Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Spirit Animal FOUND!
For those of you who would like to see the spirit animal that revealed itself to me on my Vision Quest, click away: http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2184684&l=3eac7&id=616632
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
SF Update
Hello...
So in case you are wondering why I've appeared to have completely sold out by posting Google Ads on my blog, it is because I have an interview tomorrow with Google Adsense and I am trying to familiarize myself with the product. Three job interviews this week, and a number of housing options lined up. I am loving SF and will let you know when all of the variables in my life have been determined!
xo,
S
So in case you are wondering why I've appeared to have completely sold out by posting Google Ads on my blog, it is because I have an interview tomorrow with Google Adsense and I am trying to familiarize myself with the product. Three job interviews this week, and a number of housing options lined up. I am loving SF and will let you know when all of the variables in my life have been determined!
xo,
S
Friday, June 13, 2008
Home!
FYI - I am home, safe and sound! What an amazing trip. The feeling is so surreal that it is almost as if I had a dream that I went to Africa and just woke up the day before yesterday. Tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn I head to the airport for a week in San Fran to start to lay the foundations for the next chapter. Never a dull moment!
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Not Good
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7423444.stm
So yeah... I decided to stay in Malawi. Completed my PADI Open Water Certification yesterday, then went on another dive this morning, and am going on a night dive tonight. Home in 4 days!
So yeah... I decided to stay in Malawi. Completed my PADI Open Water Certification yesterday, then went on another dive this morning, and am going on a night dive tonight. Home in 4 days!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Final Thoughts on Malawi
Hey all,
I am writing from Nkhata Bay, Malawi. I got here at about 4:30am yesterday morning after a relaxing two days aboard the Ilala Ferry. I was sad to say goodbye to the kids, people, and cushy digs in Liwonde with HELP Malawi. But I was excited for the final days of my journey, cruising through Lake Malawi, finally finishing off the last of the books I've been lugging around with me the entire way, and ready to put the finishing touches on my tan before I get back.
Nkhata Bay is as peaceful as can be. Yet (I never thought I would ever hear myself say this), I almost feel like I am as relaxed as I possibly can get. And when you are no longer in the process of relaxing, but rather already relaxed, does it make trying to relax less enjoyable? These are important philosophical quandaries...
I guess what I mean is, without anything to do, am starting to get a little bit bored, and antsy for what is next. I am moving to San Francisco and I am so excited about it. In retrospect, I am glad to have waited until I really knew I was ready before making the move. All of the new SF friends I have met on this journey will definitely help make the transition easier!
With exactly one week left before I head back to the states, I am torn between trying to pull a last minute travel bender to Zanzibar. While this was my original plan, I now have only about 5 days to pull it off, of which a minimum of 48 hours involves more international travel via public transport. I have been so steadfastly devoted to getting to Zanzibar, and even decided it was worth all of the travel drama to get there. Now I find out from a girl in my hostel that the island is experiencing its worst power cut in years, which started two weeks ago and doesn't look like it will be fixed anytime soon. Water prices is soaring, and many businesses have closed down because they are unable to afford generator power. This definitely throws a wrench in my plans. I have the next 12 hours to decide what I am going to do...
I am writing from Nkhata Bay, Malawi. I got here at about 4:30am yesterday morning after a relaxing two days aboard the Ilala Ferry. I was sad to say goodbye to the kids, people, and cushy digs in Liwonde with HELP Malawi. But I was excited for the final days of my journey, cruising through Lake Malawi, finally finishing off the last of the books I've been lugging around with me the entire way, and ready to put the finishing touches on my tan before I get back.
Nkhata Bay is as peaceful as can be. Yet (I never thought I would ever hear myself say this), I almost feel like I am as relaxed as I possibly can get. And when you are no longer in the process of relaxing, but rather already relaxed, does it make trying to relax less enjoyable? These are important philosophical quandaries...
I guess what I mean is, without anything to do, am starting to get a little bit bored, and antsy for what is next. I am moving to San Francisco and I am so excited about it. In retrospect, I am glad to have waited until I really knew I was ready before making the move. All of the new SF friends I have met on this journey will definitely help make the transition easier!
With exactly one week left before I head back to the states, I am torn between trying to pull a last minute travel bender to Zanzibar. While this was my original plan, I now have only about 5 days to pull it off, of which a minimum of 48 hours involves more international travel via public transport. I have been so steadfastly devoted to getting to Zanzibar, and even decided it was worth all of the travel drama to get there. Now I find out from a girl in my hostel that the island is experiencing its worst power cut in years, which started two weeks ago and doesn't look like it will be fixed anytime soon. Water prices is soaring, and many businesses have closed down because they are unable to afford generator power. This definitely throws a wrench in my plans. I have the next 12 hours to decide what I am going to do...
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The Saga: Part 2
Well I can tell by all of your comments that part 1 of the saga was so riveting that you just couldn't WAIT to find out more?! That was sarcastic. Nobody has commented on my blog in quite a while now and I have to admit, it makes me a little bit sad. For what its worth, it totally makes my day when people comment - otherwise I have no way to know who (if anyone?!) is reading. Well screw you all anyways, everyone knows its the writing itself that's the cathartic part.
But back to the saga:
So how did I survive this crazy situation? Well, it was definitely not without a large dose of luck. Minutes after I finished writing in my journal, a local woman tells me that she, too, is headed for Lilongwe and that I can tag along with her. Still over my head about the money (or lack thereof) situation, I get into the first border-bound 'taxi' - in reality more like a 20-year old Toyota Corolla stuffed with 8 passengers - without much of a plan. When we get to the border, my new friend/guardian angel agrees to front me the money and take me to an ATM in Lilongwe where I can pay her back. Thank god! This woman's generosity completely saved my ass.
We proceed to bounce from taxi to taxi, corolla to corolla, finally arriving into Lilongwe 4 taxis and 4 hours later. Kindly, this woman helps me call David, the contact person at H.E.L.P. Malawi, finds me a Malawian simcard for my phone, some breakfast, and puts me on the right bus for Liwonde. Another jam-packed 4 hour bus ride later, I disembark groggily in Lowinde - a town that looks like the identical twin of about every other roadside town we have passed so far: dusty dirt roads, devolving cement and mud-brick edifices, women and children peddling everything from bananas to peanuts to fried bread and potatoes on the side of the road.
I had told David to expect me, and was hoping that we would find eachother on the sheer fact that we are likely to be the only two white people within a 10km radius of the town. I get out, wander a few steps, and sure enough, find David. He guides me toward another mazungo (white person), who turns out to be Jillian Wolstein, the founder and executive director of the organization. I join them for a cold coke and a plate of chips (fries) at one of the town's few restaurants, and tell them about my long and crazy journey. Long story abbreviated, I come to find out that I am sitting in this restaurant in the middle of nowhere in Malawi with two Jews from Cleveland. Ha! What are the odds. It is a seriously small world, I'm telling you.
So we take their safari-esque old school Landrover down the dirt road to Mvuu camp, where the operation is headquartered. It is pristine and incredibly remote. To get to the lodge itself requires a boat across a sparkling river, full of grumbling hippos and stealthy crocodiles. Baboons, elephants, and water buck traipse along the river banks. It is clear that we are in a national park.
Upon reaching the lodge, my fate changes for the better, and in a matter of a few hours, I have gone from rags to riches. The beautiful 4 star safari lodge sits overlooking the river, with dark wood and thatched roofs, canvas-cushioned chairs woven from wood and wicker. As a volunteer, I get to stay here for free - and due to the current overflow of people (Jillian has brought with her an entourage of 5 people), I get to stay my first few nights in a luxury chalet by the river. There is a family of warthogs that munches grass outside my door. They look like Pumba from the Lion King. The beds are soft, the water is hot, and the view of the sun setting over the river is absolutely spectacular.
But things get better when I emerge for dinner to find white linen tablecloths and a three-course menu. The only thing that could and did make me happier was when I discovered that breakfast include da build-your-own omelette bar. Build your own omelette bar?! Where am I?
The following afternoon, I get my first taste of Nanthomba school, the primary school where I will be working. I sit in on a Standard 7 (7th grade class), and help teach an English lesson. The class ended in a full-on Malawian dance party, which, in my opinion, is when these kids' personalities shine the most. The sense of rhythm here is unbelievable, and it is such a freeing and expressive part of their culture.
Last night was David's 25th birthday, and we spent it drinking and dancing around the fire at a cultural village, as a local Malawian band played and the entire village danced alongside us late into the night. I am getting some serious practice in African dance!
That is all for now. Life is good. More soon.
But back to the saga:
So how did I survive this crazy situation? Well, it was definitely not without a large dose of luck. Minutes after I finished writing in my journal, a local woman tells me that she, too, is headed for Lilongwe and that I can tag along with her. Still over my head about the money (or lack thereof) situation, I get into the first border-bound 'taxi' - in reality more like a 20-year old Toyota Corolla stuffed with 8 passengers - without much of a plan. When we get to the border, my new friend/guardian angel agrees to front me the money and take me to an ATM in Lilongwe where I can pay her back. Thank god! This woman's generosity completely saved my ass.
We proceed to bounce from taxi to taxi, corolla to corolla, finally arriving into Lilongwe 4 taxis and 4 hours later. Kindly, this woman helps me call David, the contact person at H.E.L.P. Malawi, finds me a Malawian simcard for my phone, some breakfast, and puts me on the right bus for Liwonde. Another jam-packed 4 hour bus ride later, I disembark groggily in Lowinde - a town that looks like the identical twin of about every other roadside town we have passed so far: dusty dirt roads, devolving cement and mud-brick edifices, women and children peddling everything from bananas to peanuts to fried bread and potatoes on the side of the road.
I had told David to expect me, and was hoping that we would find eachother on the sheer fact that we are likely to be the only two white people within a 10km radius of the town. I get out, wander a few steps, and sure enough, find David. He guides me toward another mazungo (white person), who turns out to be Jillian Wolstein, the founder and executive director of the organization. I join them for a cold coke and a plate of chips (fries) at one of the town's few restaurants, and tell them about my long and crazy journey. Long story abbreviated, I come to find out that I am sitting in this restaurant in the middle of nowhere in Malawi with two Jews from Cleveland. Ha! What are the odds. It is a seriously small world, I'm telling you.
So we take their safari-esque old school Landrover down the dirt road to Mvuu camp, where the operation is headquartered. It is pristine and incredibly remote. To get to the lodge itself requires a boat across a sparkling river, full of grumbling hippos and stealthy crocodiles. Baboons, elephants, and water buck traipse along the river banks. It is clear that we are in a national park.
Upon reaching the lodge, my fate changes for the better, and in a matter of a few hours, I have gone from rags to riches. The beautiful 4 star safari lodge sits overlooking the river, with dark wood and thatched roofs, canvas-cushioned chairs woven from wood and wicker. As a volunteer, I get to stay here for free - and due to the current overflow of people (Jillian has brought with her an entourage of 5 people), I get to stay my first few nights in a luxury chalet by the river. There is a family of warthogs that munches grass outside my door. They look like Pumba from the Lion King. The beds are soft, the water is hot, and the view of the sun setting over the river is absolutely spectacular.
But things get better when I emerge for dinner to find white linen tablecloths and a three-course menu. The only thing that could and did make me happier was when I discovered that breakfast include da build-your-own omelette bar. Build your own omelette bar?! Where am I?
The following afternoon, I get my first taste of Nanthomba school, the primary school where I will be working. I sit in on a Standard 7 (7th grade class), and help teach an English lesson. The class ended in a full-on Malawian dance party, which, in my opinion, is when these kids' personalities shine the most. The sense of rhythm here is unbelievable, and it is such a freeing and expressive part of their culture.
Last night was David's 25th birthday, and we spent it drinking and dancing around the fire at a cultural village, as a local Malawian band played and the entire village danced alongside us late into the night. I am getting some serious practice in African dance!
That is all for now. Life is good. More soon.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
The Saga: Part 1
May 18, 2008
5:00 am
Chipata (?), Zambia
After a period of smooth sailing, I am experiencing the toughest and most challenging day of travel since my stint from Maseru to Coffee Bay, and even that pales in comparison. I woke up at 5:30 am yesterday morning after parting ways sadly and indefinitely with my new friends from my overland trip.
I showed up at the bus station in Livingstone, Zambia about 15 minutes before the bus departed for Lusaka, which I (mistakenly?) took to be a good omen for my travels. 7 hours later, the bus arrived in the Lusaka bus station and I find out that there are no busses running directly to Malawi, as I was previously told, but instead I have to go another 9 hours to Chipata, where I can THEN catch my 1.5 hour bus to Lilongwe, Malawi's capital. With only American dollars and a mild sense of panic on me, I hastily exchanged money with some dodgy black market dealer and later realized that I had been scammed out of at least 10 dollars. Damn it!
The bus, mildly put, is a "locals bus," and I am the only white face among its passengers, loaded at least 15-20 people over capacity. I proceed to sit on the bus for 3 hours as it idles in the Lusaka station watching locals bring aboard everything from sacks of grain, to babies swathed in cloth around their backs, to solar-powered battery chargers. By the time the bus grumbles out of the station, the aisles are full with suitcases, boxes, and bags of grain - on top of which an additional row of people is seated.
Perhaps the highlight of the drive was a pit stop at Zambia's Luangwa bridge at about 9:30pm, where I disembarked to a cacophony of rhythmic Zambian reggae music and the soft glow of candles, illuminating a nighttime market where women peddled fruits, vegetables, and dry salted fish. It was one of those rare, complately authentic travel moments. The only foreigner among the crowd, I felt I was witnessing one of Zambia's hidden secrets. Of course, my camera failed to deliver in that moment, but I will always remember this memory.
Finally, 9 hours after leaving Lusaka, I awake groggily at 2am to find that the bus has arrived at the Chipata station (read: barren lot). Asking one of the attendants about the morning bus to Lilongwe, I find out that the bus only runs certain days of the week and - surprise! - tomorrow is not one of them. Instead, I have to take a combination of three more local "taxis" (read: 8 people packed into a 1980 Toyota Corolla) to reach Lilongwe.
The attendant tells me the price and I return to the bus to check my money situation, only to find that the failsafe Bank of Brazier has, indeed, failed me. I am left groping myself in public in an attempt to recover the lost bills, but to no avail. I am missing $70,000 Zambian Kwatre, or approximately $25 US Dollars. This is the last of my money and there is no ATM in an 100 mile radius. I am starting to panic at this moment, finally uncovering $11 USD in cash among all of my possessions. Value-wise, this should be enough to get me across the border, where there is rumored to be an ATM. However, none of the taxis accept US currency and the black market traders, uninterested in small bills, will take a cut so large that I will again not have enough to make it as far as the ATM.
I fall into a fitful sleep on the parked bus for two hours before I am awoken at 4:30am with a CRASH! as the bus driver, attempting to move the bus, has instead rear-ended another. I reach to gather my possessions and realize that, somehow, in the middle of the night, the bus cleaner has thrown out my entire bag full of food as well as my two bottlees of water.
So here I am, in Chipata at 5:00 am, writing this in attempt to fend off the impending panic. I have officially broken nearly every one of my self-set travel rules, which is to always have in my possession food, water, suncreen, bugspray, my passport, and enough money to buy a bus ticket and a bottle of rum. At the time being, I find myself at a loss for arguably the three most important of these things.
How am I going to find a way out of this mess?
To be continued...
5:00 am
Chipata (?), Zambia
After a period of smooth sailing, I am experiencing the toughest and most challenging day of travel since my stint from Maseru to Coffee Bay, and even that pales in comparison. I woke up at 5:30 am yesterday morning after parting ways sadly and indefinitely with my new friends from my overland trip.
I showed up at the bus station in Livingstone, Zambia about 15 minutes before the bus departed for Lusaka, which I (mistakenly?) took to be a good omen for my travels. 7 hours later, the bus arrived in the Lusaka bus station and I find out that there are no busses running directly to Malawi, as I was previously told, but instead I have to go another 9 hours to Chipata, where I can THEN catch my 1.5 hour bus to Lilongwe, Malawi's capital. With only American dollars and a mild sense of panic on me, I hastily exchanged money with some dodgy black market dealer and later realized that I had been scammed out of at least 10 dollars. Damn it!
The bus, mildly put, is a "locals bus," and I am the only white face among its passengers, loaded at least 15-20 people over capacity. I proceed to sit on the bus for 3 hours as it idles in the Lusaka station watching locals bring aboard everything from sacks of grain, to babies swathed in cloth around their backs, to solar-powered battery chargers. By the time the bus grumbles out of the station, the aisles are full with suitcases, boxes, and bags of grain - on top of which an additional row of people is seated.
Perhaps the highlight of the drive was a pit stop at Zambia's Luangwa bridge at about 9:30pm, where I disembarked to a cacophony of rhythmic Zambian reggae music and the soft glow of candles, illuminating a nighttime market where women peddled fruits, vegetables, and dry salted fish. It was one of those rare, complately authentic travel moments. The only foreigner among the crowd, I felt I was witnessing one of Zambia's hidden secrets. Of course, my camera failed to deliver in that moment, but I will always remember this memory.
Finally, 9 hours after leaving Lusaka, I awake groggily at 2am to find that the bus has arrived at the Chipata station (read: barren lot). Asking one of the attendants about the morning bus to Lilongwe, I find out that the bus only runs certain days of the week and - surprise! - tomorrow is not one of them. Instead, I have to take a combination of three more local "taxis" (read: 8 people packed into a 1980 Toyota Corolla) to reach Lilongwe.
The attendant tells me the price and I return to the bus to check my money situation, only to find that the failsafe Bank of Brazier has, indeed, failed me. I am left groping myself in public in an attempt to recover the lost bills, but to no avail. I am missing $70,000 Zambian Kwatre, or approximately $25 US Dollars. This is the last of my money and there is no ATM in an 100 mile radius. I am starting to panic at this moment, finally uncovering $11 USD in cash among all of my possessions. Value-wise, this should be enough to get me across the border, where there is rumored to be an ATM. However, none of the taxis accept US currency and the black market traders, uninterested in small bills, will take a cut so large that I will again not have enough to make it as far as the ATM.
I fall into a fitful sleep on the parked bus for two hours before I am awoken at 4:30am with a CRASH! as the bus driver, attempting to move the bus, has instead rear-ended another. I reach to gather my possessions and realize that, somehow, in the middle of the night, the bus cleaner has thrown out my entire bag full of food as well as my two bottlees of water.
So here I am, in Chipata at 5:00 am, writing this in attempt to fend off the impending panic. I have officially broken nearly every one of my self-set travel rules, which is to always have in my possession food, water, suncreen, bugspray, my passport, and enough money to buy a bus ticket and a bottle of rum. At the time being, I find myself at a loss for arguably the three most important of these things.
How am I going to find a way out of this mess?
To be continued...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
