper .. when does that ever happen, you may well ask? Staying in DOC campsites was getting close to Ben's desire to stay in the middle of a very scary forest with not a soul around and get scared out of our wits in the middle of the night due to strange noises. For me, there were other people around so I could cope with the idea of screaming very loudly and someone coming to rescue us if we did indeed get attacked by a giant man-eating possum, although there was still no way I was going to the loo in the middle of the night. This turned out to be a theme with many nights spent lying awake pretending I didn't need to pee and trying to block out strange noises outside. Not that you needed to know that, but hey.

So anyway, waking up the next day with the gorgeous light and muted colours of early morning across the bay was pretty special and we decided that although we couldn't do the whole 5 day tramp (as the Kiwis call hiking), we'd walk some of the Queen Charlotte Track (one of the more popular multi-day walks in NZ). It was a lovely few hours culminating in some stunning views. Then it was out and back on the road to lovely Nelson.

Ben and I decided that we'll do a house swap some day and live in Nelson for six months. Like most NZ towns it's not exactly pretty in terms of the architecture, but the setting and the atmosphere made it lovely and it has the most gorgeous beach. We didn't spend long there, just enough time to sort out our passes and stuff for the Abel Tasman coastal track which we were going to be walking the next 3 days and then to head up to stay in the beautifully remote and absolutely tiny Marahau for the night. We arrived and had yet another walk on another lovely beach with the tide miles and miles out and then had incredible seafood at the only restaurant in town. Seafood Chowder to die for. Then the next morning we were off walking again and very excited about it.

The Abel Tasman track is one of NZ's "Great Walks" and basically is a 60km walk along the northern coast of the south island in the Abel Tasman National Park. As with all the parks it's brilliantly set up for walking although this can have the downside of heaps of people doing it. Fortunately, as we were the wrong side of peak season and we decided to do the walk backwards (direction, not style of walking) we didn't run into that many people. As the track isn't a circle unless you want to retrace your steps when you reach the end, you have to get a water taxi to take you to the furthest end of the track or pick you up if you do it the other way. I thought this would just be a little boat that pootled up the coast, but no, it was a hugely powerful speed boat and it would have been fun enough just to zoom up and down in that all day. Loved it. In the end though, we were dropped off at Anapai Bay, a gorgeous stretch of the most beautiful golden sand close to the top of the track. Once the boat had left we had the entire bay to ourselves and just sat and looked at it for a long time, before shouldering our bulging packs and setting off north to Separation Point. It was a beautiful walk from beach through lush forest to the next charming cove and then again forest and another beach. By far the most beautiful of the whole walk (for me) was the dubiously named but picture perfect Mutton Cove. All of the pictures of the beaches just look like the most idyllic holiday beaches and it is wonderful that the only way you can enjoy this is to walk or kayak and there are no hideous hotels within miles and miles. Incredible. In fact we later learnt that a policy called The Queen's Chain in NZ means that no beach can be privately owned and the public can go onto any stretch of sand. Private property can start only 2 metres above the high tide line. Now that's how to keep your beaches beautiful.

Separation Point was a dramatic headland with fur seals lolling around on the rocks where we just sat and stared into the distance and then we headed back the way we came, stopping to do the annoying sand fly dance on the lovely beaches we came across. We were heading to stay the night at a campsite called Awaroa. What makes parts of the Abel Tasman even more exciting is that you can only cross certain areas at low tide as some of the wide estuaries don't have alternate paths and are a little deep to cross at other times. We'd already come across one such episode at Totaranui where we'd taken the wrong track and ended up having to cross the estuary when it was thigh high. This was fine for me in my shorts, but Ben had to strip down to his boxers to get across ... very amusing, particularly as the water was freezing. We finally got to Awaroa about 30 minutes before low tide and spent the time deliberating the merits of walking across anyway with the motley assortment of Europeans assembled at the crossing point. Finally we figured it would be OK to cross so we squelched our way for 20 minutes, encountering water that only came up to our ankles and arriving at the beautifully set Awaroa camp on the other side. It was getting very dark so tent was hastily erected and then 2 hours were spent trying to boil water for a delightful supper - pasta and sandfly surprise - and enjoying the huge darkness and magnificent stars.

The next morning we had to get up at six and route march to Onetahuti Bay where we were meeting up with a guide who would be taking us kayaking along the coast for the day. We'd decided that whilst we were itching to walk, a lot of the second day would be in forest and the whole point of Abel Tasman is the coast and beaches. It turned out to be a fantastic idea, paddling with a great guide (Bridget - whose only downfall was to tell us a hideous story about a man and his shenanigans in long drop toilets on the Milford Track that will haunt me forever) into beautiful secluded lagoons, around islands to see fur seals and the best bit of all, bottlenose dolphins cruising alongside and underneath the kayak, so close we could have reached out and touch them. Apparently they're only spotted once a month, if that, so we were really lucky. And even better we managed not to argue once about who was steering where and when. Kayaking is fantastic and I want to do it when we get back, although I'm not sure the Thames will be as much fun, although someone (Ross I think) did tell us the other day that at any one time there are 300 dolphins in the Thames .... ?

Mid afternoon we arrived at Anchorage where we said goodbye to our kayaking chums and lazed around in the sun all afternoon, got invaded by 50 teenage boys on a school trip and the requisite sand flies, sat on the lovely beach to look at the stars until that too got invaded by both of the above and then fell, knackered into our tiny, soggy little tent and whispered about all our neighbours - camping's great, you see so much of the oddities of human beings. The next morning we were up and off early, sorely tempted to run screaming through the campsite to wake all the teenage boys. We resisted and had a peaceful morning of solitude wandering through the forests and dropping down into yet more picture perfect coves and bays, including one where we sat on a sandbank watching the waves and discussing life back home, only to smugly look at our surroundings and laugh, and another which was full of super smooth driftwood and a piece of rock that had been shaped by the waves and now looks like the Venus de Milo. And then it was all done and I sat in a café whilst Ben went to fetch the van and then off we set in Mabel to our next adventure and to stay the night in another DOC campsite in the middle of the awesome Buller Gorge. (We didn't have time to go to Golden Bay and Farewell Spit, so that and walking for a few days more around Marlborough Sound are reasons 8 and 9 to return to NZ).

The next day was all about driving down the famous West Coast on our way to New Zealand's most celebrated glaciers. First stop was just on the side of the road which ran next to the sea and gave dramatic early morning mist views of the headlands and rocks. It was like an even more dramatic version of the Great Ocean Road in Australia (although I probably shouldn't say that). Then we visited the Pancake Rocks, which are strange rock formations that are layer upon layer of limestone that look exactly as their moniker suggests and have ace blowholes that dramatically throw the waves miles (well not quite) up into the air. Then we drove through Greymouth, went to a very odd little museum that didn't really seem to have a focus and left straight away as it's not the most stimulating of towns. Next was Hokitiki, the Greenstone (jade) capital of New Zealand, which similarly didn't have much to sell it to us aside from 400 shops selling jade and then it was more gorgeous coastal scenery and finally arriving in the Franz Joseph township - the town that exists purely for tourism relating to the Franz Joseph Glacier just down the road.

We had booked ourselves on a helihike trip on the Franz Joseph Glacier. Having walked on glaciers in Argentina we were really excited about the prospect of doing so again but much higher up the glacier, getting an aerial view of these majestic frozen rivers and the chance of finally seeing some ice caves. Sadly it wasn't to be. Despite the fact that we hadn't seen a drop of the much advertised rain in the south island, and the weather had, in fact, been glorious, obviously on the one day we really needed it to be good it was pouring down with rain. Our trip to the heli offices confirmed that we wouldn't be going up that morning, so we optimistically postponed our flight until later that day and then headed 30k's south to go and have a squizz at the Fox Glacier. Firstly, can somebody confirm that this is what those clear minty sweets are named after? and secondly, it was so fantastic to see glaciers again. They really are truly incredible geological phenomena - their power and the fact that they move so much is just fascinating. Fox and Franz until quite recently were advancing - which is unusual given global warming - and apparently they move so quickly that when a light aeroplane crashed at the top of the nearby Tasman Glacier and they didn't find one of the passengers, it only took 12 years for him to pop out at the terminal face (bottom)!

Anyway, we had a great morning loving the Fox Glacier, visiting the gorgeous black and hence mirror-like Lake Matheson, trying to figure out whether we could see Mount Cook / Aoraki or not and hunting around Franz Joseph town to see if we could find the posters used to advertise a particular guiding company that strangely use a photograph of my sister's boyfriend Ross and buddies on their marketing literature. We did find one sad poster hidden away and established that Ross's boy-band-esque pout had seen him relegated for newer models... ahhh. Unfortnately our afternoon helihike was also cancelled due to the cloud, which was a real shame and reason number 10 for coming back as ever since I saw footage of the South Patagonian icecap and how it looks from above, I've wanted to fly over a glacier. So after a visit to the fabulous Franz Joseph Glacier, which you can't get as close to but we decided was better because you could see more of the ice than Fox, we headed south and inland and stayed at a DOC campsite in Mount Aspiring National Park, close to the stunning Haast Pass. As an aside, Ben has told me off for my overuse of the word 'stunning' but you try and come up with enough adjectives to describe the absolutely breathtakingly dramatic scenery that is around every corner, by every road, literally everywhere in the south (and lots in the north too) of New Zealand. It really is that beautiful.

Now this was the campsite where Ben really got his heebie-jeebie fix. Surrounded by trees and off the main road and nobody else there, we are just settling in for the night when Ben decides to go for a walk and in doing so encounters a strange man from Sheffield who is driving around in his Ute and has a massive shotgun in the back because he is about to go 'hunting'. Ben was scared into having a cup of tea with him and then neither of us slept a wink for repeatedly checking the doors were locked in case Mr Sheffield hadn't been able to find any deer to shoot and had thought of a more interesting alternative or that his tea had been spiked with something. Imaginations working overtime? You bet. The next morning (30 March) however, we realised big bad scary man, was not that at all, as he crawled looking very woe begone out of his saturated tent. We muttered sheepishly to him and each other and then jumped in the van and headed as fast as we could for Queenstown, stopping at Wanaka to have breakfast next to the beautiful lake.

Queenstown is lovely. I can understand why my friend Sarah spent so long living there. It is a lovely town, with loads of great bars and places to eat and surrounded by the most beautiful mountains and lake. It's a ski town, but doesn't have that cliquey feeling you get in the European Alps and is just as lively in the summer as the winter, or so I'm lead to believe. I was just gutted that Sarah wasn't still there to show us around. As you probably all know, Queenstown is the adrenaline capital of NZ, if not the world and the original home of the Bungy jump. Now, no matter how much we were going to get into the spirit of things, there was no way either of us was going to bungy ... just don't get it at all. However, we had both agreed before arriving that there was one hig adrenalin and high altitude thing that we would do ... and we did. Within half an hour of arriving in Queenstown I was running down a steep slope with a parachute and a guy called Clark strapped to my back and leaping into a void. Yep, Charlie-scaredy-cat and Ben not scaredy cat at all went paragliding and it was absolutely completely and utterly incredible. OK I'm not saying that I wasn't terrified and if we had thought about it some more I probably wouldn't have done it. And I clung on for dear life the entire 20 minutes and turned the air completely blue with screaming rude words, but the views and the buzz were just stunning and we have the pictures and an amusing video of me running in mid air to prove it. Afterwards we couldn't stop giggling and you can see why people get addicted to this adrenaline stuff. So whilst we weren't about to go and pay homage to Mr Hackett we set off for our next fix.

Shotover Jet.

A jet boat which seems to defy all laws of something in travelling at ridiculously high speeds so close to rocks that Ben sitting on the outside kept ducking as he thought his head was going to get mashed into the rocks. It was ace, particularly when you do 360 degree turns at full speed and just fly around in the boat. After all that excitement we needed beers. The 31st, therefore, started off a little jaded and after a bit of shopping we set off gingerly for Te Anau and the next big must-see; Milford Sound. Once again we hadn't enough time to do anything else in Queenstown or do any of the walking and lake related activities there are to do there, so that is number 11 for next time.

Te Anau is the last big town before the 110k drive along the Milford Road to Milford Sound and having dropped in, had a chat to the DOC officers about hiking in the area, we figured that there were probably much nicer places to stay along the Milford Road than that fairly inbred town (apologies to anyone that that may offend!) So we drive on to a DOC campsite called Deer Flat and spend another night in the scary middle of nowhere but by a gorgeous river and surrounded by trees with no-one else around.

The next morning we drove along the rest of the Milford Road, which has to be one of the most beautiful drives in the world. When they were in New Zealand my parents did a flight over the sounds, and beforehand I wasn't really sure why as I assumed a boat on the sound is surely the way to see it. As we drove along though, I realised that you can only see a fraction of the scenery on land, as we are so small and it is so vast and spectacular. (Next time No12). We however had a fabulous time, stopping and gaping at the ancient glacial valleys and mountains and the current glaciers glistening on top of the black peaks and we also stopped and walked part of the Routeburn Track to Key Summit to look down on the valleys around. Whilst we walked we were completely surrounded by cloud, but as we reached the top, the clouds moved and we had the most spectacular views. When we were in South America we had tried to book space on either the Milford Track or the Routeburn Track, two multiday walks that take you in to the heart of the mountains surrounding the fiords. Unfortunately we were too late as the tracks are so popular you have to book at least 6 months in advance. The Milford Track in particular is supposed to be one of the most beautiful hikes in the world and would be the other way to get a glimpse of this watery wilderness other than flying. (NT No 13) But we had a great time at Key Summit - had a proper conversation for the first time since arriving in NZ - i.e not one that involved cooking or driving or itinerary and got a glimpse of the majesty of this part of the world. And then it was onwards past The Chasm (ace waterwork affair) and through the spooky Homer Tunnel and arriving at the strange little place that is Milford.

We were doing an overnight cruise on a rather tired boat called the Milford Wanderer. It was kind of like brownie or cub camp on sea. Bunks in cabins down very steep stairs with curtains rather than doors and a crew of slightly disturbed characters who all seemed very nice, but you weren't entirely sure they hadn't gone slightly mad from being cooped up on the boat for days on end. We got on the boat and were instantly presented with views of Mitre Peak, the mountain you always see in postcards of Milford Sound and then we chugged out in to the Fiord. It really is quite spectacular. I've heard so much about it and seen so many pictures, but the peace and quiet, clear but very dark waters and lofty peaks with waterfalls, hanging valleys and snow only come alive when you're sitting in a kayak in the middle of it, watching the sun set. A really very special experience.

On getting back to the boat after kayaking in the dusk light Ben decided he'd relive his cooling off methods of the Galapagos, by jumping off the boat into the water. He somehow had got into his head that the water was warm, but as he jumped in and pretty much jumped straight back out again, he realised that the 250m deep fiord, plus glaciers melting near by, plus the Tasman Sea does not equal a bath-like swim. He was rewarded for his efforts later on though when our captain called him "Interpid Ben" over the tannoy. He was very proud.

It got dark very quickly and as it had gotten pretty cloudy there weren't many stars to view so we settled in for a night of scrabble and a very noisy game of spoons with a couple of nutty 40-something women from Wellington and Minnesota which resulted in an exceptionally grumpy fellow passenger telling us off like the aforementioned cubs and brownies - at 9.30pm. It wouldn't have been so galling if a) it had been later, b) he had actually spent any time at all on deck looking at the views during the afternoon - or indeed the following day and c) we weren't all on holiday. That kind of put the kybosh on our fun so we toddled off to bed and got up at the crack of dawn (2 April) to enjoy the early morning as one of only two boats on the Sound that morning - or more accurately the Fiord as it was created by glaciers and not rivers which is the difference between the two.

Sadly the next morning was quite cloudy so we didn't get another view of Mitre Peak, but we did head out in to the Tasman Sea with much dipping and rolling and then sail around the Sound, nudging up close to waterfalls and fur seals and generally loving every single view. I was running around and around the deck trying to look at everything from every single angle possible. Just lovely.

Now we had a bit of a dilemma. We had three days before we had to return Mabel and we were 10 hours drive from Christchurch, so that left two days and just not enough time for our desired hike along the Kepler Track, or to visit Doubtful Sound, so we ummed and ahhed and eventually decided to drive back via Manapouri, grotty Invercargill, the beautiful rolling hills and views of Stewart Islands in the Catlins and stop in Dunedin for the night. It was a long drive, but the views as always were incredible and Dunedin was a lot nicer than we had imagined. We went out for dinner and had the divine and much lauded Bluff Oysters. We had decided not to go to Bluff - despite the fact we would then have travelled from one extreme of New Zealand to the other. We were only 30 k's away but it just didn't appeal for some reason. The oysters were, however, amazing.

So a night spent in Dunedin and then we travelled on up the coast (3 April) to Christchurch stopping for a morning stroll all by ourselves on the beautiful Katiki beach and then on to view the mad spherical Moeraki boulders dotted along a beach a bit further up the coast. We decided not to head to Christchurch straight away and instead drove down the Banks Peninsula to the gorgeous little Francophile town of Akaroa. I think this part of NZ was settled by the French and they cling onto that heritage fiercely. There's lots of french sounding restaurants but aside from that it's a pretty little weatherboard town in a lovely harbour location. We stayed the night and had a drink in your standard cavernous Kiwi hotel / bar and then climbed back up to the van to spend our last night balancing on our rickety bed. Apparently you can do boat trips from here out to see the world's rarest dolphin - the Hector dolphin and a plethora of penguins and other marine life - kind of like a mini Kaikoura which is further on up the coast, but the next day (4 April) we had to head to Christchurch to drop off Mabel, so it was with heavy hearts we got back on the road one last time.

Christchurch is billed to be the most English of NZ's cities and, with the punting on the River Avon one of the top attractions, you can see why. The river is the heart of the city and it's really pretty walking along the banks. We spent the day separately mourning the return of Mabel and me trying to find shoes for Stu's wedding - to no avail whatsoever and then having spent 2 hours sorting out all the rubbish accumulated from 4 weeks in a van and realising we had about 14 bags when originally we had 4 - we gave up and went and had fabulous sushi and sashimi in Christchurch's restaurant strip.

Then our Kiwi sojourn was at an end and the last morning was spent sending back about 10 of the 14 bags of rubbish to the UK and wandering some more around Christchurch to soak up as much Kiwi spirit as we could before heading off to Oz. Things to return for numbers 14 - 17; drive along Arthur's Pass, swim with dolphins at Kaikoura, get up close to Mount Cook /Aoraki, kayak at Doubtful Sound and when we're really good at navigating, walk the Dusky Track - that said we'd managed to cram an awful lot into our 4 weeks and got a real feel for the landscape and way of life and a taster of all the wonderful hiking there is to do. New Zealand, probably even more so than Australia is all about the great outdoors (rather than the sea), regardless of the weather. (I think the climate is probably better than the UK's despite the fact that rainfall is measured in metres rather than millimetres in parts of the south island.) as it has something for everybody and it is all made so accessible and is so organised. Above all that, the people are just great - honest, generous, down to earth and fun - and examples of all the most wonderful geological phenomena in the world are crammed into such a small space that every where you look there is something either just plain beautiful or jaw-droppingly, tear-wellingly spectacular to enjoy.

If you haven't been go, and try to take at least 6 weeks to enjoy it.

Next stop Perth.
]]> Spoons, Intrepid Ben and fairies in the waterfalls — Milford Sound (Fiord), New Zealand http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1175479200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1175479200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/charliew/wensleysworld/1175479200/tpod.html Sat, 21 Apr 2007 09:45:52 -0400 Upside down for a year - Ben and Charlie's southern hemisphere adventure.
Milford Sound (Fiord), New Zealand

cards with nutty ladies
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