The Long Way to Lilongwe

All events depicted below are true and have honestly happened to me while traveling in Malawi over the last 6 days. In order to make a more engaging narrative, however, I've taken liberty with the timeline and combined entertaining parts of several bus rides into one day's journey.

It is 8:30 a.m. I've already eaten a few slices of bread for breakfast, taken my doxy (for malaria), had a cup of coffee, checked out of my last hostel, and headed out for the next day's journey. I am carrying my large 60L pack on my back, with my smaller day pack on my front. I reach the bus depot around 8:45. They call it a "depot" because "station" would imply there is some sort of building. There isn't much for a station in any of these towns, just a designated dirt lot where vans, taxis, and buses congregate. A friendly Malawian man greets me as "My friend!" and he undoubtedly has a friend who is going my way. I arrange a 45-km ride in his friend's shared taxi for 400 kwacha ($2.70). The friend drives a mid-size Toyota SUV, the kind that normally fits a family of 5 fairly comfortably. We have at least 10 people and 1 chicken in this car. The chicken is in the lap of the woman next to me, and is surprisingly subdued for the journey.

Every 10 - 20 km there is a police roadblock. It's not entirely clear what they are looking for, but my backpack apparently looks suspicious. They inquire to the driver and all he says in response is "mzungu" (white person). This apparently suffices for an explaination and we're let through the gates without hassle. About 20 minutes into our hour-long journey, the car coasts to a stop. It appears something is wrong with the battery, so the driver flags down another car and pulls out some "jumper cables." These "jumper cables" don't have clamps on them, nor do they look to hold much voltage, and it's no surprise (to me at least) when the cables fail to deliver enough assistance. So the driver jumps in the helping vehicle to go buy a new battery. Sensing this might be a long wait, I pull my luggage out of the car and wait for a passing minibus to flag down.

A van pulls up within 10 minutes of waiting and I've arranged the remainder of the journey for only 200 kwacha ($1.35). I give the guy my bag to throw in the back and I crawl in. These minibuses are slightly smaller than a normal 12-passenger van and fit anywhere between 16 and 20 people in them. I cram into the back seat, along with 3 other people (including one man with two chickens in a bag. These chickens are not so subdued.) The van smells strongly of fish and body odor. One-fifth of this country is Lake Malawi and someone is clearly bringing their catch to market.

We arrive in the first town after about 2 hours or so. As soon as I step out at the bus depot, I am in a sea of touts all trying to get me to go with their friend. Without much effort, I'm thrown into one of the other minibuses bound for my next stop. I arrange the 60-km ride for 450 kwacha ($3) and ask if the driver knows the turn off for Kasito Lodge. He does and I asked to be dropped there. Considering the haste in which I was thrown into this minibus, there is a considerable lack of hurry to actually leave. I sit in the minibus at the depot for 2 hours until the vehicle is sufficiently full to leave. I eat a few slices of white bread and buy a Coke for lunch. When it comes time to leave, both the driver and the money-taker (the guy who sits by the door) hop out of the van, start pushing (ala Little Miss Sunshine), the driver hops back in while the vehicle is still in motion and revs up the engine. We're off.

Again, I am sitting in the back and from here I can keep an eye on my luggage in the boot. The rear hatch doesn't actually close, and there's a two-inch gap of air between the hatch and the car. But a frayed looking rope seems to be doing the trick of keeping everything bound in well enough. About fifteen minutes into the ride, it begins to rain. Good thing this minibus has working windshield wipers. Oh wait, I forgot we were in Malawi. The good news is that I'm getting a nice steady stream of rain from the open rear hatch to cool me off. After 2 hours, the bus pulls over at the sign for Kasito Lodge and lets me out.

Turns out both Kasito Lodge and the neighboring lodge recommended by The Lonely Planet are closed. No signs saying why, but they both appear empty and no one answers the locked door. Back out to the road.

It's 4:30 by this point and I'm sitting on my bags on the side of a road running along Viphya Plateau. I can see a distant thunderstorm moving my way. It'll get dark in two hours. Hmm.

I wait about 20 minutes before a flatbed truck pulls over and the driver asks in very good English where I'm headed. I ask him the same. He says he's going as far as Lilongwe and I'm welcome to a lift, free of charge. Only catch is I have to sit in the back of the truck among several bags of charcoal. No problem, I say. I don't want to be on this lonely stretch of road when night falls. I hop on and we take off. As we pass small villages, people on bicylces and children playing in the roads all turn to look at the mzungu riding in the back of this truck, smile, and wave. I spot a sticker on the windshield reading "This Car Fueled By the Blood of Jesus." I think I have just met a real life good Samaritan.

Around nightfall, the nice man pulls over to rearrange some things in the cab of his truck. He points ahead and says "It's raining ahead. Get in the truck and you'll stay dry." So for the remainder of the 3.5 hour ride I'm inside the cab. My new friend, Tregia, speaks pretty good English and rants for a while about how he can't get a tourism visa for the US. But he never asks me for money and refuses it when I offer. He even takes me directly to the hostel where I've decided I want to stay in Lilongwe. When I asked him why he picked me up he just says, "You looked stranded. You can be on that road for hours until a bus pass. Maybe 11 or midnight you not arrive in Lilongwe."

And that, is a solid dose of traveling in Malawi. Often it's the getting there that's the biggest adventure. I'm headed to a small town outside of Lilongwe for a couple of nights and then back here to catch a bus to Lusaka and then on to Livingstone.

Dugout canoes on Lake Malawi

These minibuses fit between 16 and 20 people in them

Fried Chicken at 14,000 ft

I am standing under a small patch of shade on a hot dusty two-lane road waiting to flag down a van going south. There aren't any vehicles in sight, just people walking and riding at least two-to-a-bike. There's unmistakeably African music pumping out of one of the concrete buildings on my left. There are some guys under a bamboo structure grilling meat on a stick, and kids are all running to and from the school around the corner. No doubt about it, I'm finally in Africa. Malawi, to be precise, which seems only to have one main road running north to south. It's easy enough to find a ride because anyone who owns a car here is running a taxi service...or at least that's what it seems like.

5 days in Dar Es Salaam and Zanzibar, 9 days around and on Kilimanjaro, 2 days on the road south into Malawi. It's been a wild trip already and I've got weeks to come. I've already taken a dip in the Indian Ocean, watched sunrise from over 19,000 feet above sea level, and spent over 35 hours on various buses. In keeping with my usual format, there are some musings of the Kilimanjaro expedition and subsequent adventures below.

• The Lion King is actually useful research before coming to East Africa. People honestly say "Hakuna Matata" (no worries) and "rafiki" is Swahili for "friend."
• Our Kili trip employed 35 porters, cooks, and guides for 10 hikers. We could hardly believe it took that many, but after our first meal of epic proportions we understood a little better. Especially on day 3 when we lunched at 4300 meters above sea level and they fed us fried chicken. It wasn't the best fried chicken I've ever had, but it was still fried chicken...at 14,000 feet above sea level.
  
• Our hiking group eventually used the law of averages to get any sort of understanding on what we were doing/where we were going/how long it'd take to get there. We had two guides, each with a different answer each time you'd ask. English isn't their first language and you can tell.
• We went on a pretty basic trip - luxurious for backpacker standards but cheaper than many other outfits. At first we wondered what that extra $1,000 got you, and then we realized at the second campsite that it gets you your own group outhouse instead of sharing with all the other hikers and porters. Nice I suppose, but really a grand for an outhouse??
• I am sure that all the trekking companies summit Kili at sunrise so you don't know what you're getting yourself into as you walk up. Coming down in the daylight it seemed far steeper than I remembered staggering up in the dark...
• Everyone knows the word "yes" but not necessarily the words in your question. I have learned it best to not ask yes/no questions because you'll get an answer, but not necessarily the truthful one.

I'm in Malawi for another 10 days and then over to Zambia to meet the rest of the Munfords in Livingstone, where Sister is working. What a life...

Sunset on Zanzibar

Sunset at Shira Cave Campground elev. 3,800 meters above sea level

Sunrise hits Kili at camp on day 5

Sister and Me at the top of Kilimanjaro!

Jambo from Zanzibar, a small island off the coast of Tanzania!

Well, here I am - on the last leg of my world tour, on the continent I've been most curious about. I flew into Jozi (Johannesburg) last Monday, spent a day without my luggage, and then flew up to Dar Es Salaam. My luggage just barely made it from ATL in time for my DAR flight, but alas, it did. Though it may come as no surprise, it is warm here - like really warm. Not quite northeast Thailand warm, but something akin to southern Vietnam warm. So I've busted out the sunscreen and shades and welcomed a real summer back into my life. I'm on Zanzibar for the big East African music festival, Sauti za Busara (Sounds of Wisdom, in KiSwahili). I'll return mainland on Sunday, meet up with Sister, and then we head to Moshi on Monday to start hiking Kilimanjaro on Tuesday. And with any luck, we should summit on the 19th, which I am sure you haven't forgotten, is my 26th birthday. Initial insights and musings below:

• People in Tanzania speak Swahili, not English. I keep having to stop myself from attempting to speak Spanish. It seems to be my "go-to" language when I feel like people aren't understanding me. I'm pretty sure the people who don't speak English, don't speak Spanish either. So it's back to my days in Southeast Asia, where you speak really slow grammatically incorrect English and just keep smiling - surely they'll figure out what I am saying eventually.
• Who knew that Africa would be the place I felt like I fit in? Okay, okay, my skin color may be a bit more fair than most but in general I'm the right height and normally proportioned. After months of being that ridiculously tall, skinny kid walking around, I actually feel less conspicuous in Africa than I ever did in South America or Southeast Asia. Plus, there are white Africans, so it's not immediately obvious that I'm American.
• Dance is equally as important to a performance as music. Every band we've seen has a few people whose job is primarily to just dance. And holy moly, these girls put Shakira to shame - those hips don't lie, they don't lie at all.
• This is my first time traveling in a Muslim country. The biggest drawback that I have found thus far, is that on a really hot day, when you'd like to get a cold beer and relax on your veranda it's nearly impossible to find a shop that actually sells beer. There are bars and restaurants that sell alcohol, but it is rarely found in the local shops because many of the local people don't drink it. Second biggest drawback is the very loud calls to prayer at 5 am. In the afternoon it's quite lovely to hear, but not so much in the wee hours of the morning.

Next time you hear from me, I'll be down off the mountain.

Final Impressions from South America

This will be my last blog post from South America. It's been twelve weeks and (to quote a fellow travel partner) two scoops of fun. I made it back to Bolivia for a little over a week and then did the big schlep back to Lima (30 hours by bus). Sadly, for some reason when I plug in my camera pictures past New Years don't show up, but check out facebook in a few days and I should have added them. My last thoughts on this pretty spectacular leg of the adventure:

• For countries that are remarkably inefficient, local people certainly are impatient. Surely no one expects the bus to leave on time, but that doesn't stop people from jumping in front of you in lines once the doors open, and it certainly doesn't keep them from stomping their feet and banging the windows when a stop takes too long.
• Based on my interactions of late, all of Argentina is on summer vacation in Peru. All of Brazil is in Bolivia.
• Also, for a place that regularly crams people into small spaces, they aren't really fans of having to squish beside me. Now, I am 5´10" and have recently been weighed in at 135 pounds with my hiking boots on, so other than my legs I don't take up much space. But if that didn't keep two Andean women in Bolivia getting into a cat fight about having to share a 3-seat bench with me on one bus ride. Here's an idea: shed one of your 18 petticoats and put at least one of your three massive bags of stuff on the roof rack. I don't think I can slim down much more without having serious health risks...
• The spanish language, as I have come to know it, is pretty great because they use one word for multiple things that aren't usually related. For example, "que" can mean "what," "than," "to," and probably a number of other things. A less common word like "llama" can mean the animal, flame, or to call someone. This makes vocabulary pretty easy to learn. Unfortunately, some words also sound remarkably alike. For example, "vacuna," which means "vaccine" also sounds like "vicuña," which is a cousin of the llama. Be careful when you walk into a clinic and say "Necessito la vicuña" (I need a little llama cousin) when you mean to say "Necessito la vacuna" (I need the vaccine).
• Like many places around the globe, expect to pay for the bathroom in South America. In some cases, they will even give you a reciept. For those of you familiar with the comedian Mitch Hedburg, this immediately cued: I cannot imagine a possible scenario in which I would need to prove I used the bathroom. Hey man, don't even act like I didn't use the bathroom. I've got a reciept to prove it...
• Catching a bus here is remarkably easy. Just hang out at the bus station, or a corner, and wait for someone to yell your destination. Even in established stations where the counters list the possible destinations, people still feel the need to yell "LaPa-LaPaaaaaz" or "Arequiiiiiiipa, Arequiiiiipa."
• I think I will survive if I never again hear a pan flute cover of an awful song. "The Rose" is bad enough in its original form, let alone in pan flute. These pan flute covers are popular to play on buses anywhere.
• La Paz, Bolivia is built in a canyon, which makes for some pretty spectacular hills. Basically, it is like San Fransisco at 12,000 feet. Yeah, that'll take your breath away for sure.
• I have found that even in cushy seats, 30 hours is destined to make your bum sore (especially if you have a little less padding than you used to).
• I arrived in Lima, the first time in 12 weeks that I have been below 8,000 feet - the oxygen kind of made me nuts. So despite having spent the night on a wobbly bus I went for a 4 mile run just to wear off some of the energy. Nothing like 12 weeks of elevation to get you into outrageous shape.

With any luck, I head out tomorrow night. Back to the states to re-pack the bags, see a few folks and then on to Africa - the final frontier for full adventure.

The Holidays and a Little Titicaca

Just 2 weeks to go in the South American portion of the peregrination! The last week or so includes time in Cusco for both Navidad and the New Year (with a few days of Lake Titicaca thrown in between). Both, I have learned, are celebrated with absurd amounts of fireworks. The fireworks have yet to cease entirely, which means I often find myself ducking for cover while trying to walk down the street. I hope to venture back into Bolivia by the end of the week (I hear Evo rescinded his order to raise gas prices 78% and so the people have stopped rioting) for 10 days or so before schlepping back to Lima for my return flight to the States.

• One pretty fabulous Christmas tradition in Cusco involves nativity scenes. On Christmas Eve, they block off traffic and open the main square for a huge market. You can find the usual wool gloves, alpaca scarves, and leather keychains. You can also find, however, an entire section dedicated to DIY nativity scenes. People (mostly women) are selling the wooden frames, little figurines including llamas and wisemen with chollos (wool hats with the earflaps), and any earthen material needed for adequate manger bedding.
• On Christmas Day, there are vendors lined up outside of the church in the main square selling whatever you may need for a DIY Jesus-cradle. This means people are selling the little baskets, little Jesus dolls, and clothes for the little Jesus dolls. During Mass, people put their Jesus cradles on the steps near the altar and get the Jesus cradles blessed. They just love the DIY-Christmas spirit around here!
• After Christmas we headed to Copacabana and Isla del Sol on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. On Isla del Sol you can eat one of two things - trout or pizza. Our favorite place we found was called Las Velas (the candles) and had no electricity. We were wooed by the sign on the path that claimed "Organic pizza made by gourmet chef." When we finally found the restuarant tucked back into the grove of eucalyptus trees, the guy who took our order was wearing a cap with a rather familiar logo - Domino's Pizza. I guess he's trained with the best? (The pizza was actually far better than Domino's.)
• We tried to leave Copacabana for La Paz, but Evo Morales raised gas prices 78% and people were a bit upset. The civil unrest made La Paz impossible to get to, so plan B was to return to Peru. If our bus didn't leave, our plan C was to steal a swan paddle boat and just peddle across Titicaca. It would've been a great escape story...

Celebrating the New Year with Karin and Liddell in the Plaza!

Copacabana, Bolivia from a nearby hillside

Sunset over Lake Titicaca

Mamma Letter

For those of you who didn't attend or work at Camp Green Cove, there is a weekly ritual known as the "Mamma Letter." The letter is from the camper's counselor (or Counselor in Training) to the camper's parents to give a weekly update. For this blog entry, my two travel companions (both former Green Cove counselors) wrote a Mamma Letter about the past week, namely our 5-day trek to Machu Picchu via the Salkantay Pass. The letter may or may not have been written on the return train to Cusco, over cervezas bought for us by a very nice middle-aged Argentinian man. Pictures below the letter.

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Hola from Peru!

Plettner and Liddell here from Middler Nowhere. This has been a very busy week. Munny was out on a 5-day. She has been enjoying hiking, climbing, and eating. She has also been seen looking at horses and llamas, which is closer to the barn than she has been in years. She even reported seeing the ever-elusive Andean Mountain Elk (also known as the common cow).

Her 5-day Salkantay trek to Machu Picchu was led by Ernesto, a certified DTL from SAS Travel. Though the first day consisted of light hiking, it did include a major activity (swimming) when the group encountered a surprise hail storm. The second day was more strenuous, climbing to over 15,000 feet at Salkantay Pass. Although the day was 9 hours of hiking, Munny kept a smile on her face due to the coca leaves (nature) that she chewed the entire time. On days 3 & 4 Munny and the group made their way from the snowy rocky terrain to the lush mountainous jungle along the Salkantay River. On the riverbank, she and her friends often stopped for chalk talks on how one might run the mighty Salkantay and Urubamba Rivers. After much discussion it was determined that even the legendary A.Bell wouldn't attempt such a feat. After several long days of trekking, she and her new friends relaxed in the hot springs (swimming) at the foot of Machu Picchu. The trip culminated on the fifth day with a visit to Machu Picchu. Major activities included hiking, climbing (without harnesses or ropes) up Huaynupichu Mountain, and being close to llamas (riding/barn).

Munny has done a great job of making new friends, yet keeping the old. She especially got along with two young Aussies, Dave and Kate. By the end of the trip, she and her friends even managed to charm two very tall retired Dutchman who thought they never shut up. Although we do not normally consider eating to be a major activity, the sheer quantity ingested during this trip warrants such a status. Always up for a challenge, Munny and her friends managed to eat more (and drink more tea) than seemed humanly possible. This is in special thanks to Efrain, the cook that accompanied their trip.

We are attaching some photos. Hope you enjoy them half as much as she and her friends enjoyed the trip.

Until next week,

Liddell and Plettner

Ernesto explains how to chew coca

The Green Cove 3 starting off the trek to Machu Picchu

On the hike up to Salkantay Pass

The mighty Green Cove 3 at Machu Picchu

At the ancient Inca city

Buses, Boats, and My Two Feet

I finished spanish classes in Cusco Dec. 3rd and set off for the road - the official test of how much spanish I've been able to pick up. Considering I am now able to understand when the guy says, "To catch the return boat, you need to go to a different port than the one where we drop you off. It is on the other side of the island. Just ask for directions.", I would call my spanish classes a success.

I left Cusco at 6 am (well actually, I got on a bus at 6 am that pulled out of the parking lot at 6:30, did a lap around the main obelisk in town and promptly returned to the station for another hour before it was full enough to proceed to Arequipa). I met an old camp friend, Plettner, in Arequipa, the second largest city in Peru. From there we've been off on some fine adventures, including Colca Canyon (nearly twice as deep as the Grand Canyon in it's deepest spot), Puno on the shores of Lake Titicaca, an island made entirely of reeds, Taquile Island, and then back to Cusco. We're meeting yet another camp friend here on Friday and we all start trekking (via Salkantay for those of you who know anything about trekking in Peru) to Machu Picchu on Sunday. Observations and amusing happenings below (along with pictures).

• It is basically summer down here since it's the southern hemisphere. This also means the rainy season, but still it includes warmer temperatures. The Peruvian response to 75 degree days is the sweater vest with a wool coat on top. I would love to see what these people where during their winter season...
• That said, it was actually cold at night in Cabanaconde, the small village perched on the edge of Colca Canyon where we stayed. Our hostel roof was literally a tarp (hey, you can't beat 12 soles/night including breakfast - $4), so we were concerned with being cold in the night. As a result we each had close to 8 wool blankets on our beds. Luckily, this was plenty sufficient, but it did feel as if we slept with a 20 pound weight on top of us.
• Also, if you are looking for an authentic Navidad experience, might I recommend Cabanaconde. Regardless of where you sleep in town, you will certainly wake up feeling lik Mary and Joseph in a barnyard. It seems perfectly normal for people to keep herds of sheep and chickens in their courtyards, ensuring that everyone in town can hear them at 3, 4, 5, and 6 am.
• There are multiple caminos (paths) down the 3,900 feet to the floor of the canyon (this is not it's deepest point, just the point where we were based out of). However, for each "camino" there seem to be two routes - the local and the express. Of course the "local" is for gringos and the "express" is for the locals. The local obviously has switchbacks, whereas the express seems to go straight down (and straight back up).
• By far my favorite recent discovery about Peru is political in nature. Turns out that when a politician is running for office he or she adopts some sort of symbol. This symbol is on all their advertisements and also printed next to their name on the ballot. This is extremely helpful for people who can't read, but can recognize the symbol of their candidate. Now, often these symbols often have absolutely nothing to do with politics. For example, there is the guy whose symbol is a shovel, or the one whose symbol is a loaf of bread in front of a mountain, or three stick figures holding hands, or a llama, or a hat, or my personal favorite a chicken kicking a soccer ball. I mean, you can't really fault the guy - Peruvians do love chicken and soccer, so why not combine them for political advantage?

Market in Arequipa. Anyone else find it somewhat disturbing to have dolls perched on fruit?

Plett was delayed in getting to Arequipa so I took a day trip to Mollendo, a beach town. It was plenty warm, but full summer season hasn't started yet so the beach was nearly deserted.

Standing at the top of the canyon outside Cabanaconde. That green spot down there is the oasis we hiked to - 3,900 vertical feet down and back in one day's work.

The camino down to the oasis begins in someone's corn field.

The "oasis" at the bottom of the canyon. A great way to spend a couple of hours before schlepping back up to the top.

Vote Elmer. Chicken + soccer = gotta be a good guy.

This guy likes bread. And you should too.

A floating island on Lake Titicaca, made entirely of reeds. Please note the solar panel.