TravelStream™ news feed for member paulandmel on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/paulandmel en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Tue, 17 Mar 2009 17:29:48 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/morocco_2006/1163779860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/morocco_2006/1163779860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/morocco_2006/1163779860/tpod.html Tue, 17 Mar 2009 17:29:48 -0400 Morocco - the land that Time forgot even though we asked Time to mark it down on his Blackberry.

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Marrakech, Morocco

Marrakech is the most cosmopolitan and developed city in Morocco. It is populated by the Moroccan elite, French retirees and celebrities. Marrakech has all of the usual suspects: a massive medina, a sprawling ville nouvelle and a luxurious palmerie filled not with farms, but with pricey homes. At the centre of Marrakech is the Djemaa el-Fna (literally translated as "Place of Death"), a giant square on the outskirts of the medina. In ancient times it was the place for executions. Now it is the staging area for a nightly circus/food extravaganza. As dusk approached we watched from one of the roof top cafés that line the square as the numerous vendors and performers begin to congregate and set up with efficient precision all of the stalls and apparatus required to put on the nightly explosion. At its frenzied peak the Djemaa el-Fna is like being hit by a surging, frothing wave of sights, sounds and smells-snake charmers, acrobats, fortune tellers, healers, magicians, peddlers and water vendors jostle for attention while countless food vendors sell everything from boiled sheep head to giant vats of escargot to feed the hungry masses that congregate around the steaming stalls lined up row upon row. We waded in. Our prize for the night was the boiled sheep head--a traditional delicacy. The head is cooked in a rich stew of meaty goodness. All of the tourists hovered around the food stalls gawking at all of the strange offerings. We joined the throng, strategically studying each of the sheep head booths, looking for the gem in the rough. We worked in a circle from the outside in. Food stall #76 served its head from a massive steaming pot. The locals clamoured for seats at the trough. Once seated they ate with determined efficiency. The table was a blur of hands deftly picking up the succulent morsels which were washed down with bread used to sop up the head juice. We had found our gem.We studied the simple menu: Grande Tête - 60 Dirham, Petite Tête - 50 Dirham, 1/4 Tête - 15 Dirham. Our rusty French came in handy--tête = head. We grabbed a spot on the steel bench and motioned for two orders of tête. The potbellied cook easily picked us out as foreigners, gave Mel a quick glance and asked incredulously with a dismissive wave, "Mangez?"  He met our enthusiastic nods with his own nod of quiet respect.  The bread was handed out generously and we delighted in the tender and flavourful goodness--a true delicacy. The rest of our time in Marrakech was spent shopping in the medina--bartering and hunting for bargains and gifts to bring home. We loved the time we had to spend in Morocco--the people, the culture, the food-all things we came to appreciate and enjoy.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/worldtrip/1234107180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/worldtrip/1234107180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/worldtrip/1234107180/tpod.html Sun, 08 Feb 2009 14:00:00 -0500 Around the world in 8 months - too short to see it all, but long enough to get diarrhea.

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Vancouver, Canada

We are writing this 3 years after flying home from Peru.  Life seems to get in the way of writing and so this "there and back again" note has waited patiently in line with little plastic number in hand until now.  Travelling, once chewed on, sticks to your soul like well-worn gum on another type of sole and so in the last little while since the world trip we have also been to Morocco, North Korea, Tanzania, Rwanda and Uganda.  We are now on the cusp of the next big wet and wild adventure (emphasis on the wet until the absorbent underwear stage passes).  Our first baby is due in the coming few days.   We left on the trip with the thought that unless it killed us, or even worse just one of us, we would never regret seeing the world.  The "there" changed us, and now the "back again" is lived and experienced through a different palette.  We write this as a record for our forgetful selves, to remind us of the thoughts we thought when for a year we stepped off the ride of life and breathed:   1) Big thoughts first.  They are the heaviest.  God is Grace.  He has created a world of amazing beauty and diversity--you really should take a gander.  His sons and daughters populate this world and we are all more akin then different.  Our struggles are the same (though most are harder than the ones we face here in Canada) and our hopes and desires are indistinguishable.  Pause; reach out past your own cries of "me first and last"; see your siblings as God sees them and you are one big step closer to the "you" your Maker first fashioned.   2) It's the people stupid.  Many months on the road; one strange world; one wife/husband--treasure and care for each other, the rest is junk food.   3) The stuff of life is really the sh*t of life.  The talking box drones on about the things that we would be idiotic not to get, the things that would usher in the happiness we think we seek.  Living in a tiny four person compartment for four days on a train speeding through Siberia with no showers and two long stops a day to stretch your legs outside, it's amazing how the simplest things will make you happy when your life is pared down.  Pure happiness to us was a good companion, breathing fresh air and being able to find some fruit and a big bottle of "no gas" water on one of the few stops.  When you have to carry all your stuff on your back, you would rather leave most of it behind.   4) Your job is the best.  Compared to how 90% of the world fights for survival, whatever you are doing right now--not so bad.   5) CNN makes the world seem like a scary place.  Stepping off a plane/train/donkey onto solid ground shows you it's pretty welcoming.   6) Protein comes in all shapes and sizes--don't judge.  One man's pet is another's Christmas feast.  For posterity's sake here is a listing of the assorted pets, critters and other delicacies we feasted on:    -         reindeer -         bear -         horse -         dried horse milk -         fermented mare's milk -         hairy crab -         dog -         various insects (worm, grub, mealworm, flying insect) -         fresh buffalo milk -         water snake -         pigeon as dessert -         song bird -         wild poisonous mushrooms -         crocodile -         emu -         kangaroo -         alpaca -         guinea pig -         sheep head   There were a few other delicacies that we tried to eat, but were unsuccessful for some very good reasons.  Marmot in Mongolia--no go because it is the last known carrier of the Bubonic Plague.  Dolphin in Peru--no go because it is endangered and PETA would crucify us.   Onwards and upwards.  No more travelling for a bit to places where small, relatively helpless little people like us would feel unwelcome.  Thanks to anyone out there who has come along and actually read this collection of recollections and random mental diaherra.  We got "there" on a wondrous assortment of moving machines (some mechanical and some organic).  In case our daughter(s)/son(s) won't believe us, we sign off with this complete list since 2005:   -         42 countries -         55 flights (39 planes) -         train (thousands of kilometres worth) -         bus -         car -         taxi -         minivan -         boat -         metro -         off road jeep (Jordan, Rwanda, Uganda) -         tuk tuk (Agra, India) -         ferry (Spain, Finland) -         tiki boat (Uros Island, Peru) -         row boat (Waitomo, New Zealand) -         gondola -         safari jeep (India, Tanzania) -         tram -         bicycle (Princes Island, Turkey) -         funicular -         rickshaw (Puno, Peru) -         camel (Wadi Rum in Jordan, Mandawa in India, Sahara Desert in Morocco) -         camel cart (Karauli, India) -         donkey (Petra, Jordan and Valley of the Kings, Egypt) -         flying fox -         boom net (Bay of Islands, New Zealand) -         zorb ball (Rotorua, New Zealand)Keep on truckin'.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/worldtrip/1128870780/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/worldtrip/1128870780/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/worldtrip/1128870780/tpod.html Fri, 23 Jan 2009 15:28:37 -0500 Around the world in 8 months - too short to see it all, but long enough to get diarrhea.

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Irkutsk, Siberia, Russia

The Trans-Siberian Railway has four routes. Ours was the Trans-Mongolian which runs from Moscow through Siberia, Outer Mongolia and ends in Beijing, a total distance of almost 8,000 km. The first leg was a four day journey from Moscow to Irkutsk, the capital of Siberia. We were a little anxious about how we would spend four days stuck on a train with no showers and only occasional 15 minute stops.We were pleasantly surprised to find out the Russian trains were quite clean and comfortable. Each carriage was divided into numerous cabins with four bunks each and a small foldable table by the window. The bottom bunks acted as benches during the day. There were two toilets at each end of the carriage and a samovar which gave a constant supply of hot water for tea and instant foods. Each carriage had two provodnistas who kept everything orderly (i.e. train assistants who rule their carriages with omnipotence). We made sure to give Natalya and Sacha a tip in the beginning of the journey to ensure a smooth trip.When you're on a train travelling through nowhere, life slows down. Your day revolves around simple meals of sandwiches and instant noodles prepared as if you had all the time in the world. We were delighted by the smallest things. There were two major stops a day at dilapidated train stations with simple stalls set up by locals selling chocolate, crusty bread, cheese and sausage One of the stops surprised us with fresh fruit--we triumphantly returned to our cabin happily clutching our treasures. Fresh air was a delightful bonus of our shopping excursions. Another simple delight was adding steaming instant mashed potatoes to our cold cheese and sausage sandwiches--brilliant!At one particularly long border crossing, we devised an impromptu game of bowling with empty water bottles and a tennis ball procured at a Siberian flea market. The carriage's corridor served as the perfect bowling lane. We lasted three days with no showers, sleeping, waking and eating in the same clothes. Our only means of bodily hygiene were baby wipes and deodorant. We were going to go for the full four days but we caved and paid Natalya 50 roubles each to use her hose which attached to the faucet to create a primitive shower in the small washroom. We had fun preparing for bed in the tiny closet-sized washroom. After a couple nights, we had it down to an art form. Paul, with his cargo pants, acted as the bathroom caddy dispensing products on the rocking train with aplomb.Living such a simple life really highlighted for us how bloated our distraction and convenience-laden lives at home can be. By the end of our epic rail journey, we were so used to living on the train that we had difficulty telling which direction the train was moving. We had become one with the rails.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204230060/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204230060/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204230060/tpod.html Tue, 14 Oct 2008 03:25:24 -0400 Africa, imperialism's playground: fun for all except the locals.

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Kigali, Rwanda

Paul our guide took us for our final drive through Uganda back into Rwanda and to Kigali for our flight to Nairobi and then to London.  It would be a long day of travelling.  We would start in a small village on the Ugandan side of the Virungas and end up in metropolitan London.  A truck, two planes, and the Tube would take us from hinterland to modern cityscape.  We sat back and enjoyed our last scenic drive through the hills of Rwanda.   In Kigali, we made one last stop at the Hotel des Mille Collines--a refuge for hundreds during the genocide and made famous by the movie Hotel Rwanda.  A short flight took us back to Nairobi.  We had a long stop over at Nairobi International.   The interesting thing was that during our stay at the airport, the peace accords were being signed by the two warring sides in the recent Kenyan presidential elections whose disputed results had led to paralyzing violence throughout the country.  Everybody stayed glued around the TVs watching the coverage of the signings--hopefully peace will prevail.   Our long wait eventually came to an end and we boarded our flight to London.  Africa was unique.  It is a continent of unfathomable beauty crippled with hurts and damage that at times seems beyond healing.  We will be back.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204150440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204150440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204150440/tpod.html Tue, 14 Oct 2008 03:15:20 -0400 Africa, imperialism's playground: fun for all except the locals.

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Mgahinga Gorilla National Park, Uganda

The next morning we awoke for our last hike in Africa. &nbsp; Off to see the golden monkeys. &nbsp; To be honest we were a bit apprehensive about this hike. &nbsp; We had done so much on this trip and had emerged unscathed (mostly) from all our adventures. &nbsp; This was our last trek and we just wanted to make it back in one piece--no twisted ankles or broken limbs. &nbsp; Seeing the golden monkeys would be only a side bonus--unless of course they handed out gold, or were made of gold, or pooped out gold. &nbsp; We awoke early and headed off with our guide and the required dudes with guns. &nbsp; The skies looked threatening and we hoped we would beat the coming rains. &nbsp; The climb was quite pleasant. &nbsp; We hiked through open fields until we reached a bamboo forest. The golden monkeys spent most of their time in this perfect location for a kung-fu movie. &nbsp; Once again we had trackers who were looking for the blinged-out furry guys. &nbsp; This time instead of just following the trackers from a distance our guides had us wait in one spot until they got confirmation that the gold had been located. &nbsp; We waited. &nbsp; To kill time we chatted with our guides and played an impromptu game of using our walking sticks to try and spear various objects. &nbsp; We waited some more. &nbsp; Eventually, our time was up. &nbsp; No golden treat. &nbsp; We were a bit disappointed, but were just happy to be heading back--hopefully in time to miss the fast approaching rains. &nbsp; We <i>almost made it.&nbsp; Minutes from the base we got caught in the downpour. &nbsp; The rain during this time of the year is torrential. &nbsp; We got soaked. &nbsp; We walked in misery for the last bit. &nbsp; As we were leaving the base hut our thoughts turned to the warm lodge and the end of our hiking adventures in Africa. &nbsp; Perfect safety record--up and down the highest freestanding mountain in the world, two volcanoes, and a couple of hills--tired but all in one piece. &nbsp; <i>WHACK! &nbsp; In our hurry to get out of the rain we had our heads down and Mel walked head first into an overhanging tree limb in the parking lot of the base hut. &nbsp; The limb had been carefully marked and we had even noted it on the way in as something to avoid. &nbsp; Mel's precious noggin made direct crunching impact with the hard limb. &nbsp; The sound was loud and sickening. The irony of it all made us laugh after we made sure Mel was not grievously injured. &nbsp; After all that--crippled in the parking lot. &nbsp; We gratefully climbed into our waiting ride and counted our blessings as we made our way back to the lodge. &nbsp; We happily settled in for our last night in Africa. &nbsp; We savoured the bush shower, warmed ourselves with the fire in the lodge, and feasted on a great final meal. &nbsp; We went to sleep with anticipation of heading home.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204059240/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204059240/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1204059240/tpod.html Tue, 14 Oct 2008 02:56:46 -0400 Africa, imperialism's playground: fun for all except the locals.

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Mgahinga Gorilla National Park, Uganda

The serene surroundings of the lodge were too much of a temptation for us to venture out again today.&nbsp; We were given the option to trek to see the golden monkeys or to see Dian Fossey's grave.&nbsp; Unless the porters were to carry us today in litters we weren't strapping on our well worn hiking boots again.&nbsp; We had a lazy morning.&nbsp; We slept in late and had a private breakfast for two overlooking the twin lakes.&nbsp; We wrote, read, reflected and enjoyed the moment--atop a mountain, high in the clouds, in the land of a thousand hills. &nbsp; Paul our guide came to pick us up for our drive to Uganda--just across the border from Rwanda.&nbsp; It was market day in Musanze, the small town down the road from the Rwanda lodge so we made a stop there first.&nbsp; This was the day the villagers would gather in the town's city centre and set up their stalls and make-shift booths to sell and trade their produce.&nbsp; There were also some more permanent markets where vendors would sell used clothing and other soft goods.&nbsp; Apparently, there is a huge market in Rwanda for used clothing from the west (could this be where all our donated clothing ends up?).&nbsp; Paul took us to one of these markets and we wandered the countless aisles of used Nike runners and other name brand athletic gear.&nbsp; We even saw a money changer who was wearing a UBC Thunderbirds (our alma mater) football jersey!&nbsp; He was hesitant when we asked for a picture but eventually he tracked us down and allowed us to snap a pic.&nbsp; What a strange reminder of home in the middle of Rwanda.&nbsp; In order to reconnect with the world we stopped by a small dingy Internet café to make sure the rest of the world hadn't collapsed while we were gone. &nbsp; We arrived at the border between Rwanda and Uganda.&nbsp; The border post on the Rwandan side consisted of one solitary building with one lonely bureaucrat who processed all travellers and enforced the filling out of the omnipresent official government form.&nbsp; We got past that hurdle quickly enough.&nbsp; Paul our guide seemed to know everybody and was on good terms with all of them.&nbsp; With our important form filled out we proceeded to the border where the guard manually lifted the rusting bar that barred the way to freedom!-okay, just to Uganda. &nbsp; The border post on the Ugandan side was markedly rundown and forlorn.&nbsp; Maybe as a form of one-upmanship, we had two rundown buildings to attend to with two official government forms to fill out.&nbsp; One of the buildings was completely empty--apparently the bureaucrat was off to "lunch".&nbsp; Paul told us this was typical for Uganda.&nbsp; We were in no rush so we passed the time by visiting the nearby row of "stores" selling "goods". &nbsp; After the border the roads got very bumpy.&nbsp; Uganda doesn't pave their roads.&nbsp; Good thing Paul took Gravol for the trip.&nbsp; A few bone rattling kilometres later we arrived at the Volcanoes' Mount Gahinga Lodge.&nbsp; The surroundings weren't quite as atmospheric as our lodge in Rwanda, but still stunningly beautiful.&nbsp; We were now on the other side of the volcanoes.&nbsp; All of the Volcanoes' lodges are eco-friendly, so we were well prepared for bush showering and relieving ourselves in holes.&nbsp;&nbsp;We settled in for the night, enjoyed a wonderful dinner and&nbsp;retired to our hut.&nbsp; Our sleep was&nbsp;deep except for the intermittent shouts and commotion we heard during the night that came from the villagers trying to scare buffaloes away from their crops.&nbsp;&nbsp;The buffaloes are protected and dangerous, so the villagers take nightly watches to ward them off.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203991080/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203991080/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203991080/tpod.html Tue, 14 Oct 2008 02:33:43 -0400 Africa, imperialism's playground: fun for all except the locals.

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Parc National des Volcans, Rwanda

Getting to Susa exhausted us.&nbsp; We gratefully took a bush shower, ate dinner and collapsed into bed.&nbsp; We were not looking forward to another round of fighting the dense stinging bush.&nbsp; However, the thought of seeing more gorillas kept us focused.&nbsp; We awoke early again and made our way down to the Park.&nbsp; This time we made it clear to Paul our guide that we wanted the closest group possible.&nbsp; If they could arrange for the gorillas to come to us that would be even better--we would spring for breakfast for all.&nbsp; Paul told us he would do his best. &nbsp; The pattern that we noticed with the groups is that the more fit looking <i>wazungos got placed into the groups tracking the harder to find families; while the older <i>wazungos, wearing their fancy white tennis shoes, got placed into the groups in search of the families who hung around close to the bottom of the volcanoes.&nbsp; We were very discouraged when we were joined by six strapping Icelanders who looked like they could climb to the top of the volcanoes and wrestle the silverbacks. &nbsp; We made another bumpy ride out to the edge of the park.&nbsp; We unloaded our gear and gratefully hired two porters to carry our packs.&nbsp; The Icelanders laughed at the idea of porters and merrily headed off with their copious amounts of camera and hiking gear strapped to their strapping backs.&nbsp; With our heads down we fell in behind--ready for another marathon trek.&nbsp; The farmland surrounding the park is beautiful.&nbsp; We admired our surroundings as we approached the imposing bush that marked the boundaries of the park.&nbsp; We should have trusted Paul. &nbsp; Before we entered the park our guide told us to leave our packs and to bring our cameras only.&nbsp; The gorilla family had been so co-operative that they had come down to the very edge of the park to feed.&nbsp; We saw our first glimpse of our vegetarian friends from outside the park walls.&nbsp; With glad hearts we plunged on in. &nbsp; This time it was the Amahoro Group (meaning <i>peace) with 17 members and 2 silverbacks.&nbsp; We spent a happy hour snapping pics and hanging out.&nbsp; Since this was our second time with the gorillas we were able to take less pictures and just enjoy their company.&nbsp; Playful kids swung from trees.&nbsp; Watchful mothers kept tabs on their brood.&nbsp; The regal silverback lounged in the middle of his kingdom.&nbsp; The hour passed quickly.&nbsp; We walked lightly back to the waiting jeeps and thanked Paul profusely for his wise choice of groups.&nbsp; This time we made it back to the lodge in time for a hot lunch and a relaxing afternoon enjoying the atmospheric surroundings of the lodge.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203907440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203907440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203907440/tpod.html Sat, 11 Oct 2008 20:41:53 -0400 Africa, imperialism's playground: fun for all except the locals.

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Parc National des Volcans, Rwanda

They say that tracking the mountain gorillas is a magical experience that can be life changing.&nbsp; We had many expectations as we prepared for our first gorilla trek.&nbsp; Breakfast was at 5:30 am and we left the lodge at 6 am in order to drive to the gate of the Volcano National Park.&nbsp; At the gate we gathered with the other <i>wazungo (Swahili for white people, or foreigners in our case) to be split off into the different groups who would track the various gorilla families.&nbsp; We were set on visiting Susa Group--the largest family with 39 members (including 4 silverbacks).&nbsp; Soon after our initial introductions with Paul our guide, we had made our desire to see Susa clear.&nbsp; We even considered introducing Mel as "Susa", here to see the Susa Group. &nbsp; Our resourceful guide ensured our spot with Susa--the farthest and most difficult group to reach.&nbsp; The max for each group is 8.&nbsp; We were joined by 3 other couples who had all specifically requested Susa. &nbsp; Francis our gorilla tracking guide gave us a short briefing on the mountain gorillas.&nbsp; Each of the seven habituated families are led by a dominant silverback.&nbsp; Consequently, all of the children in the family are his--though there is "cheating" involved and if&nbsp;discovered the offending subservient silverback is punished. &nbsp; A bumpy ride took us to the edge of the park.&nbsp; We walked for another 45 minutes through the tilled fields of a local village until we reached the park boundary.&nbsp; We dove into the thick bush&nbsp;after Francis, along with our porters and two soldiers armed with AK-47s (for the elephants, buffaloes, and poachers from bordering Congo).&nbsp; Francis was in contact by radio with the advanced trackers who had preceded us at 4 am&nbsp;in order to locate Susa. &nbsp; The going was tough and the high altitude didn't help.&nbsp; The bush&nbsp;was dense and by trial and error we discovered that certain plants in the unfriendly foliage&nbsp;delivered painful stings when touched.&nbsp; We were thankful for our 99 cent gardening gloves from Wal-Mart.&nbsp; One Australian girl found the&nbsp;going very difficult and we had to&nbsp;periodically stop in order to wait for her to catch up.&nbsp; At the frequent stops, Francis&nbsp;spoke in the local language (Kinyarwanda) with the advance trackers over the radio.&nbsp; There were no updates given in regards to time and distance to Susa--this was&nbsp;a bit troubling.&nbsp; The higher we got the tougher the trail.&nbsp; The ground was soon replaced by a mess of roots and foliage.&nbsp; The path was slippery and springy and you had to test the ground ahead with your walking stick to ensure&nbsp;your next step was on firm ground.&nbsp; We thought we would reach the top of the volcano and head into the Congo (it borders Congo) before we reached the group. &nbsp; To make things easier, Francis and the other rangers walked around periodically swinging their machetes at the offending plants.&nbsp; Over four hours after we&nbsp;had left the track, we encountered our first black and hairy behemoth.&nbsp;&nbsp;The first glimpse stuns you.&nbsp; The second and third are captivating.&nbsp; After our first sighting we left our bags and walking sticks and continued on to get closer.&nbsp; Because of the&nbsp;tight conditions in which we encountered Susa, the gorillas were within an arm's length of us. &nbsp; We all stood in awed silence watching the dominant&nbsp;silverback and his large brood lounge and eat in the dense foliage.&nbsp; While the adults tore at the surrounding bamboo trees, eucalyptus&nbsp;trees and other delicacies, the&nbsp;young babies clamoured around, clumsy at times, eating and playing.&nbsp; The gorillas would periodically move to find fresh food and&nbsp;if we were in the way and could not get out of their way in time, they would&nbsp;just brush by&nbsp;with a swipe and a grunt of annoyance.&nbsp;&nbsp;The rangers would grunt back in a fashion that meant "<i>everything is okay".&nbsp; The one hour we had with Susa was a blurry kaleidoscope of awe, fear and fascination.&nbsp; We trekked down tired but&nbsp;content with our encounter with the hairy giants of the volcanoes.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203820920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203820920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1203820920/tpod.html Sat, 11 Oct 2008 18:57:24 -0400 Africa, imperialism's playground: fun for all except the locals.

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Parc National des Volcans, Rwanda

The Land Rover of our guide Paul ate up the beautiful hills of Rwanda as we made our way from Kigali to the northern part of the country and the Volcano National Park.&nbsp; The last Saturday of each month was a national "cleaning day" and Paul proudly explained that communities would gather this day and decide on projects they would co-operatively work on.&nbsp; We sped by many such gatherings of neighbours doing the things most of us reserve for disgruntled civic workers. &nbsp; During our winding ride Paul gave us an in-depth commentary on the nuances of Rwandan society.&nbsp; Outside of the large cities, Rwanda is comprised of rural villages organized around a local market, schools and usually a Catholic church.&nbsp; The villagers work and farm the undulating hills of the countryside and grow mainly "Irish" potatoes, bananas, tea, coffee and a white flower exported to produce insecticide. &nbsp; Surprisingly, everywhere you look, seemingly order and organization rule the day.&nbsp; The villages' huts and buildings are simple mud or clay brick structures--but all seem well cared for.&nbsp; Could it be that as a means to heal the disorder and chaos of the genocide that order and structure are looked at as bandaids for the nation's psyche?&nbsp; The outward signs of redemption and reconstruction are everywhere.&nbsp; The hills that are not farmed are covered in new fragrant eucalyptus trees planted to replace the ones lost in the chaos.&nbsp; Brightly painted mass graves are numerous--the neat and uniform styles of these memorials a final safe bastion for the estimated one million Rwandans consumed in the madness of the 100 days in 1994. &nbsp; The country is spectacular--a backdrop of otherworldly beauty.&nbsp; Our revealing ride brought us to the lodge where we were to spend three nights to go gorilla tracking on the slopes of the five nearby volcanoes.&nbsp; The lodge is built at the top of a hill and on either side of the hill's steep walls are the twin lakes that had been separated in a different age by the volcanic activity of the area.&nbsp; Our private stone chalet, one of eight, was simple but luxurious.&nbsp; The whole development is eco-friendly--probably as much out of necessity due to its remote location than out of any burden for political correctness.&nbsp; All the power is solar, there is no running water.&nbsp; Ash spooned from a nearby jar is the flush for the toilet and a bush shower is our means of cleaning.&nbsp; We enjoyed the simple living. &nbsp; On the top of the hill there is a grand stone lodge with a cozy lounge bar and dining room.&nbsp; Out of every window the seven volcanoes of Rwanda, Uganda and Congo stretched out with the twin lakes below.&nbsp; Didas, our host, and the entire staff gave impeccable service--hot water for the bush shower arrived on the dot as ordered and our drink glasses were never empty.&nbsp; Dinner is served at 7:00 pm in the dining room in communal style with the other guests.&nbsp; We enjoyed getting to know the other characters we were sharing the lodge with over the next few days as we shared about our encounters with the gorillas.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1223167200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1223167200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/paulandmel/4/1223167200/tpod.html Sat, 11 Oct 2008 18:46:49 -0400 Africa, imperialism's playground: fun for all except the locals.

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Kigali, Rwanda

We started this morning with breakfast overlooking the sunrise on the Ngorongoro Crater.&nbsp; Our flight to Rwanda was at 12:15 pm.&nbsp; Since the drive from Ngorongoro to Kilimanjaro airport is normally four hours we planned to set off at 7 am but Moses was late.&nbsp; No time for animals today.&nbsp; Moses stepped on the gas and drove our clunky Land Rover like a Formula One driver through the hairpin curves and blind turns all the way to the airport.&nbsp; We shaved 45 minutes off the drive with one speeding ticket on the way.&nbsp; We don't know if that's his personal best but we needed all the time we could get given our experience at Nairobi International Airport. &nbsp; The ticket purchasing process involved one elderly woman who spent over half an hour literally writing our plane tickets out by hand.&nbsp; She didn't seem too concerned though when the pre-boarding announcement came and went, and she was only halfway through processing our purchase with another girl behind us waiting to buy two tickets herself, and we had yet to check-in, go through security and immigration, etc.&nbsp; Africa is full of such inefficiencies and you need a lot of patience and a sense of humour.&nbsp; For instance, while we were waiting for our plane, we watched while one younger worker slowly painted a wall while his two supervisors supervised him from a nearby bench. &nbsp; We made it onto the plane which was an old twin engine prop aircraft.&nbsp; We arrived in Kigali, Rwanda two hours later and checked into our hotel.&nbsp; We hired a taxi to take us to the Genocide Memorial Museum.&nbsp; We had been to Auschwitz, but this experience was more visceral mainly because as we were touring the site, a large group of genocide survivors were also visiting and a few of them broke down into uncontrollable sobbing. &nbsp; The memorial documents Rwanda before the genocide when the Hutus and the Tutsis apparently lived harmoniously together before the colonization and division of the people along tribal lines by Belgium.&nbsp; The racial tensions created by that backdrop set the stage for the genocide.&nbsp; Now 14 years after the genocide the country is working to put itself back together and to bring the genociders to justice.&nbsp; The final room which showed pictures of children and recounted how they died during the genocide was particularly heartbreaking.&nbsp; Perhaps the most disturbing thought coming out of the memorial was that since such a large percentage of the population actually participated in the genocide, it made you think that many of the murderers are still amongst the general population despite the mass of people already in jail.&nbsp; The burning question for everyone we met here is what each of their stories are during the genocide, but how do you ask such a question?
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