I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
The Lone Lion, Etosha Park, Namibia
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Giraffes drinking, so funny! Etosha Park, Namibia
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Lauren hiking in flippies on the saltflats, Namibia
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Reading Henry Miller at the..., Namibia
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
The beautiful Namib Desert, Namibia
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Bushwalking through the Namib Desert, Namibia
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Sunrise on top of Sand Dune 45, Namibia
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Fish River Canyon, Namibia
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
CapeTownFlats, South Africa
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Camps Bay, South Africa
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
On the top of Table Mountain, South Africa
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Very windy Cape of Good Hope, South Africa
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Cape Point, South Africa
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Sailing into a shit storm, CapeTown, South Africa
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more pictures of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Rainbow Breasested Lilac, Kruger Park South Africa
I am going to do a series of picture blog entries from out travels through Africa. Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasetherisingsun for more picture of our adventures and feel free to make comments.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The Sans People (A two part series)
I wanted to just take a few moments to write about some of the amazing indigenous people we met while we were traveling through Africa - and by indigenous I mean people living close to the earth, in a whole separate cultural system. I know it is a late topic for the blog, but I really wanted to share with you some things we learned and some of the experiences we had while staying with these people who are somehow barley holding on to their culture. Their way of life is very different from our own and some of their practices I disagree with slightly (for instance, the way women are treated in Maasai culture) and some qualities I admire, but largely I like that these people are still in the world and living the way they have lived for thousands of years (unlike our very new way of modern living, which it can and should be debated whether it's working or not...). I will talk about two different people in this series, the Maasai of Tanzania and the Sans People (popularly known as the Bushmen) of Namibia and Botswana. They both loosely interweave in and out of our culture, the Maasi more then the Sans. Some might see this as a spoiling of their original way of life; for instance, I have seen some Massai men talking on cell phones and it's hilarious to see them walking around herding their cattle decked out in traditional wear, weapons, beads and all, talking on a cell phone. But the world is a small place these days and perhaps it's unrealistic to think that a culture of people could live with out mingling even slightly with our "modern world".
The Sans People (Bushmen)
Lauren and I stayed with the Sans People in Namibia for a few short days, a stay I wish we could have extended because they were the happiest and friendliest, most pure-hearted people I had met in a long time. We had a translator with us because they only speak a traditional click language. I have always been fascinated by these people, who were even once thought to be extinct. Just 30 years ago they were hunted in Africa like wild animals (yeah like in the 1970's!, crazy right). In fact their population is so small, (less then 2000) that they can't even be considered a tribe. The Namibian and Botswanian governments kicked them out of the Kalahari Desert (land that they have lived on for thousands of years) because diamonds were found on the land (a typical capitalistic move). Their culture was almost totally wiped out, but thankfully they won a court case in recent years and are now able to move back into the Kalahari and are in the process of trying to repair the deep wounds that have been inflicted on their culture.
The night we arrived we sat under the stars and watched them as they danced and sang traditional songs around a fire. It was awesome. We woke up the next day at sunrise and met our translator and a group of young Bushmen (men and women). We introduced ourselves to them and then they lead us into the bush. Along the way they dug up roots or picked some leaves off of various plants and would tell us what they were used for, be it food or medicinal purposes. Everything they need they get from the land by hunting and gathering and they seem to be quite content without material things. As a community living together they all take care of each other. As we were walking, one of the younger Sans boys was digging up some roots. I asked him what he was going to use it for he told me that he was digging it for an older member of his community to help with his kidney problems.
They have a small skinny build, excellent posture and their bodies are very fit. They wear minimal buckskin clothing with a little tale on the back, mimicking the animals they hunt. On colder days they will wear a buckskin wrap-around cape. The men always carry their bow and arrow and hand drill kit and other small tools, along with an ostrich egg for holding water. When they walk through the bush they are almost silent, (hence their name) blending in with their surroundings so seamlessly that we almost lost some of them as we were walking even though they were only a few meters in front of us. When they tell stories they act them out in dramatic exciting displays that students of Juliart would drool over. We were captivated by their tales, even though we could only make out the fragments of meaning through their performances.
The aura of these people is amazing and they have a gentle kindness in there eyes, and I would be lying if I said that I didn't admire their way of life - living harmoniously and respectfully with the earth. You could tell they are content with everything they have because everything they needed the earth provided it for them. Now I'm not saying that we should all live like the Sans People and make our fires with hand drills, live in stick shelters and eat roots, but I do think that a serious connection with nature has been lost with our culture and that needs to be addressed. We can't deny that there are major problems with the way we live our lives. To the modern person these people would look like impoverished savages, and in our modern terms of thinking they are; but perhaps it is us that are poor and living unnaturally. Maybe we are the real savages? Just a thought...
My next entry will be on the Maasai people of Tanzania and Kenya. Stay tuned for pictures of the Sans People and of me dancing with the Maasai, there might even be video...
* I recently read a book by Gary Snyder, written in 1969 called Turtle Island that I think was way before it's time and I think should be read by every thinking, compassionate human being.
The Sans People (Bushmen)
Lauren and I stayed with the Sans People in Namibia for a few short days, a stay I wish we could have extended because they were the happiest and friendliest, most pure-hearted people I had met in a long time. We had a translator with us because they only speak a traditional click language. I have always been fascinated by these people, who were even once thought to be extinct. Just 30 years ago they were hunted in Africa like wild animals (yeah like in the 1970's!, crazy right). In fact their population is so small, (less then 2000) that they can't even be considered a tribe. The Namibian and Botswanian governments kicked them out of the Kalahari Desert (land that they have lived on for thousands of years) because diamonds were found on the land (a typical capitalistic move). Their culture was almost totally wiped out, but thankfully they won a court case in recent years and are now able to move back into the Kalahari and are in the process of trying to repair the deep wounds that have been inflicted on their culture.
The night we arrived we sat under the stars and watched them as they danced and sang traditional songs around a fire. It was awesome. We woke up the next day at sunrise and met our translator and a group of young Bushmen (men and women). We introduced ourselves to them and then they lead us into the bush. Along the way they dug up roots or picked some leaves off of various plants and would tell us what they were used for, be it food or medicinal purposes. Everything they need they get from the land by hunting and gathering and they seem to be quite content without material things. As a community living together they all take care of each other. As we were walking, one of the younger Sans boys was digging up some roots. I asked him what he was going to use it for he told me that he was digging it for an older member of his community to help with his kidney problems.
They have a small skinny build, excellent posture and their bodies are very fit. They wear minimal buckskin clothing with a little tale on the back, mimicking the animals they hunt. On colder days they will wear a buckskin wrap-around cape. The men always carry their bow and arrow and hand drill kit and other small tools, along with an ostrich egg for holding water. When they walk through the bush they are almost silent, (hence their name) blending in with their surroundings so seamlessly that we almost lost some of them as we were walking even though they were only a few meters in front of us. When they tell stories they act them out in dramatic exciting displays that students of Juliart would drool over. We were captivated by their tales, even though we could only make out the fragments of meaning through their performances.
The aura of these people is amazing and they have a gentle kindness in there eyes, and I would be lying if I said that I didn't admire their way of life - living harmoniously and respectfully with the earth. You could tell they are content with everything they have because everything they needed the earth provided it for them. Now I'm not saying that we should all live like the Sans People and make our fires with hand drills, live in stick shelters and eat roots, but I do think that a serious connection with nature has been lost with our culture and that needs to be addressed. We can't deny that there are major problems with the way we live our lives. To the modern person these people would look like impoverished savages, and in our modern terms of thinking they are; but perhaps it is us that are poor and living unnaturally. Maybe we are the real savages? Just a thought...
My next entry will be on the Maasai people of Tanzania and Kenya. Stay tuned for pictures of the Sans People and of me dancing with the Maasai, there might even be video...
* I recently read a book by Gary Snyder, written in 1969 called Turtle Island that I think was way before it's time and I think should be read by every thinking, compassionate human being.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Nepalese, if you please...
What an adventure! We've been in Nepal for just over a week now, and we just got back to Kathmandu after a 4 day walk around Kathmandu Valley. The city of Kathmandu is chaotic, polluted, crowded and dirty. The streets are narrow; barely even built wide enough for horse and carriage. On our first day here we got caught in a traffic jam of tricycle rickshaws, motorbikes, bicycles, and pedestrians. We were literally at a standstill while on foot for a full few minutes. Cars are a curse to Kathmandu. They brought them here in 1955, piece by piece, carried on the backs of porters, before there were even roads and petrol. That was a mistake. There are no emission regulations (of course) and there is so much pollution that shoots out of the exhaust of all these millions of cars that the air is turned black. Since Kathmandu is a valley, you could just imagine all the smog that just sits above the city. Breathing can be difficult and everyone here is constantly coughing up phlegm (sorry to be gross). Seriously, everyone from the dude serving you dinner to the little kid asking for a pen - they are all hocking loogies!
But gosh, we are loving Nepal! The people here are the most wonderful, friendliest, most helpful people we have met on our travels so far. The country is beautiful and exotic. In every alleyway, around every corner is a shrine or a temple, either Hindu or Buddhist - the 2 religions harmoniously coexist side by side in this little newly communist country (they just booted out their king in May).
OK, so what have we been up to? We spent the first few days just hanging out in Thamel - the backpacker district of Kathmandu - sleeping off jet lag, eating(!), orienting ourselves. We visited a huge Buddhist temple in Bodnath just outside the city. It was so tranquil and clean!
On Friday we put on our hiking shoes and headed for the hills! We went to a bus stand to wait for a bus that was supposed to arrive at 1:30. We waited for 3 hours. The bus never came. We walked back to our guesthouse, and the next morning we took a cab to the small village of Nagarkot, at an elevation of 7200 ft. in the foothills of the Great Himalayas. It was a 2 hour drive up narrow, winding roads (they love to use their horns here - around corners, as they pass, when they come up behind another car - it's constant!) We found a guesthouse easily enough when we arrived in Nagarkot and spent the day wandering around the village. The views were spectacular! The snow-capped peaks stark white against the blue backdrop. It was like the mountains were just suspended there. We took a walk down the steep side of a mountain through a jungle to an old Hindu temple. We were looking for a large temple - which we never found - but we found the ruins of a very old temple - well, it was a rock with red paint on it.
That night we climbed a hill to watch the sunset into the mountains. At the top of this hill was a little shack with an Om flag flying on top. Inside the shack sat a Sadhu (a holy Hindu man), named Naga Baba. He was a little crazy, but he invited us to share some Nepali tea and sacred herbs with him, so we of course accepted! I have no idea what he said the entire time, but he shouted a lot and said his name repeatedly, "Naga Baba!" It was definitely a holy experience.
After we climbed down from our "high" hill, we had a candlelit dinner (sounds so romantic, but every dinner here is candlelit since they cut the power for the whole country for 3 hours every night from around 6ish). There were some locals dancing around a t.v. screen to Nepali music in the bar of our guesthouse and as we were about to head off to bed, they invited us to join them. So what the hell! Have you ever tried to dance to Nepali music? Have you ever even heard Nepali music? Think high-pitched, quick, short beats. So we kind of just jumped around and waved our arms. It was pretty crowded in this little square of makeshift dance floor. There was only one other girl, Pispa, and she we pretty drunk. All the guys wanted to dance with me trying to put their hands on my boobs - what is it with these people?? And Pispa wanted Michael to take her to her room. It was getting a little weird, so we decided to leave. When we were saying goodbye to everyone, one of the dudes reached out a grabbed my boob. Seriously. He put his hand on my right boob and squeezed! WTF!! So I smacked him *SMACK* square in the face. Holy cow, it was such a loud smack. No one saw what happened, but they all heard the smack. I yelled out, "You're friend here is a total perve and just grabbed my boob! That's so not cool!" Michael nearly lost it. He had some choice words for the fellow, but I'm sure you can what was said. We are not violent people, but Michael's fists were clenched and I had to pretty much pull him out of the bar. Oh boy, so much excitement.
We woke up early on Sunday, in time to watch the sunrise over the Himalayas. And then we headed off down the road, following a 7 year old map, towards a town called Dhulikhel. The first hour was all uphill to the highest point in the area. We passed through some military training camps and said "Namaste", to some locals hauling everything imaginable in baskets hung from their heads. At the top of the hill I climbed a lookout tower (Michael is afraid of heights) and I could see mountains from the Langtang Lirung in the west all the way to Lhotse in the east, and even the tiny, dot peak of Everest in the distance. It was the clearest morning they've had all season and it was so beautiful.
We headed on downhill from there, and it was pretty much downhill for the rest of the day. We walked through villages with names like Nala and Kavre. As we walked all the village people we passed would greet us "Namaste!" and ask where we were going, where we were coming from, and what country we were from. They all love to give directions and help you along the way. You say "We're going to Dhulikhel." and they point the way, even if there is no other path to take. We met one boy who's brother is at school in the States. He asked for our address so he could give it to his brother, and then he showed us a shortcut!
We had lunch in a town called Banepa (best veggie burgers!). Michael had actually been pretty under the weather with a cold, and at this point we had been hiking for like 6 hours (with 15 pound packs). We were both pretty beat, but Michael was starting to feel pretty ill. We were only 4 km from our destination town, Dhulikhel, and I convinced him that we could walk it, instead of making the stress of finding a bus. Big mistake. Those last 4 km were all up hill on a paved highway, with stinky diesel trucks and buses zooming past. Not good. Michael was not doing so hot. But we made it to the outskirts of town, and then this odd, wonderful man named Ojis (but his English name was Michael and he was so excited about that) found us. He asked us if we needed a guesthouse, but we already had one booked, which happened to be owned by his uncle! What luck! Ojis walked us through the winding streets, through a hidden Shiva temple, up a steep, narrow path through a jungle to a guesthouse located on the edge of a mountain in the middle of an organic farm overlooking the valley and the Himalayas in the distance. Yeah, it was pretty much AWESOME!
Michael woke up the next morning feeling pretty lousy, but he persevered and decided he wanted to move on and not spend the day in bed. We got a bit of a later start, but that was OK, since we only hiked for 3 hours. We were hiking to a village called Namobuddha, built at the base of a Tibetan monastery with the same name (the Namobuddha temple was built at the place where a Buddha gave his life to a starving tigress so she could feed her cubs). The hike (as described to us by Ojis) was up up up and then down down down and then up up up. And boy was it. The first hour we climbed up 1,000 stairs. There were a bunch of school girls walking there, too, and they kept encouraging us to continue on. Then we walked down down down through tons of little farming villages (something like 80% of the population are farmers working for absent landowners). All the little children in the village would run out as we passed through, "Hello! Give me one pen (sweet / money)!" Sometimes we pretended not to understand them, but most of the time we just ignored their requests so as not to encourage that kind of interaction with foreigners.
We made it to Namobuddha in the early afternoon, and we were the only tourists in the entire town. (Actually, we saw only one other tourist the whole time we were walking). It was a pretty sleepy town. There was one motel, the Namobuddha Motel, where we had lunch and where we rented a room for the equivalent of $4. It was as basic a room as you can guess: 2 beds - planks of wood lain in a frame with a thin, lumpy cushion (?) on top. The bathroom was outside around the corner, and it was a squat toilet. There was no running water. For water you had to go out into the town square to the village well.
We climbed up to the Tibetan monastery at the top of the mountain to watch the sunset. Michael made friends with one of the stray dogs who followed us down and spent the rest of the evening with us (stray dogs in Nepal are like stray cats in Egypt - they're everywhere!).
Michael was feeling better yesterday, and it was a good thing, too, because we had quite an adventure! Our plan was to walk from Namobuddha (down down down) 2 hours to the town of Panauti where we would catch a bus to take us to the town of Patan, just outside of Kathmandu. So we walked down down down 2 hours to Panauti. Panauti has an impressive Shiva temple on the outskirts, and we thought it would be a nice place to have a rest and a cold drink. We walked to the temple center to sit in the shade. First of all, the town was filthy. I mean, smelly, dirty, trash everywhere, a sickly cow tied to the suspension bridge to greet you. So we walked over the wire suspension bridge, hung over the most polluted river I have ever seen - people fishing and washing in it - into the temple complex. As soon as we sat down at the base of one of the shrines a man with bettel-stained teeth sat next to Michael. He said he wasn't a beggar and he wasn't trying to sell us anything; he just wanted to practice his English. We weren't really in the mood, but we didn't want to be rude, so we invited him to speak with us a bit. He was "frank" with us and told us he was a "drunkard" and he just drank some alcohol (at 11:30 in the morning). He used to teach English at the primary school, but then he (points to head) "went mental". He smelled something awful and he was sitting pretty close to Michael. I felt bad, but we didn't really want to sit there with him. He told us where to find the buses and so we were off again - back over the scary suspension bridge (dodging a beggar woman who looked like a troll), to the main part of town. The town was eerily silent. There was a cluster of buses and trucks in a square so we walked to that and tried to ask some people what bus would take us to Patan. Some drunk dudes tried to offer us some information, but we don't know what they said. Then we found some clean, young guys, and they were like shining gems in a pile of poo! They spoke almost perfect English and told us that there was no transport running - there was a strike! A bus driver had been killed like a month ago, and the government has done nothing to find his murderer, so all the truck and bus and cab drivers in that district were on strike. Our options were now to either stay in Panauti (which was a sh*thole) or walk another 3 hours to the next district to a town called Saga where we would maybe find a ride to Kathmandu. AH! Our legs were sore, our backs were killing us, we were hot, and we hadn't showered in 3 days! But we weren't staying in Panauti!
So we were off again - walking to the town of Banepa (where we'd have lunch) and then on to Saga where we would maybe find a ride and if not, then on even further to the bigger town of Bhaktapur. We were walking walking walking - luckily it was a pretty straight shot and not up or down hill at all. The only things on the road were pedestrians, yaks, bicycles, and motorbikes (kind of an eerie preview of our future...) There were special minibuses running with a sign in the window "Tourist Only". We tried (unsuccessfully) to wave them down. After the third one past us Michael yelled, "We're tourists! Why don't they put us on one of those?!" Well, we never got a ride on a special, air conditioned minibus, but we did get a ride on something almost as good! We got a ride on a wooden bicycle cart! The kind that they usually haul goods or animals to market on! It was awesome! Some dude pedalling one offered us a ride to Banepa for the equivalent of $1.25, so we hopped on! Some people we passed on the street were laughing at us, but we were laughing at them because we had a ride and they didn't!
Back in Banepa we had lunch (best veggie burgers, again!) and started walking on to Saga, when this shady dude came out of nowhere and asked if we wanted a cab. He said it so quietly, like he was offering us drugs or guns or something. Michael said, "Why, do you have one?" (cuz I really need a fix man...) You have to picture: there are no cars to be seen anywhere, all trucks and buses are abandoned on the side of the road, some are even just left in the middle of the street; so some guy offering us a taxi was like totally unexpected. He led us through some spooky backstreets to where his cab was hidden. We climbed in and were off to Patan! Our original destination! As we drove out of the city, however, we drove into a crowd of protesters waving red flags. The cabbie slowed the car and unrolled the window as the angry-looking group encircled us. I have to say that I was pretty terrified for about 30 seconds. The mean-looking protesters looked in the cab, saw that we were tourists, smiled and waved us on! Man, they love tourists here!
We made it safe and sound back to the craziness of the Kathmandu Valley and found a nice clean guesthouse in the heart of Patan. Now we rest up for the next few days before we head off again, this time on a tour, to trek this beautiful country!
*We really do love the culture and the people here, so we apologize if we sound at all negative in any of my blogs. It can all just be a little overwhelming at times, and we really do just want to give you our raw, uncensored perspectives and experiences.
But gosh, we are loving Nepal! The people here are the most wonderful, friendliest, most helpful people we have met on our travels so far. The country is beautiful and exotic. In every alleyway, around every corner is a shrine or a temple, either Hindu or Buddhist - the 2 religions harmoniously coexist side by side in this little newly communist country (they just booted out their king in May).
OK, so what have we been up to? We spent the first few days just hanging out in Thamel - the backpacker district of Kathmandu - sleeping off jet lag, eating(!), orienting ourselves. We visited a huge Buddhist temple in Bodnath just outside the city. It was so tranquil and clean!
On Friday we put on our hiking shoes and headed for the hills! We went to a bus stand to wait for a bus that was supposed to arrive at 1:30. We waited for 3 hours. The bus never came. We walked back to our guesthouse, and the next morning we took a cab to the small village of Nagarkot, at an elevation of 7200 ft. in the foothills of the Great Himalayas. It was a 2 hour drive up narrow, winding roads (they love to use their horns here - around corners, as they pass, when they come up behind another car - it's constant!) We found a guesthouse easily enough when we arrived in Nagarkot and spent the day wandering around the village. The views were spectacular! The snow-capped peaks stark white against the blue backdrop. It was like the mountains were just suspended there. We took a walk down the steep side of a mountain through a jungle to an old Hindu temple. We were looking for a large temple - which we never found - but we found the ruins of a very old temple - well, it was a rock with red paint on it.
That night we climbed a hill to watch the sunset into the mountains. At the top of this hill was a little shack with an Om flag flying on top. Inside the shack sat a Sadhu (a holy Hindu man), named Naga Baba. He was a little crazy, but he invited us to share some Nepali tea and sacred herbs with him, so we of course accepted! I have no idea what he said the entire time, but he shouted a lot and said his name repeatedly, "Naga Baba!" It was definitely a holy experience.
After we climbed down from our "high" hill, we had a candlelit dinner (sounds so romantic, but every dinner here is candlelit since they cut the power for the whole country for 3 hours every night from around 6ish). There were some locals dancing around a t.v. screen to Nepali music in the bar of our guesthouse and as we were about to head off to bed, they invited us to join them. So what the hell! Have you ever tried to dance to Nepali music? Have you ever even heard Nepali music? Think high-pitched, quick, short beats. So we kind of just jumped around and waved our arms. It was pretty crowded in this little square of makeshift dance floor. There was only one other girl, Pispa, and she we pretty drunk. All the guys wanted to dance with me trying to put their hands on my boobs - what is it with these people?? And Pispa wanted Michael to take her to her room. It was getting a little weird, so we decided to leave. When we were saying goodbye to everyone, one of the dudes reached out a grabbed my boob. Seriously. He put his hand on my right boob and squeezed! WTF!! So I smacked him *SMACK* square in the face. Holy cow, it was such a loud smack. No one saw what happened, but they all heard the smack. I yelled out, "You're friend here is a total perve and just grabbed my boob! That's so not cool!" Michael nearly lost it. He had some choice words for the fellow, but I'm sure you can what was said. We are not violent people, but Michael's fists were clenched and I had to pretty much pull him out of the bar. Oh boy, so much excitement.
We woke up early on Sunday, in time to watch the sunrise over the Himalayas. And then we headed off down the road, following a 7 year old map, towards a town called Dhulikhel. The first hour was all uphill to the highest point in the area. We passed through some military training camps and said "Namaste", to some locals hauling everything imaginable in baskets hung from their heads. At the top of the hill I climbed a lookout tower (Michael is afraid of heights) and I could see mountains from the Langtang Lirung in the west all the way to Lhotse in the east, and even the tiny, dot peak of Everest in the distance. It was the clearest morning they've had all season and it was so beautiful.
We headed on downhill from there, and it was pretty much downhill for the rest of the day. We walked through villages with names like Nala and Kavre. As we walked all the village people we passed would greet us "Namaste!" and ask where we were going, where we were coming from, and what country we were from. They all love to give directions and help you along the way. You say "We're going to Dhulikhel." and they point the way, even if there is no other path to take. We met one boy who's brother is at school in the States. He asked for our address so he could give it to his brother, and then he showed us a shortcut!
We had lunch in a town called Banepa (best veggie burgers!). Michael had actually been pretty under the weather with a cold, and at this point we had been hiking for like 6 hours (with 15 pound packs). We were both pretty beat, but Michael was starting to feel pretty ill. We were only 4 km from our destination town, Dhulikhel, and I convinced him that we could walk it, instead of making the stress of finding a bus. Big mistake. Those last 4 km were all up hill on a paved highway, with stinky diesel trucks and buses zooming past. Not good. Michael was not doing so hot. But we made it to the outskirts of town, and then this odd, wonderful man named Ojis (but his English name was Michael and he was so excited about that) found us. He asked us if we needed a guesthouse, but we already had one booked, which happened to be owned by his uncle! What luck! Ojis walked us through the winding streets, through a hidden Shiva temple, up a steep, narrow path through a jungle to a guesthouse located on the edge of a mountain in the middle of an organic farm overlooking the valley and the Himalayas in the distance. Yeah, it was pretty much AWESOME!
Michael woke up the next morning feeling pretty lousy, but he persevered and decided he wanted to move on and not spend the day in bed. We got a bit of a later start, but that was OK, since we only hiked for 3 hours. We were hiking to a village called Namobuddha, built at the base of a Tibetan monastery with the same name (the Namobuddha temple was built at the place where a Buddha gave his life to a starving tigress so she could feed her cubs). The hike (as described to us by Ojis) was up up up and then down down down and then up up up. And boy was it. The first hour we climbed up 1,000 stairs. There were a bunch of school girls walking there, too, and they kept encouraging us to continue on. Then we walked down down down through tons of little farming villages (something like 80% of the population are farmers working for absent landowners). All the little children in the village would run out as we passed through, "Hello! Give me one pen (sweet / money)!" Sometimes we pretended not to understand them, but most of the time we just ignored their requests so as not to encourage that kind of interaction with foreigners.
We made it to Namobuddha in the early afternoon, and we were the only tourists in the entire town. (Actually, we saw only one other tourist the whole time we were walking). It was a pretty sleepy town. There was one motel, the Namobuddha Motel, where we had lunch and where we rented a room for the equivalent of $4. It was as basic a room as you can guess: 2 beds - planks of wood lain in a frame with a thin, lumpy cushion (?) on top. The bathroom was outside around the corner, and it was a squat toilet. There was no running water. For water you had to go out into the town square to the village well.
We climbed up to the Tibetan monastery at the top of the mountain to watch the sunset. Michael made friends with one of the stray dogs who followed us down and spent the rest of the evening with us (stray dogs in Nepal are like stray cats in Egypt - they're everywhere!).
Michael was feeling better yesterday, and it was a good thing, too, because we had quite an adventure! Our plan was to walk from Namobuddha (down down down) 2 hours to the town of Panauti where we would catch a bus to take us to the town of Patan, just outside of Kathmandu. So we walked down down down 2 hours to Panauti. Panauti has an impressive Shiva temple on the outskirts, and we thought it would be a nice place to have a rest and a cold drink. We walked to the temple center to sit in the shade. First of all, the town was filthy. I mean, smelly, dirty, trash everywhere, a sickly cow tied to the suspension bridge to greet you. So we walked over the wire suspension bridge, hung over the most polluted river I have ever seen - people fishing and washing in it - into the temple complex. As soon as we sat down at the base of one of the shrines a man with bettel-stained teeth sat next to Michael. He said he wasn't a beggar and he wasn't trying to sell us anything; he just wanted to practice his English. We weren't really in the mood, but we didn't want to be rude, so we invited him to speak with us a bit. He was "frank" with us and told us he was a "drunkard" and he just drank some alcohol (at 11:30 in the morning). He used to teach English at the primary school, but then he (points to head) "went mental". He smelled something awful and he was sitting pretty close to Michael. I felt bad, but we didn't really want to sit there with him. He told us where to find the buses and so we were off again - back over the scary suspension bridge (dodging a beggar woman who looked like a troll), to the main part of town. The town was eerily silent. There was a cluster of buses and trucks in a square so we walked to that and tried to ask some people what bus would take us to Patan. Some drunk dudes tried to offer us some information, but we don't know what they said. Then we found some clean, young guys, and they were like shining gems in a pile of poo! They spoke almost perfect English and told us that there was no transport running - there was a strike! A bus driver had been killed like a month ago, and the government has done nothing to find his murderer, so all the truck and bus and cab drivers in that district were on strike. Our options were now to either stay in Panauti (which was a sh*thole) or walk another 3 hours to the next district to a town called Saga where we would maybe find a ride to Kathmandu. AH! Our legs were sore, our backs were killing us, we were hot, and we hadn't showered in 3 days! But we weren't staying in Panauti!
So we were off again - walking to the town of Banepa (where we'd have lunch) and then on to Saga where we would maybe find a ride and if not, then on even further to the bigger town of Bhaktapur. We were walking walking walking - luckily it was a pretty straight shot and not up or down hill at all. The only things on the road were pedestrians, yaks, bicycles, and motorbikes (kind of an eerie preview of our future...) There were special minibuses running with a sign in the window "Tourist Only". We tried (unsuccessfully) to wave them down. After the third one past us Michael yelled, "We're tourists! Why don't they put us on one of those?!" Well, we never got a ride on a special, air conditioned minibus, but we did get a ride on something almost as good! We got a ride on a wooden bicycle cart! The kind that they usually haul goods or animals to market on! It was awesome! Some dude pedalling one offered us a ride to Banepa for the equivalent of $1.25, so we hopped on! Some people we passed on the street were laughing at us, but we were laughing at them because we had a ride and they didn't!
Back in Banepa we had lunch (best veggie burgers, again!) and started walking on to Saga, when this shady dude came out of nowhere and asked if we wanted a cab. He said it so quietly, like he was offering us drugs or guns or something. Michael said, "Why, do you have one?" (cuz I really need a fix man...) You have to picture: there are no cars to be seen anywhere, all trucks and buses are abandoned on the side of the road, some are even just left in the middle of the street; so some guy offering us a taxi was like totally unexpected. He led us through some spooky backstreets to where his cab was hidden. We climbed in and were off to Patan! Our original destination! As we drove out of the city, however, we drove into a crowd of protesters waving red flags. The cabbie slowed the car and unrolled the window as the angry-looking group encircled us. I have to say that I was pretty terrified for about 30 seconds. The mean-looking protesters looked in the cab, saw that we were tourists, smiled and waved us on! Man, they love tourists here!
We made it safe and sound back to the craziness of the Kathmandu Valley and found a nice clean guesthouse in the heart of Patan. Now we rest up for the next few days before we head off again, this time on a tour, to trek this beautiful country!
*We really do love the culture and the people here, so we apologize if we sound at all negative in any of my blogs. It can all just be a little overwhelming at times, and we really do just want to give you our raw, uncensored perspectives and experiences.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Egypt in Retrospect
Observations of Egypt:
Before we left home my sister, Dani, the anthropologist gave us some advice that I keep close in mind whenever experiencing a new culture/country. She said "There's no best or worst way to live. Just different." What she means is that when traveling for a while, or spending a long time in a different culture, it's easy to lose yourself. You can either become so immersed and impressed with this new and different culture that you start to view your own with disdain. Or on the other side of that, you could be disgusted with the culture you are visiting and see your culture and home as superior. I'm sure you've picked up on my allusions to my disdain for Egypt in my emails about our experiences here. As much as I'd like to sound impartial and give you a view of Egypt that is neutral and fact-based, I'm not an anthropologist. And while I'll be one of the first to point out the many flaws of my own culture, I'm also a glass-half-full kind of girl. All that being said, here's my impression of Egypt:
Egypt kind of looks like a country recovering from a war. The buildings are dilapidated and crumbling. In fact, yesterday a building in Alexandria just collapsed, killing 12 people. There is no sense of organization or order here. The country would do good from a pressure cleaner and a coat of paint. No one takes care of the public places. Stairways, hallways, spaces between shop fronts are filthy. But people do take care to keep their immediate property clean. There is no trash removal, and the few trash cans that are placed throughout the cities are quickly stuffed to the brim and overflowing. Empty lots, fields, alleyways are filled with trash. It seems like all progress ended in 1960. The public busses, most of the cars, and most of the architecture are all from the 50s. I guess corruption really ruined this country. Our tour guide, Mamdoh, told me that Egypt was quite industrialized throughout the first half of the century. But it really all just stopped.
Michael and I experienced some of this corruption first hand one afternoon while having lunch. We were sitting on a bench outside a restaurant, just off the sidewalk. Actually our view was pretty spectacular: we could see the pyramids of Giza if we looked over and through the throng of traffic on the street. While we were sitting there, a man dressed normally in a button-down shirt and pants, wearing a gun in a holster on his hip walked by us. He smiled as he walked by and said, "Hello!" He took a few more steps, before stopping and turning around to come speak with us. He didn't come that close, keeping about 10 ft. between us. He said, "Hello. Welcome!" (They all say that here) Michael and I smiled back, apprehensively. We didn't say anything. Then the man said, "English?" So, we both kind of nodded, but still, we didn't say anything. The man looked around, then pointed to the gun in his holster and said "Police." So I gave him the thumbs up. Then he said pointing to his chest, "Not normal police," shaking his head. Puts out his hand, "Give me money." Michael and I were dumbfounded. We just continued to stare at him blankly, heads cocked. He stood there for another minute or two, asked for money a couple more times, pointed to his gun a bunch, but we didn't budge. Finally the man got bored and walked away.
Everyone wants you to give them money! There were 6 of us riding in the back of a pickup truck through a non-touristy town called Dawar (or something like that). As we drove through the village 3 little boys, around 10 years old, ran up and jumped onto the back of the truck. The smallest one yelled, "Hello how are you!" (like they all do). So we all yelled back "Hello!" They were cute kids. Then the boy put out his hand, palm up and said, "Money!" So Michael leaned forward, put out his hand, palm up and said "Money!" The boy was confused. He tried again, "Money." Then we all leaned forward, hands out, palms up, "Money!" we all yelled in unison. The boy laughed nervously and tried one last time before jumping off and running away.
But then there's the waiter who gave us a big bottle of water for free at the restaurant. And the other waiter who took my flip flop from me when it broke and fixed it with a nail, and wouldn't even accept our tip. And the guys who own the hostel where we are staying who are just gems!
Fashion also seems to be lost here. Color is cherished, and no color combo is wrong. Yellow and green were a favorite of the girls of Alexandria.
Boys hold hands and link arms with their friends. This is not at all considered homosexual. Mustaches are revered as studly. Greasy hair is handsome.
They seem to like meaty women. Or at least the Bedouin do. While having dinner at our Bedouin friend's house in Bahayira, his creepy half brother showed us some videos on his cell phone of thick women wearing tight clothes, showing off their cleavage belly dancing. It was quite provocative and disturbing. Some of the videos looked homemade. He was giggling scandalously like he was showing us porn.
Men will take every opportunity possible to touch a boob. The donkey boy who helped me onto my donkey in Luxor picked me up under the arms with a hand on my right boob. While driving in the front seat of a taxi one of the girls in our tour had her boob brushed several times as the taxi driver pointed out sights.
Our Bedouin friend showed me how to tie my scarf like the Muslim girls do. Then he told me that I looked pretty now!
If I was Muslim I'd have to wear the scarf over my eyes since my hairline runs into my eyebrows.
High speed Internet does not exist in Egypt.
Music sound quality does not exist in Egypt. All music is ALWAYS garbled.
There are stray cats EVERYWHERE.
Little babies have the faces of grown men.
Grown men have a wolfish quality about them.
The sights are worth the visit, but no one needs to spend a month here.
I think we've overstayed our welcome.
Before we left home my sister, Dani, the anthropologist gave us some advice that I keep close in mind whenever experiencing a new culture/country. She said "There's no best or worst way to live. Just different." What she means is that when traveling for a while, or spending a long time in a different culture, it's easy to lose yourself. You can either become so immersed and impressed with this new and different culture that you start to view your own with disdain. Or on the other side of that, you could be disgusted with the culture you are visiting and see your culture and home as superior. I'm sure you've picked up on my allusions to my disdain for Egypt in my emails about our experiences here. As much as I'd like to sound impartial and give you a view of Egypt that is neutral and fact-based, I'm not an anthropologist. And while I'll be one of the first to point out the many flaws of my own culture, I'm also a glass-half-full kind of girl. All that being said, here's my impression of Egypt:
Egypt kind of looks like a country recovering from a war. The buildings are dilapidated and crumbling. In fact, yesterday a building in Alexandria just collapsed, killing 12 people. There is no sense of organization or order here. The country would do good from a pressure cleaner and a coat of paint. No one takes care of the public places. Stairways, hallways, spaces between shop fronts are filthy. But people do take care to keep their immediate property clean. There is no trash removal, and the few trash cans that are placed throughout the cities are quickly stuffed to the brim and overflowing. Empty lots, fields, alleyways are filled with trash. It seems like all progress ended in 1960. The public busses, most of the cars, and most of the architecture are all from the 50s. I guess corruption really ruined this country. Our tour guide, Mamdoh, told me that Egypt was quite industrialized throughout the first half of the century. But it really all just stopped.
Michael and I experienced some of this corruption first hand one afternoon while having lunch. We were sitting on a bench outside a restaurant, just off the sidewalk. Actually our view was pretty spectacular: we could see the pyramids of Giza if we looked over and through the throng of traffic on the street. While we were sitting there, a man dressed normally in a button-down shirt and pants, wearing a gun in a holster on his hip walked by us. He smiled as he walked by and said, "Hello!" He took a few more steps, before stopping and turning around to come speak with us. He didn't come that close, keeping about 10 ft. between us. He said, "Hello. Welcome!" (They all say that here) Michael and I smiled back, apprehensively. We didn't say anything. Then the man said, "English?" So, we both kind of nodded, but still, we didn't say anything. The man looked around, then pointed to the gun in his holster and said "Police." So I gave him the thumbs up. Then he said pointing to his chest, "Not normal police," shaking his head. Puts out his hand, "Give me money." Michael and I were dumbfounded. We just continued to stare at him blankly, heads cocked. He stood there for another minute or two, asked for money a couple more times, pointed to his gun a bunch, but we didn't budge. Finally the man got bored and walked away.
Everyone wants you to give them money! There were 6 of us riding in the back of a pickup truck through a non-touristy town called Dawar (or something like that). As we drove through the village 3 little boys, around 10 years old, ran up and jumped onto the back of the truck. The smallest one yelled, "Hello how are you!" (like they all do). So we all yelled back "Hello!" They were cute kids. Then the boy put out his hand, palm up and said, "Money!" So Michael leaned forward, put out his hand, palm up and said "Money!" The boy was confused. He tried again, "Money." Then we all leaned forward, hands out, palms up, "Money!" we all yelled in unison. The boy laughed nervously and tried one last time before jumping off and running away.
But then there's the waiter who gave us a big bottle of water for free at the restaurant. And the other waiter who took my flip flop from me when it broke and fixed it with a nail, and wouldn't even accept our tip. And the guys who own the hostel where we are staying who are just gems!
Fashion also seems to be lost here. Color is cherished, and no color combo is wrong. Yellow and green were a favorite of the girls of Alexandria.
Boys hold hands and link arms with their friends. This is not at all considered homosexual. Mustaches are revered as studly. Greasy hair is handsome.
They seem to like meaty women. Or at least the Bedouin do. While having dinner at our Bedouin friend's house in Bahayira, his creepy half brother showed us some videos on his cell phone of thick women wearing tight clothes, showing off their cleavage belly dancing. It was quite provocative and disturbing. Some of the videos looked homemade. He was giggling scandalously like he was showing us porn.
Men will take every opportunity possible to touch a boob. The donkey boy who helped me onto my donkey in Luxor picked me up under the arms with a hand on my right boob. While driving in the front seat of a taxi one of the girls in our tour had her boob brushed several times as the taxi driver pointed out sights.
Our Bedouin friend showed me how to tie my scarf like the Muslim girls do. Then he told me that I looked pretty now!
If I was Muslim I'd have to wear the scarf over my eyes since my hairline runs into my eyebrows.
High speed Internet does not exist in Egypt.
Music sound quality does not exist in Egypt. All music is ALWAYS garbled.
There are stray cats EVERYWHERE.
Little babies have the faces of grown men.
Grown men have a wolfish quality about them.
The sights are worth the visit, but no one needs to spend a month here.
I think we've overstayed our welcome.
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