Numbers Don't Lie

All the stats stats stats you ever wanted to know...plus some of our favorite photos in a slideshow.

Continents visited: 6
Countries visited: 17
Bribes given: 1, OK probably 2

Hottest temperature: Bangkok at 100F
Coldest temperature: Kilimanjaro at -10F

Phone cards purchased and not used: 3
Other useless cards purchased: 2 (international drivers' license and Hostelling International cards)

Annoying songs that played incessantly, spanning multiple weeks and multiple countries until we felt malaria-style crazy: 4 (Beautiful Girls by Sean Kingston, Umbrella by Rihanna, African Queen by 2face Idibia, that Boat and Raft song by all southeast asian musicians)

Injuries: Dennis 7 (not including 4 trip/fall accidents), Kristi 2
Illnesses: Dennis 3, Kristi 4
Illnesses cured: Dennis 2 (excema, migraines), Kristi 1 (beer allergy)
Weight lost: 80 lbs

Number of old European ladies that were bigots that we were forced to spend time with: 2

Types of places slept in: 13 (tents, a van, hotel, hostel/guesthouse/residencia, apartments aka kindness of friends and total strangers, airports, planes, buses, trains, brothels, flop houses, a cult, and dorm rooms)

Nations that know what decent coffee is: 5 (but what does it matter when you're usually served Nescafe anyway)

Modes of transportation taken: 20 (airplane, ferry, party van, city bus, intercity bus, train, subway train, funicular, commuting escalator, cab, moped, dalla dalla, combi, saamlaew, tuk tuk, crocodile boat, long tail boat, land rover, bicycle and cyclo)

Longest bus ride: 22 hrs from Iguazu to Cordoba

Most off-schedule bus ride: Phitsonuluk to Suknohnoket, where a 1 1/2 hour bus ride turns into 3 when the driver stops to pick up groceries, drop off laundry, pick up his son's friends. Oh, and mopeds were passing our sad, anemic bus on the left!

Most fun bus ride: Huay Xai to Luang Nam Tha (meeting Paula, drinking lao lao with old men on the side of the road, laughing at the entire family puking in the row behind us, and feeling exhilarated by the hair-pin mountain turns and near-misses with livestock)

Most uncomfortable bus ride: Luang Nam Tha to Luang Prabang (again, Laos, but this time at 14 hours through amazing scenery which we didn't really see because we were sitting on bags of rice in the middle of the aisle)

Worst bus ride: 3 hour trip from Hanoi to Halong Bay sitting in front of 3 Australian friends talking really loudly. Sample conversation:
Friend #1: "Hollywood movies are such crap. I usually just avoid them."
Friend #2: "Oh yea, me too. Except for the Cohen Brothers. They're pretty good. Wait, that's not it. I mean the Farrelly Brothers. Dumb and Dumber is the best movie of the decade."
Friend #1: "Oh yea, they're great. Pretty much the only American films I'll watch anymore are Jim Carrey films. Well, Robin Williams, too."
Friend #2: "I loooove Robin Williams. AND Jim Carrey (etc. etc. for the next hour...)"

Most watched film on a bus: Rush Hour 3 (4 times on asian buses)

Number of buses taken: Incalculable

Longest flight: Hong Kong to Jo'Berg at 16 hours
Shortest flight: Vientienne to Siem Reap at 1 1/2 hours
Most favored airline: a tie between JAL and LAN
Most hated airline: Iberian

Most days without showering/ bathing: 7 on Kilimanjaro

Number of salt, pepper, sugar, or powdered milk packets "acquired": 65
Number of mini-soaps "acquired": 54
Number of "high-quality" condiment packets "acquired" (your soy sauce, jam, butter, etc..): 31

Number of actual alpaca sightings: 2

Well, that's about it. So long, folks, and thanks for reading! Until next time...
-K

Best of the Trip

Without further ado...

Most Favored Nations
Laos
Tanzania
Zambia
New Zealand
Japan
Turkey

Favorite Big Cities
Barcelona
Tokyo
Istanbul
London
Bangkok
Buenos Aires

Favorite Small Cities
Dunedin, NZ
Zanzibar Stone Town, TZ
Wellington, NZ
Chiang Mai, TH
Seville, SP
Phitsanulok, TH

Favorite Small Towns
Goreme, TR
Luang Nam Tha, LA
Lushoto, TZ
Hang Roa, CL

Favorite Natural Places
Kilimanjaro
Victoria Falls
Iguazu Falls
Serengeti/ Ngorogoro/ Lake Manyara (Tanzania safari)
Easter Island
Grand Canyon NP
Milford Sound
Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers
Tam Coc
Sequoia NP

Best Meals
Monigo's home cooked dinner in Tokyo
Any/ all udon in Tokyo
Any/ all Thai food (except 1 plate of terrible pad thai)
Mexican food in Chiang Mai (yes, really)
Pho in Saigon and HaNoi
Anna's mother's homemade Spanish tortilla
Menemen and Turkish breakfast (a tie)
Lunch at Japanese 7-11s
Ugali in Dar es Salaam
Fruit shakes in Cambodia
Sol y Luna "naturista" restaurant in Cordoba, Argentina
Omlettes at White Rose in Battambang, Cambodia
Touy and his wife's baguette sandwiches in Luang Nam Tha, Laos
Jungle cooking in Nam Tha NF (rattan soup, wild mushroom and banana flower stir-fry)
South Indian snack shops in Tanzania
Maoz falafel in Spain (yes it's a chain, no we were not traveling in falafel-rich countries)
Wine in Spain and Argentina (even the $2 bottles and boxes)
TVP in Zambia (tastes just like chicken, I swear)

Favorite Historical Sites
Angkor Wat
Rapa Nui
Istanbul
Stone Town, Zanzibar
Goreme/ Cappadocia
El Alhambra
Wats in Bangkok
Aya Sofia
Olympos
Wats in Chiang Mai
Sukhothai
Luang Prabang

Favorite Museums
Apartheid Museum, Johannesburg, South Africa
Choeung Ek Killing Fields, Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Tuol Sleng Prison Museum, Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Museo de Arte Latinoamericano, Buenos Aires, Argentina
Tate Modern, London, England
Prado, Madrid, Spain
Crazy House, Dalat, Vietnam
Park Guell, Barcelona, Spain
Picasso Museum, Barcelona, Spain
War Remnants Museum, HCMC, Vietnam

Favorite Markets
Nihn Bihn
Saigon
Chiang Mai night market and local's market
Istanbul spice market
San Telmo antiques market in Buenos Aires
*Favorite Mall: MBK in Bangkok

Favorite Bargaining Moments

• HaNoi bread lady (Why did she hate me and love Dennis?! Why did her prices change minute to minute?)
• First cabbie in Bangkok (Dennis puts his foot down)
• Arusha safari/Kili operator (Mostly because we got a way better deal than the Danish lady)
• Nihn Bihn market (Lots of teenage girls pointing and giggling at Dennis. Just because I low-ball you on a pair of mittens, doesn't mean you should call over other vendors to laugh. Also learned a valuable lesson about myself: If I'm force-fed dozens of candies, I will end up buying way too much candy.)
• Hoi An guesthouse (Dennis throws old school hissy fit)

Favorite Places Stayed
Anna and Juan, Seville
Jonathan, Lusaaka
Daniel, Wellington
Axel and Merwa, Granada
Hotel Mayorazgo, Madrid (fanciest place, hands down)
Darasavath Guesthouse, Luang Nam Tha
Camping in the Serengeti
Hotel Maipu, Buenos Aires
The 'Party Van', New Zealand (except gravel pile/ 4 am rooster night, and mosquito swarm down by the river night)
Akha Lodge, Nam Tha NF
Shoestring Cavern, Goreme
*and for a sense of balance, our least favorite: Legend Has It West End hostel in Sydney

Favorite Phrases Learned
New Zealand
- sweet as...(cool)
- stubbies (manly short-shorts)

Thailand
- lady boy (where to begin?)
- farang (foreigner)
- laa kha (goodbye), khaaw hai chohk dee (good luck)

Laos
- sabadee (hi)
- sabadee (hi)
- sabadee bo (how are you?)
- sabadee (I'm fine, thanks)
- sabadee bo (how are you?)
- sabadee (I'm fine, thanks)
- Koi bo kin siin (I don't eat meat), koi kin de tuk-tuk (I only eat tuk-tuks)

Cambodia
- te ah kuhn (no thank you)

Vietnam
- chuc mung nam moi! (happy new year)
- tai sao khong! (why not)
- dat qua! (that's too expensive)

Japan
- konnichiwa bitches (hello bitches)
- j-chud, j-bono, j-pop, j-anything (japanese-)

Tanzania
- mambo (hi, how's it going?)
- poa co chiz com ndizi (I'm cool crazy like a banana)

Turkey
- tesekkur ederim (thank you)
- sow (the easier way to say thank you)

Spain
- vale vale (OK OK, said in nearly every sentence)

Argentina
- hola/ciao chicos (hi/bye guys)

The Madcap Recap Begins

OK, first I must apologize for being blog-negligent. After a whirlwind road trip back east, the interesting experience of finding an apartment in New York, and actually getting settled, we're finally ready to lift our nose from the grindstone of finding gainful employment to provide our readers with some kind of trip recap. We promised stats and 'best of' lists. Numbers don't lie, and neither do we. So consider this the first in a couple of posts before we let this blog slide into the annals of internets history.

So how did we arrive at this point, you ask? Well, after our trip up and down the I-5 corridor, we headed back east for real, making our first stop in Pocatello, Idaho: the rough midpoint between Denver and Portland; a meeting place with our friends Phil and Alexis moving their lives in the other direction; a tiny city that no cartographer can imagine, let alone map; and our first opportunity in the U.S. for Dennis to compulsively add to his supply of mini-soaps.

After Pocatello, we spent a few days camping and hiking in Yellowstone National Park. We didn't see any bears, but we ingratiated ourselves with a small, informal group of geyser geeks (or maybe it was 'geyser gazers'?), who gave us the scoop on some cool, off-the-beaten-track geysers.

Next we drove through South Dakota, stopping to hike around the Badlands, and doing a drive-by photo opp of Mt. Rushmore after feeling guilty for paying to get into the Crazy Horse Memorial, which should be renamed, The Vision of One Megalomaniacal White Man and his Greedy Family. A few more hours of boring landscape, interrupted by the Corn Palace and an obsession with South Dakota's free tourist coupon newpaper, and we were in Minnesota. Did you Know...Since 1892, there have been three Corn Palace structures build. The Mitchell founding fathers wanted something to put their town on the map, and there you have it. An average ear of corn has 800 kernels, arranged in 16 rows.

Just south of Minneapolis, we ended up camping in a gorgeous lakeside spot amidst the most mosquitos you can imagine, and waking up in a crazy thunderstorm. Somewhat sleep-deprived, we pushed on to Chicago, which we decided to rename Kimcago, after our friend Kim who not only traveled all the way to Cambodia to visit us, but put us up for a couple of nights, too. We also confirmed the rumors that our friend's little sister Emily opened up her Sweet Cakes Bakery at the site of an old friend's apartment and my quasi- first date with Dennis. Any eerie feelings were quelled with delicious cupcakes.

In more coincidences, we ran into my friend Erica doing a road trip of her own, and did a little stoop-sitting with her one evening. It started to feel like we had really come full circle from almost a year ago when we drove out west to catch our plane to New Zealand and met up with a roadtripping Erica. I'll forever feel like any time I'm driving a distance over 200 miles, I'll end up running into Erica doing the same, and I hope I'm right.

We then got to experience life in a college town and meet a woman named Teapot in Ann Arbor, while hanging with our friend and poet extraordinaire, Sean P. Norton. Summer vacation is a beautiful, beautiful thing. We drove straight from Ann Arbor up to Champlain, NY to visit my family and attend my favorite Fourth of July parade. We also reunited with the cats, who seemed very healthy and content, if a little spoiled, what with their casserole dishes filled with catnip strewn about the house. (Why, Mom, why?)

We moved in temporarily with our friend, Brooklyn resident and painter extraordinaire, Matt, who kindly guided us through the process of looking for an apartment in New York. After meeting dozens of brokers and seeing about 25 apartments, we finally put our money down on one in the Flatbush/ Ditmas Park neighborhood of Brooklyn. While waiting for the place to get repainted and coated in varnish, we went down to DC to hang out with friends.

After having lived in DC for eight years, it was strange being back, but not really being home. Of course, we had to cruise by our old house to see if anything had changed, but it looked exactly the same, down to the same half-dying plants in the back yard and the same patch of peeling paint above the front door. We indulged ourselves with going out to eat at some of our old favorite restaurants, and we got to meet the new-ish babies of our friends Allison and Jean. Before we knew it, it was time to load up our stuff in storage into the back of a U-haul truck and move. And despite it being one of the easiest moves ever (thanks especially to DC folks who came up to Brooklyn to help us move), we still found ourselves missing the days when everything we owned fit into a backpack.

-K

Back in the U.S. of A., or Driving on 5

OK, we've officially been back in the U.S. of A. for two weeks, but with all the catching up with family, friends, laundry, and filing our late taxes, we've been a bit blog-negligent. Being back has been both strange and wonderful. For one, we have a plan for the whole next couple of weeks, and we've gotten to see family and friends on the west coast that we haven't seen for a while, as well as some friends that helped see us off on the trip about nine months ago. I should mention that a couple of friends are mere days/weeks away from having babies, which could only mean that Dennis and I possess some kind of shamanistic ability to help people conceive (a marketable job skill?).  It's also been a little strange but wonderful to be able to have great, long conversations (in English!) which hadn't happened often enough around the world. 

Our first real efforts at repatriation were going to Costco, and then buying a minivan that we could drive to visit said friends and get us and our stuff back to the east coast. Yes, not only are we bloggers, but we own a minivan. It has tinted windows, and we fluctuate between thinking this makes it even less cool or possibly more cool. At any rate, it's a mode of transportation and it runs equally well in the Town and in the Country. 

After staying with Ma and Pa Campbell for a few days, we headed to Seattle to visit Ben, Emi, and their charming 4 3/4-year-old daughter, Azi. After hitting the sites and a farmer's market (hello again, delicious west coast food), we headed down I-5 to visit Matt in Olympia, who took us sailing on Puget Sound. We arrived just in time, because the next day the boat was being sold. We got to enjoy a sunset cruise and spot lots of seals along the way. God speed, Spackle. We hit Interstate 5 again down to Portland to visit John, Jenn, and brand new Portland resident, Phil.  We relaxed and ate more delicious homemade food, including tacos, which we try to eat at least once a day now. Good luck with the 'birth plan' guys! Our last stop on the whirlwind tour of the I-5 was Eugene, where we saw Craig and Deb (good luck with your 'birth plan' guys), and Eric and Stephanie. After more great conversation and homemade food, including our second rhubarb pie, we had to head back to Camp Campbell to prepare for the longer drives ahead. And even though we've been kept pretty busy, it's easy to remember why we missed home.

-K 

Santiago, Thrice is Nice

It´s sorta hard to write an entry on Santiago the city, partly because Santiago always stood for something else. It was the place we had to go to get to Easter Island and Valparaiso, it was where we came back to, and ultimately it is the city which we fly back to the States from. As a result, Santiago is a place full of anxiety, anticipation and sadness.

But as a city, it has treated us remarkably well. The lesson that we were taught throughout the trip is that cities rise and fall in our estimation based upon the quality/availability of food and the lodgings we stay in. In Santiago, there were a few good veggie options (plus more bad pizza, sadly), but the hospedaje that we stayed in made us love the city. Located in the heart of downtown, the Green House is run by a family that seems to revel in going out of their way to help travellers. Each time we left, they kept luggage for us, did laundry and each time we came back they helped orient us to the city and tell us how to find places to eat. Nice way to end a trip that has included a full range of places.

The city itself is somewhat lacking in charm--being as it is a business capital. There are a few wonderful plazas to walk through, a smattering of cathedrals and parks, some very strange sand art by hundreds of young Catholic children, but it somehow lacks the energy of our favorite stops. As I said, Santiago just stands for so many other things for us. And while we are tired, and while Santiago didn´t fully charm us, we would love for Santiago to be the place where some kind patron gave us a boatload of money to keep travelling.


-d

Valparaiso (I´m Well Aquainted with the Works of Pablo Neruda)

Desperation has set in as the international leg of our trip is now hours from being over. With that anxiety in mind, we decided to squeeze one more city onto the itinerary. Valparaiso is a seaside town with rolling hills hugging the port. The hills are covered with all forms of brightly colored, dilapidated structures made from combinations of corrugated metal and stone. The fact that the city experiences quite a bit of earthquakes combined with the, admittedly beautiful, slapdash structures gave an element of danger to our visit.

The problem for Kristi and me is that in the entire 9 months we have been out of North America, we have had exactly 10 days of bad weather. We have grown soft. Very soft. We spent two days, hiking up and down the hills of Valparaiso getting drenched by a fog\rain that made Eugene, Oregon in winter look like Phoenix. So, while the UENESCO World Heritage parts of the city are wonderful, we may, just may, have prayed to find an indoor mall. We also found ourselves relying a bit much on the turn-of-the-century ´ascensors´, rickety wooden box-style funiculars that scale some of the steepest hills for a modest fee, thus adding another element of danger to our visit.

The highlight of our stay was our visit to the poet Pablo Neruda´s (less famous) house. The house is constructed with a panoramic view of the city and is itself an amalgam of the city. Portholes from ships line the stairwell, salvaged stained glass, custom designed fireplaces, model ships, and a study that groans like a ship at sea when the wind blows all come together with a strange unity. There is even a small ¨heliport¨on top of the home for future travels to the stars. Poets think of everything.

-d

Easter Island/ Isla de Pascua/ Rapa Nui/ Fantasy Island

Ah, Easter Island. The mystery, the allure, the end-of-the-world tiki-ness of the place. When we stepped off the plane onto the narrow airstrip surrounded by palm trees and stone sculptures, with a host of lei-bearing residents waiting for us in the tiniest airport ever, it felt a bit like Fantasy Island. It seemed it couldn´t be possible that we were actually there, despite the 6 hour flight from Santiago. But seeing no man dressed in a white suit, we chose to believe it and felt extra lucky that this remote destination was a possibility on our round-the-world ticket, since the cost of getting here from DC would be twice as much as what we spent on our 20-stop ticket.

After choosing a place to stay from one of the people that show up at the airport with rooms to rent, we settled in and explored the major town on the island, Hanga Roa. As this task only took about 15 minutes, we spent the rest of the day relaxing, looking at some of the moai (big tiki guys), cooking up some dinner, and watching the sun set.

Rapa Nui turned out to be the ideal stop for us as we were winding down the trip. We went on plenty of fun day trips filled with looking at ruins, learning about the anthropology of the island (I won´t spoil the mystery and allure by divulging what we learned here), going to the beach, scrambling around the craggy volcanic coastline, and plain hiking around. We also spent a good amount of time relaxing around our little apartment, playing backgammon, and discussing how long we could stay on this 12-km-long island without getting bored. We settled on 2-3 months on our current budget and 5 months on a bigger budget. Did I mention that the island is jam-packed with wild ponies?

-k

Don´t Cry For Me Argentina

So Mendoza is the last stop for us in Argentina, and as a result we have decided to get that Evita song in your head. You are most welcome. As a town, Mendoza is a more affluent, more touristy version of Cordoba. The main attractions all center around the looming Andes mountains. But, because we are cheap bastards and cheap bastard serendipity is on our side, we showed up in the very small sliver of low season. Too early for skiing. To late for rafting, skydiving, zip-lining, fly fishing, full contact parasailing, or whatever else the kids are into these days.

But the slight chill in the air did not stop us from doing the tourist thing. We decided on a whim to do a bit of rafting despite the river not being at its full awesome level. Off-season made it affordable and the fact that all of the companies that offer rafting were around the corner from our fabulous hotel made it an easy decision. So I have been rafting a few times but it was Kristi´s first go. The fact that the rapids were basically a class lower than normal meant that we would not be doing the crazy-dangerous stuff, but it would still be a fun intro.

So early one morning, we woke to find our goggle-wearing guide Jose standing in front our hotel waiting for us. Apart from being a wonderfully dopey guide, Jose sported a look that seems a bit too common in the southern hemisphere. It combines the worst of the mullet with the worst of the white-guy-dreadlocks. Not good on anyone. After a drive through the slopes of the Andes and a brief hauling of the raft down to the river, we were off.

Jose quickly made up for the diminished rapids by forcing our boat of five people to stand on the edge of the raft while going down some small riffles, making us nose the boat underwater and fill it right before we hit a rock, try over and over again to get me soaked while keeping Kristi miraculously dry. Apart from the cold, rafting was absolutely great.

The rest of the time in Mendoza we spent enjoying the region´s abundant and cheap wine (for those wishing to win a free something-or-other, count the number of times we have used the word ¨cheap¨on our website, and if you get it right, you will receive the whatsit), playing some backgammon, checking out craft fairs and shopping for a lasso. Only two people will understand why, the rest of you can just live with the possibility that K and I are rustling some ´pacas down in Chile right about now...

Farewell, Argentina and happy independence day! Vaminos Chile!

-d

Cordoba, Thanks for the Hippies

Perhaps it is the fact that our trip is 17 days from finishing, but we are both starting to tie up our experiences and connect everything we see to something we saw earlier. To wit, Cordoba reminded me of Nelson, New Zealand. Both towns are full of younger folks, with quite a bit of hippie influnce. The difference is that Cordoba is bigger and not filled with Kiwis. But, after days of bad pizzas, the presence of hippies meant that vegetarian food was to be available. One of the happiest days we´ve had on the trip was eating at a vegetarian restaurant which was the best place we have eaten all trip and knowing that there was no ham or beef in any of it. Much like getting to the top of Kili, I almost wept.

Anyhoo, the town itself has a rather compact central area with loads of pedestrian streets crowded with people at all hours. Spending a few days just roaming around with no have-to-dos was quite nice. Cordoba, the original capitol, has a 400 year history of Jesuit influence resulting in a load of old churches in various stateds of disrepair. Plus, nuns aplenty roaming about. But, to balance the religious with the earthly, Cordoba also boasts the most undergarments stores with giant billboards of ladies and gents in various states of undressedness. Sin and salvation, I tell ye.

On the subject of sin and redemption...okay, I have no real segue. In any case, the other main drama concerned our accommodation. The reviews of our particular residencia mentioned that the woman that ran the place was a bit cantankerous. Upon first meeting her, it seemed to be the case. But that only made us want to chat with her more. What made her tick? And what made that ticking sound like a time-bomb? All we can say is that with a little perserverance, we were able to have a few conversations that went well. She ran hot and cold, but there was no clear reason. So having to fill in the gaps, here is what K and I decided: She was a flamenco star, and met the man who was to become her husband. They danced together, got married. Then, he screwed up (maybe in some sort of competition, say) and she has been living on anger and regret ever since. Now it may sound like a movie, maybe even one that came out about a decade ago, but we are pretty sure it's probably, could be, might be right. Right?

-d

Iguazu Falls Spectacular

OK, before actually describing the falls themselves, I have to say a word about how we got there. From Buenos Aires, it´s a 21 hour bus ride up to northeastern Argentina, where the falls border Brasil, with Paraguay not too far off. While we were initially dreading the long overnight bus trip, we had heard good reports of the buses in Argentina, so we never thought about cancelling the long-haul trip. The bus definitely exceeded all expectations and was not only better than every other bus we´ve taken, but better than many of the hotels we´ve slept in along this trip. Picture, if you will, being greeted at your seat with your choice of hard candy and whiskey or chocolate liquer, then reclining in a huge cushy seat with foot rest, pillow, and blanket in order to watch movies and eat dinner, then drift into sleep. Ahhh.

After dragging Dennis off of the bus, we swore we would take at least two more overnight buses in Argentina, which happens to work out really well for our tight schedule here.

Of course, the main attraction, Iguazu Falls, was amazing. We woke up early and spent an entire day walking the trails to catch the many different views of the falls. It was really wonderful experience because the falls are enormous and surrounded by dense forest and many smaller waterfalls, so we got to see a lot of birds, including the flocks of sparrows that dive through the falls to their nests, and the cute, popular, and trash-eating coati mundis. Sadly, we didn´t encounter any jaguars or capybaras while wandering through the forest. Many of the walking paths are elevated over sections of the river, so we also saw a lot of giant fish in the shallows and a crocodile that seemed content staying perfectly still for nearly an hour.

The park isn´t all about pristine nature, however. It has a few free amenities, like a narrow-gauge railway that runs through the park. We also took a small boat to an island downstream from the falls and in the middle of the river, which had some nice views of the falls and a beach where a few brave folks were swimming. We decided to stay dry, and because we were here in Autumn when the water volume isn´t super high, we mostly succeeded.

After a pretty exhasting but energizing day (go negative ions!), we headed back to the cute tourist town of Puerto Iguazu to eat some more pizza (sigh). I could imagine staying here for several days to just relax, see the falls some more (maybe even from the Brazilian side if visas weren´t an issue), or try some of the rafting and hiking available in the huge park. But alas, our plans have us pushing ahead to Cordoba, which is reportedly ¨the second most important city¨in Argentina, and trying our hand at a second overnight bus trip.

-K

Hola, Buenos Aires

So after three relatively cushy weeks in Spain filled with all the cults, cookies, and coffee we could manage, we arrived in Buenos Aires. We got to feel like ¨real¨travellers again by opting to take the two hour public bus from the airport for thirty cents instead of a shuttle or cab for thirty bucks. We arrived at our Diego Maradona-themed hostel room feeling tired from the long overnight flight and pretty self-satified. For those that don´t follow football (soccer), Maradona was one of the greatest players of all time, and is literally revered as a god throughout Argentina (yes, there´s even a church of Maradona). Sadly, he´s not the most romantic of icons, so falling asleep surrounded by posters and paintings of him was a bit discomforting.

One nap later and we were ready to tackle trying to get some vegetarian food, which we heard would be nearly impossible because steak, steak, and more steak is the name of the game in Argentina. What no one told us is that there are more pizza joints per capita than any place we´ve ever been. After some tasty empanadas and pizza, we were sucking in our guts and wandering our new ´hood,´ a laid-back little neighborhood north of the central city which oddly reminded us both of parts of Chicago. After hearing our first ¨car backfiring¨ some hours later, we really felt at home. Nobody´s got the guns like the Americas!

Since we only had a few days in Buenos Aires, we decided to hit the pavement and do some major sightseeing. We went to the excellent Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires and fell in love with a couple of artists we never knew existed. We also wandered through a park silly with cats, two of whom looked just like Maxine and Ruby and were sitting together near an empty bench. After sitting a while and wishing we had bought some food, we moved on look at some of the cool colonial and post-colonial architecture in central B.A.

We spent a day exploring the working class La Boca neighborhood, home, of course, to Maradona and the Boca Juniors football club. Although we were hoping to see a match to experience 80,000 crazed and caged-in fans, they weren´t playing a league match while we were there. Instead, we checked out the local artists and colorfully-painted metal homes that lie near the harbor. We also enjoyed the Museo de Bellas Artes de La Boca, housed in the old studio and home of painter Benito Quinquela Martin, with great views of the harbor and the city. On the way back, we stopped in at a sidewalk cafe to have a beer with an enormous, life-sized (?) Homer Simpson and listen to tango music. Strangely, the only things more popular in B.A. than Homer Simpson are the colors blue and yellow. What´s not to love?

-K

Vale Vale Madrid!

It may be unfair to compare any city to the likes of Barcelona and Istanbul, but sadly Madrid was put in that position. And while it didn´t measure up to some of the other cities that we have visited, the city does have its charms. First off, Madrid is more of a business center it would seem than other cities. The effect is that there are large portions of the city that seem deserted during the day and other parts of the city that seem to be tourist theme parks. Of the tourist haunts, we dug The Prado, the Museum of Ham, and the huge park with a statue of Lucifer that is across the street. A full day was spent looking at paintings and watching ducks and turtles cavort. Sure beats working.

Perhaps the best thing about the first time that we were in Madrid was the neighborhood of our hotel. Sandwiched between the tourist section and what people in Madrid consider the ¨seedy¨part of town, our hotel was along a street filled with record store and silly goth clubs. Funny seeing a bunch of morose, black-clad kids shopping day and night.

Our second time through the city, we made the mistake of believing that cheap hotels would be a dime a dozen. At the start of the high season. On a weekend. As you might suspect from my poor grammer, that was not the case. After hours of searching, we were forced to treat ourselves to a 4 star hotel. I promise it was the cheapest available. For the first time in months, the chance of getting the tell-tale line of bedbug bites seemed only a distant possibility. This might explain why both K and I slept for twelve hours the first night.

The next two days, we got to hang out with my old college friend and roommate Andrew and his wife Anna and two cute kids. Doubt their cuteness? Check Flickr. After wandering around their neighborhood, failing to get a glass of blessed water a couple of days before a saint´s festival and being treated to the best tortilla in the world (thanks to Anna´s mother), we turned in at our hotel. Did I mention that we liked our hotel?

The following day, we prepared for our 13 hour overnight flight by wandering the Madrid streets and meeting up with Andrew, Anna and the kids for the ultimate Madrid treat: Churros and Chocolate. For those not in the know, Churros are a fried pastry that you can, and should, dip into the thick chocalate syrup that often comes with it. Being blessed by local chaperones, we were able to sample the delicacies at the preeminant location in Madrid. It´s good to have friends all over the world...

Sadly, we had to bid goodbye to the brood and head for the airport. Stay tuned for all of the (the next part of this sentence is dripping with sarcasm) wonderful experiences that Iberian Airlines added to our trip. Jackasses!

-d

Barca! Barca! Barca!

We left Quentar knowing that all was well with Citi Riti and Efendi and that our friend Sean was meeting us in Barcelona the next day. After a short flight on the hippest airline (Vueling) we have ever seen, and a short metro to the Gothic quarter we moved into the first hostel of our stay. The hostel was perfectly located in the middle of many of the main sights and was housed in a fantastic old Gothic building. The downside? The room which was to house Kristi, Sean and I had just enough room to pull off the feat. The placing of a third mattress in the room effectively rendered such features as the door and window inoperable. No big deal, who needs to open the door?

Sean was due the day after we arrived, so we spent the afternoon getting to know our hood and, for me, remembering why Barcelona is one of my favorite cities. It has all of their architectural highlights, museums and people that make a city enjoyable. Plus, it is the home of my ultimate comfort food: the tortilla bocadilla. Apart from being an annoyingly fun rhyme, the combination of a potato and egg omelet and a baguette is unhealthy heaven.

Day two we set out to meet Sean at the metro station and get on with walking the city streets. Mistake one, we did not write down which metro stop it was. Mistake two, we only staked out one of the two closest metros. The upstart was that we stood on Las Ramblas for two hours while a jet lagged Sean stood at Jaume One for two hours. Not an auspicious beginning. After collecting him and apologizing profusely, we set off for a wander around Guell Park, one of the many Gaudi imprinted landmarks that dot the city. Apart from affording a panoramic view of the city, the terraced park is replete with the amorphous shapes and intricate mosaics that make Gaudi´s architecture so recognizable. Caves are turned into strange cathedrals and benches are turned to psychedelic tile canvases. Perhaps a good way to introduce Sean, who hadn´t slept in 40-odd hours to Barcelona.

The next few days flew by in an enjoyable slew of sights, funny conversations, an unfortunate allergic reaction for Sean and a punishing cold for me. After a few days we moved to our new hostel that lacked the ambiance of the first place but had the advantage of beds that allowed us to move about. Plus free mints! Highlights of the next few days included wandering for hours through side streets looking for food, going to Sagrada Familia, seeing some mediocre flamenco dinner theatre and not seeing some wierd fusion flamenco at an upscale bar, being called a little girl by a drunk Spanish/Greek/Italian kid when I refused to take part in a game of footie, having drinks at a bar called the Manchester that played an upbeat combo of The Smiths and Joy Division, and spending a few hours staring at the Mediterranean.

After a few days, we sadly had to bid Sean adieu and soldier on without him. The combination of my cold and the utter joy of Barcelona led us to change our plans. Rather than hop yet another bus to Bilbao and feel like we were moving too fast, we decided to wander the city some more. After a morning of recovering and Kristi going to the Picasso museum, we decided to make a pilgrimage to Montserrat. Montserrat is a 19th Century monastery on a set of hills on the outskirts of Barcelona. The hills are a wonderful combination of sandstone forms and dense forest that allowed us to hike around for a few hours prior to visiting the monastery proper. Atop one of the hills sits a small chapel and about 500 meters away a hermit´s hut. Perhaps a well paved and traveled path isn´t the best place for a hermit to construct their hut, but who am I to say?

We finished off the day by visiting the basilica that is the spiritual home of the Catalan people (as well as supporters of Barcelona Football club). Seeing the Catalan flag flying over the basilica and the names of many civil war veterans (sweet anarchists) was quite cool. The church itself is a massive structure with soaring stained glass. Perhaps the highlight of the space is the Black Virgin that looks out over the alter. A short climb up the back stairs brought us to the Virgin where many people were praying while touching the globe in Mary´s hand. Do I sense some paganism? Hmm. Finally, we took a brief detour to see a small room where people have left all sorts of objects related to the miracles that the Virgin has visited upon them. Everything from beat up motorcycle helmets, baby pictures, wedding dresses and packs of (empty) cigarettes are piled along the walls of the alcove.

After a week in Barcelona, it was hard to say goodbye to a city that rivals only Tokyo in the Sophisticated Alpaca´s heart. But Madrid, and South America are calling. Until next time...

-d

Village Life, Quentar Style

So we left Sevilla for Granada with a heavy heart knowing that we were leaving new friends and the most amazing homemade bread we have ever had. But Granada and the Alhambra were waiting for us. We decided to try our hand at some more couchsurfing--this time with a group of people in the small village of Quentar, in the hills outside of Granada. After waiting for the bus that leaves on a limited schedule on Sundays for Quentar, we arrived and were greeted by our host, Axel. We were quickly ushered back to town for some tea, cake, and falafel with the leader of the group, Efendi. It was a nice caffeine and sugar-fueled introduction to Granada, as well as the spiritual beliefs of the mostly German and Latin American community that was hosting us. For one, they hold a reverence for Brian Adams that even I never would have dreamed of as twelve year old feverishly requesting his latest songs on the local radio station. They also practice some Sufism, but unfortunately we weren't there on the right day to see the whirling dervish-in-training whirl.

The next day, we learned that Axel and Merwa´s dog, Citiriti, had been found trapped in a crevice on the side of the mountain. He had been missing for 5 days and assumed stolen, but some children heard him howling and the local firefighters were mounting an expedition to free him. We got to accompany Merwa to retrieve the emaciated but incredibly happy hound, who´s now the heroic subject of much local gossip. Welcome home, Citi and thanks for accompanying us on our own hike in the mountains! We also got to practice speaking Spanish a lot during our stay, which was really fun and easy thanks to the lovely and more recognizable Latin American accent.

Besides experiencing life in Quentar, we spent a lot of time in Granada, wandering around the historic Muslim quarter of town and visiting the Alhambra, an enormous and well-restored fortress/ palace/ village/ garden complex that contains some great examples of Islamic and medieval Christian architecture. The highlight of the Alhambra is most definitely the 14th century Palacio Nazaries, with its intricate geometric tiles and carvings on nearly every surface that somehow manage an over-the-top and understated beauty all at the same time.

But after a few laid-back days, it was time to leave Andalusia and move on to big city Barcelona and a rendezvous with our friend, Sean.

-K

España? Claro Que Si!

Sevilla was our first stop outside of Madrid in Spain and the first place I had seen before as an adult. At age 19, my friend Phil and I visited and did as much as my limited funds allowed. In the intervening 15 years, the city has evolved quite a bit. Some of the rough edges that used to be in the city center have been smoothed out making it a nicer city to walk around. But I did miss a bit of the grit that I remembered.

But what made the Sevilla trip this time so magical was the wonderful family that we stayed with. Thanks to couchsurfing, we were able to meet Anna, Juan, Linus, Leon, and Micio the cat (redundant if you speak Italian), and get to experience life in a Sevilla neighborhood. We had a great time doing simple things like going out to dinner and a movie, spending an afternoon in a park, and cooking dinner (our Thai cooking class skills were tested and I believe we only marginally passed, though I blame it on the fact that we didn´t start cooking until 11 pm!) We even had a good time doing the dishes and other really routine things that made us feel like real, non-traveling people again. Very homey and wonderful. We also got to see our first, and most likely not our last, flamenco performance, which was really fun.






I guess I would be remiss if I didn´t mention another reason that Sevilla is a wonderful and enjoyable city: the public bikes. Not to get too "I used to work at a transportation engineering firm" on y´all, but Sevilla recently put in a very good network of bike lanes and public bike rental terminals throughout the city. This basically makes the city really liveable and pleasant to get around, and not very polluted.

Another great thing about Spain is that with merely one year of highschool Spanish skills, we´re feeling wildly successful with our communications. Not having to think hard about how to say "hello, thank you, goodbye, and numbers 1-10" has freed up a tremendous amount of mental space. Sad, but true. Then again, in our first all-Spanish conversation at the first restaurant we went to, I did end up eating a hamburger by accident. Apparently, I still have something to learn...



(I began this entry and Kristi took over and tried to sound like me. She says I´m a hack and she can mimic me. What do I have to live for? Another poll?)


-d (sorta)

Bully for Istanbul

Istanbul is an amazing, dynamic city and staying here twice was a great way to bookend our time in Turkey. As an ancient city, there's no shortage of historical sites to visit, as well as just interesting buildings to admire as you're walking around. It's also got a very east-meets-west feel, so one moment you can be haggling over the price of some oranges in the market or watching old men fish from a bridge, and the next, you can walk into an air-conditioned western-style grocery store or buy some semi-automatic pistols at the metro station (only $75 Euros!). But somehow, it all seems to fit together seamlessly, and by the time we left, we felt quite at home and even had our regular haunts like a corner pide restaurant and an internet cafe.

Some definite highlights of Istanbul were:

• Visiting the Aya Sofia, a gorgeous Byzantine church/ mosque/ museum built around 500 AD;
• Visiting the enormous and beautiful Blue Mosque;
• Taking a day trip on a ferry up the Bosphorous Straight to the Black Sea;
• Walking (or shoving our way through on a Saturday) the narrow alleys of the Spice Bazaar;
• Playing backgammon in tulip-filled Gulhare Park;
• Trying to befriend the omnipresent street cats;
• Finding a vegetarian restaurant;
• Finding a dilapidated building in a maze of alleyways that seemed to house all the H & M clothing that Turkey doesn't export (all for $2, of course); and
• Having absurd conversations with super friendly and funny shop keepers.

Perhaps the only "low-light" of Istanbul was Dennis' new facial hair. Since this is the last day for voting, I suppose the people have spoken and in your own misguided, fence-sitting way decided that the "Neville" shall continue. Disappointed.

-k

This is Turkey

The answer to all questions about what is allowable here seems to be "This is Turkey." So in the spirit of the country and because of the people's love of the hirsute gentleman, I have decided to grow a moustache or 'stache if you prefer. It is currently at the "Gary Neville" phase--that is to say beginning phase. For those not obsessed with soccer, Gary Neville plays for Manchester United, is 34 and seems to have been trying to grow the same moustache for the past decade. So in the spirit of such questions as "is a fanny pack an okay fashion accessory," we will open this up to a poll.

So far, I have become obsessed with this country's version of tea and their love of backgammon. So, for me it is all about embracing the culture. Kristi, on the other hand, seems afraid of the new look. You decide. I will keep the 'stache until the public cries out for mercy (or doesn't) The poll will close on April 26 so vote early and often.

Goreme: People Say a lot of Things

From the land of fire and ruins we moved on to the strange land of Goreme in the center of Turkey. One long overnight bus trip is perhaps the only way to truly get the effect of the overall region of Cappadocia (Land of Beautiful Horses). As the sun came up, a valley of strange rock formations spread out across the landscape. The formations are similar to Bryce National park in Utah with one notable exception, they are full of caves. Thousands of small openings dot the hills with even smaller hollowed-out nooks for pigeon houses. It seems that pidgeons were a sort of second currency in the valley and the usefulness of their droppings as fertilizer and their eggs as the base for paint conferred on the owner's wealth.

What initially seems quite strange became downright surreal when we checked into our cave that morning. You read that right, to add to the strange places that we have slept on our trip, we now have a cave. A well appointed cave, mind you, with a full bathroom and all. Once we settled in and stopped giggling (no sleep + cave = giddiness) we set out for the open air museum for a primer on the area. While the open air museum does cost money, it is by far the best place to see frescoes that adorn a staggering number of the cave. In addition to dwellings, over the past thousand years settlers hollowed our grand cathedrals and adorned them with beautiful, if slightly crude at times, paintings depicting scenes from the New Testament. The location of Cappadocia along the Silk Road has meant that it has not had the smoothest history. Numerous invaders and new settlers have come to the area including Arab settlers who, during the Iconoclastic age, set about removing many of the frescoes. Seeing those that remained gave us a taste of what the numerous caves we would see in the next few days might have looked like.

The next day we joined a group and toured an eight floor underground city with secret tunnels linking similar caves up to 8 kilometers away. Trying to imagine life underground for weeks at a time while battles waged above ground was quite interesting. The rest of the day we explored the largest cave cathedral in the valley, did a short hike and finally went to a Onyx factory to see local artisans shaping Onyx. Here comes the thing I am second most proud of (after summiting Kilimanjaro) on this trip. As our group watched the shaping of the stones, the gentleman giving the tour said that the first to answer his next question would get to keep the stoneworker's resulting onyx egg. This was my moment to shine. Before he had quite finished asking what the meaning of Cappadocia was, I blurted out "Land of Beautiful Horses" and scooped the prize. Don't ever let Kristi tell you that I never get her anything pretty.

We spent our final day before our night bus back to Istanbul hiking through the amazing valleys. While there are always signs letting people know where a trail begins, once you start you are often on your own. A few times we walked along what appeared to be the correct trail only for it to dead end at a sheer cliff. But at the moment we were the most lost, we met up with two older shepherds who have the best racket in all of Turkey. After speaking with them for a few minutes, one offered to show us the way out. After a protracted walk that required some deft slides on our backsides down steep ledges, we emerged on the real trail. At this point, our guide let it be known that his services would require a rather hefty payment (mostly to feed his dogs, he said). Seems the best gig in town is to hang out with your buddies in any of the valleys and wait for lost tourists to amble by. But getting out of the valley seemed worth the post-bargained price that we paid to him.

And, as for the title of the entry... It seems that due to the similarities of the scenery to Luke Skywalker's home planet from the first Star Wars movie, there are many rumors that the film was shot in Goreme. Rather than dispell the rumors, our hotel guidebook just said "people say a lot of things." We both loved the vaguaries of that statement and chose to believe what a lot of people say...

-d

Chimaera: Is This Burning and Eternal Flame?

What's part lion, part goat, part dragon, and all fire? If you answered Chimaera, you'd be right. A short walk from Olympos is the mythical mountain of eternal flames. No really. After a late night, 7 km hike that began at 9 pm along a beach, "crossing" a river, walking through a village alongside a mountain, and arriving at a makeshift ticket stand manned by one man and one rabid German Shepperd, we arrived at a small mountain with eternal flames.

Though "scientists" don't quite "know" why flames spontaneously burst out of the volcanic rock here (wha?), it might involve some methane gas, and anyway, it's truly an amazing site. As you walk up the hill, flames of all sizes seem to creep out of the crevices in the rocks, some quite large and worthy of cooking salami over, or so we're told. We had a great time climbing around the rocks with our headlamps and checking out the fires. We also heard a lot of owls (sorta creepy), so after drying Dennis' socks and shoes, we left.

Which brings up our escapade-like walk to the mountain. While mostly uneventful (some dogs barking, the strong smell of lemon trees, pitch black part of the way), we had decided to try to cross the 3 meter wide river that flows into the Mediterranean by jumping over it. What makes a man believe he can do something he wasn't capable of 20 years ago? I'm not sure, but in this case, no alcohol was involved! On the way back, we had the good sense to take off our shoes and socks, hike up our pants, and brave the cold water. We arrived back at the tree house at 1:30 am--tired, but dry.

-k & d

Olympos

So we spent two lovely days in Istanbul, but because we'll return there before leaving Turkey, we'll give a recount a little later on. Our second stop in Turkey was in the small village of Olympos, on the southern Mediterranean coast. It may seem strange that we need a vacation after what's essentially a year long vacation, but every once in a while you need a destination that's purely about R+R. Olympos' chief draw, aside from a beach and the opportunity to sleep in a tree house, is a series of ancient ruins, connected by short hikes through beautiful mountainous countryside and groves of olive, lemon and orange trees.

We spent our first two days exploring the overgrown ruins--mostly dating from 2nd centruy BC to 3rd century AD--marvelling at the necropolis and mosaics, walking along aqueducts, hiking up to castles overlooking the sea, and stumbling across a theatre in the middle of the woods that still had some decent acoustics. The city fell into decline in the 3rd century AD because of pirates. Aaarg. But I guess we should thank the pirates for leaving such an idyllic vacation spot and some ruins behind. Visiting in the off-season meant that we had the place mostly to ourselves, but also that we (Kristi) only swam in the cold cold Mediterranean Sea for about two minutes.

We should also thank our friend Dan, who visited Olympos about fifteen years ago and recommended the original Kadir's Tree Houses as a place to stay in Turkey. While Kadir's turned out to be a little too rock n' roll for our country lifestyle, luckily about ten imitators have sprung up in the valley, so we got the relaxing tree house experience we were looking for. Aye matey!

-k & d

London's Burning With Excitement Now

Our original plan was to limit our time in London due to the ridiculously expensive nature of, well, everything, and because I really wasn't expecting to enjoy the city all that much. I'm not sure why I had any kind of aversion to the city. After all, it is the home of West Ham United, the soccer/football team I support. But as it happens, London is quite the happening town. Shocking, I know.

First off, we happened to choose a hotel that was both the nicest place we have stayed and located in the neighborhood that best fit Kristi and me. Being in the East End keeps you from some of the posh-itude that is lost on me, and our temporary neighborhood was like a little slice of Chicago, with a mix of Jamaicans, Lithuanians, Russians and the wild card of the cockney lads speaking in strange rhymed phrases and bedecked in all sorts of New York Yankees paraphernalia. Perhaps the most homey place yet.

Second of all, our friends Dave and Lolo bought us tickets to a soccer match at Fulham (the West Ham match had been switched to the day we were leaving). Fulham, apart from being the club with the most Americans playing, happens to play in one of the last remaining really cool old stadiums, Craven Cottage. The Cottage reminded me of Tiger stadium in its raggedness and the fact that many seats had large beams obstructing parts of the pitch.

To add to the already rich atmosphere, our seats were in the away end that was filled with Sunderland fans crazy enough to travel the length of the country to watch a match that meant next to nothing for them in the overall scheme of the season. What that means is that they are the most hardcore, most boozed up, loudest slice of fans you can find. For reasons of self- preservation, we chose to be hardcore Sunderland fans for the day (Kristi even wore the colors). And what a good choice that was. We learned all sorts of "colorful" songs where the subject's parentage was questioned, the size of the stadium was compared to a garden shed and all sorts of people were at a disco... Yeah, a disco. Luckily, Sunderland won 1-3 which made the fans even more enjoyable to be around. Plus, despite the worries that the match would be a bit slow due to the nature of what was at stake for the visitors, the opposite was the case. It was end to end action. A true highlight of the trip--we were even on the evening news!

Third, we got to walk around neighborhoods that constantly reminded us of our favorite bands and had any number of songs popping into our heads. There is something about seeing how places stack up to how you have mythologized them. Let's just say that Bridget Jones sadly has kicked punk rock's buttocks something fierce!

Finally, museums, great supermarkets, no touts, no language to learn, drinkable water. Very strange, indeed. Oh, and the great (?) East End humor (see photo above taken outside of West Ham's stadium). If anyone can explain what this sign has to do with laundry, please let us know...(I believe it's time, Kristi believes the answer is a little more socio-political...)

-d

Dar Redux

A bit of rejiggering of the timeline is necessary to pull off this entry. We have been to Dar es Salaam a total of three times in the past month, but we decided out of laziness to wait until the end to write an entry. Pretty sneaky, eh?

In any case, Dar is often spoken about as a haven for pickpockets and a denizen of the unscrupulous. Having spent some time here, we may have gotten lucky, but Dar has been a wonderful place filled with cheap South Indian eats and nice people. It may have helped that a guy we met in Hong Kong hooked us up with his friend James, who picked us up when we got into town and took us around for our first night out, as well as our first taste of the national dish, Ugali. Note to any Tanzanians who are reading this: move to the US and open an Ugali joint. We need it.

We felt really lucky to meet James and friends for an early introduction to Tanzanian culture and politics. Thus we were able to learn the two most versatile greetings in Swahili and accept that we'd spend the next month perfecting the important art of greeting people.

We spent much of our time in Dar winding our ways around the old city and enjoying the tightly packed streets of merchants, mosques and intricate mosaic work that can be seen on the most mundane apartment buildings. Perhaps the most striking element of our time in Dar was our coming to grips with what 'rainy season' actually means. At least twice daily, the skies would open up and turn all of the streets into raging rivers and seemingly spawn hundreds of young men selling umbrellas. As far as touts and street vendors go, umbrellas in the rainy season seems downright sweet. And, so too, Dar. Sweet.

-d

Narrow Streets, Sandy Beaches and Golden Fleeced-Rats

As a reward for making it to the top of Kili, we decided to spend a few days in Zanzibar enjoying Stonetown's streets and the beautiful beaches. The only downside is that Zanzibar is not exactly a haven for hard-bargaining, budget travelers. It is, in fact, a haven for some touts who may or may not be on doctor-approved drug cocktails. The effect is that when you emerge from the ferry into the terminal there are a host of guys with various twitches all representing the "official" tourist board of Zanzibar. They all work for "free" and they all would love to be your guide/hotel-finder. After some cunning duck and weave maneuvers we found a hotel and set out to tour the city.

Stonetown is a a strange labyrinth of narrow streets, crumbling buildings and the most ornate doors we have ever seen. The effect of walking around the old city is that you constantly feel lost and disoriented while simultaneously always finding your way. To add to the atmosphere of the streets there seem to be infinite small Arabic Schools where you can here children practicing their lessons or doing the call to prayer. Without a doubt, Stonetown is our favorite neighborhood so far on our trip. Plus, we were able to end our evening having a seaside drink at the bar named after (I would hope) Zanzibar's favorite son, Freddy Mercury.

As amazing as Stonetown was, the real goal of Zanzibar was to sit idly on the beach and stare at the water. In order to do this we had to by enough food to get by and screw up enough courage to attempt to bargain with the most reticent hoteliers that we had encountered so far. After a fit of haggling and attempting to grasp the concept of price increases for the low season, we settled into a simple room at Kendwa Rocks resort. As advertised, the beach is pristine and the water perfectly warm and clear. Things were looking good with our first afternoon's hammock time.

But, as readers may have come to expect, there is always another shoe waiting to plummet. This time, that shoe came in the form of an extremely large, very real, golden colored rat who crawled into our room through a hole in the ceiling. Luckily, his entrance was less than graceful and I was able to snatch our meager rations from him/her prior to losing our lunch and dinner for the next few days. A small game of chase and the rat left our room. The rest of the night was spent building makeshift traps to keep the rat's buddies from coming back for our carrots and tomatoes.

The next day we moved into the less stuffy, more affordable and seemingly rat-less dorms. The next 3 days became a wonderful muddy blur of hammocks, swimming and getting a bit sunburned. Quite a nice reward and a wonderful way to say farewell to the African leg of our trip. We hated leaving the beach but it was back to Dar es Salaam for 2 days and off to London.

-d

Lushoto, It's Rift-tastic!

After a brief stay in the quieter tourist town of Moshi, K and I decided not to make the immediate dash to the golden sands of Zanzibar and instead to take a quick trip to the small village of Lushoto in the Usambara mountains at the edge of the continental drift. Our Kili climbing compatriot Willa-Lee was on her way in that direction and we decided it sounded too good to turn down.

A bit of backgroun on Lushoto and the mountains... Germans did quite a little number to the region a bit over 100 years ago in an attempt to turn the hills into a combination coffee plantation/hills-are-alive-with-the-sound-of-music-style alipine pasture land. The one problem was that the clay soil didn't really stand up to mass deforestation. So, basically, in a short decade the the entire region had been devistated.

Today there is some small scale farming that supports small villages, but there is a concerted effort to replant some of the endemic trees of the region and return the area in part to it's forested past. For us, this balance between village life and eco-tourist-y hiking opportunities was difficut to resist. Plus, when we arrived, we found a farmhouse with the greatest front porch/kitten combo we have perhaps ever seen.

So over the course of the 2 days, Willa-Lee, Kristi and I ducked the tourist office's (and miscellaneous local children's offers) of guided tours and proceeded to hike the local waterfalls and hills. Our first day bought us to the top of Irente hill and a spectacular view of the Continental Rift Escarpment and the Masai plains stretching out below. Spectacular doesn't begin to describe the view. But, in case the view wasn't enough, we treated ourselves to a picnic lunch at the nearby Irente Farms where we ate some of the best cheese and rye bread we have had in quite some time. Plus, our first taste of a cheese-ish spread called quark. If you are a physics junkie, please insert a particle joke here...

The second day was less successful than the first. The three of us took a wrong turn early and ended up far away from the intended Kisasa Falls. Luckily, an elderly man we asked decided to show us the way. We thought he would point us in the direction and go on his merry way, but instead he began bounding down shortcut trails while we stumbled after him. Following a good hour of accidental guide services, the gentleman pointed the falls out to us and explained, in broken English, that he had to go back and give his wife her lunch. We felt bad to have kept him from his rounds but truly appreciated the fact that he saved us from getting hopelessly lost in the mountains. God speed you agile man, you.

After a lunch of leftover cheeses and bread and a chat with the local "Hello-give-me-money" children's chorus, we ambled back to our porch to while away the afternoon rainstorms. Lushoto was just the out-of-the-way destination we needed after the tourist towns that separated our safari and Kili experience. Plus, with a few extra hikes we felt less guilty about sitting on the beach for 5 days staring at the Indian Ocean.

-d

Just Like Kilimanjaro Rising from the Serengeti, or How We Bumbled our Way to the Roof of Africa

Day 1: After a fitful night of sleep in which I dreamed that our porters were going to be evil, we were picked up by our team and taken to the office where we met our wonderful 11th hour addition to our hiking team, Willa-Lee Reid, a Canadian from Vancouver, by way of Edmonton. After intros and final formalities, we were off to the Machame Gate to start the climb.

One of the problems with researching, waiting and building the expectations for an event is that you start to believe the thumbnail sketch of how the hike will progress. So, when we started, I expected the first day to be a leisurely stroll up a gentle incline-a sort of warm-up for the difficult days. And, while the day did not turn out to be a monster, it was a little steeper than expected. The environment is absolutely stunning on this stage; lush rain forest with hanging moss off of every tree. In keeping with a hike through a rain forest in the beginning of the rainy season, it took only an hour of hiking for the rain to begin.

Day one also also served as an immersion in one of the central experiences of the climb. Hiking Kili is not like any other hike. You don't hike alone, you hike with 100-odd tourists and 600-odd porters/cooks/guides. The effect of this massive entourage going up a mountain is that you loose that intimate "commune with nature" vibe but gain a "we are all in this together" brotherhood vibe.

Day 1 Group: Day one we were joined by a group that would be known by our trio as "the Kathmandu-ians," but officially the Hollander family-Judy, Brian and Jesse. Though Americans living in Kathmandu, the three won the award for most inventive way to meet up for a trip with (if I remember correctly) Judy coming from Goa, Jesse from Laos and Brian from Rwanda. We had a wonderful chat going up the hill comparing all of the omens that seemed to align for our trip-though there was some debate as to the possibility of a full moon being on tap for our summit day. Put simply, Judy was of the opinion that whatever day we were to summit was the day that it would not be a full moon. Our group has to admit that we did razz Judy a bit for her anti-Pollyanna phrasing. But we kept up the optimism, believing the confluence of leaving on St. Paddy's Day, shortly followed by Good Friday, with a full moon thrown in for good measure would keep the gods on our side throughout the hike.

-d

Day 2: After a good night's sleep, and by that I mean the "going to bed by 8 pm in a wet tent to escape even more torrential downpours" variety of good night's sleep, we awoke ready for a solid 6 hour day of hiking. Day two was a bit more difficult of a hike--with much more scrambling up boulders and rocky ledges than day one's stroll through the rainforest. We also saw the terrain change on day 2 from lush rainforest to hardier cactus-like vegetation and the beginning of colorful ever-present mossy boulders.

Although we took our time--"pole pole," or "slowly slowly" in Swahili being the oft-repeated mantra of guides and porters as we made the steady ascent--we started to feel the difference that altitude can make. Even moving slowly, you begin to feel like you're not getting all of the oxygen you need and getting your breathing and heartbeat down to resting levels takes a bit longer than on a usual hike. And "pole pole" roughly rhyms with "Wooly Bully" which can get stuck in your head and drive you a little crazy. As a group, we tried to break up the "Wooly Bully" theme repeatedly, but it kept on coming back! I guess Sean Kingston isn't powerful enough magic...

Day 2 Group: Today we met Steve, a nearly 50 year-old Kiwi who had been planning the Kilimanjaro climb to coincide with his 50th birthday for as long as he could remember. At the end of day two, he was looking sunburned and worse for wear, but determined to make the summit on his birthday. Steve's birthday became another good omen for us all. His trials and tribulations of sharing a tent with a snoring South African who managed to keep not only Steve, but half of the campsite awake on night one, also gave us something to laugh about.

-k

Day 3: Day three was set to be the first of the hard days of the climb with an accent from 3100 to 4600 meters at "Lava Tower" and then back down to 3900 meters for acclimatising. The hike took us through the most varied terrain yet, starting with alpine scrub , passing through a lunar-like landscape up to some austere rock outcroppings and back down into a valley full of the most bizarre giant cacti that I have ever seen. Willa-Lee, Kristi and I were downright cocky after the 6 hours of hiking. While it wasn't an easy hike, we were told that this was going to be one of the hardest days of the 6. We finished without any of the altitude sickness that we were warned about, save for Willa-Lee's occasional headache. (Stay tuned for day five to see the three of us get our come-upance).

Day 3 Group: Okay, of the 100 odd tourists, we really enjoyed all of them. Well, all but a few. Needing an enemy, we (or maybe just me) decided on a group of 8 English university students who failed to say hi to us on a few occasions. Truthfully, they were fine people but I began to develop a somewhat imagined animosity for them. They would pass us in the mornings (often with there guide singing songs and seeming far too assured with the altitude and steepness of the climb) and we would spend the days passing and being passed by them. Stay tuned for day five when I rise above my pettiness and show what a big man I can be...

-d

Day 4: Day four saw the continuation of the lunar landscape and another day of mostly slow and steady climbing over varied terrain. Dennis showed he had the right stuff by scaling rock faces overlooking cliffs with grace and aplomb. Maybe he was delirious from the altitude, but his fear seemed to vanish and he might have even said it was fun! It was also the beginning of the truly slow shuffle uphill that would characterize the ascent day, where even the thought of moving your feet more than a few inches seems impossible. Ah, altitude.

After a stop-over for lunch, it began snowing, and we spent the next 3 hours battling the wind and snow to make it to our cold and rocky campsite at 4600 meters.

Day 4 Group: Today we met Dean, who like Willa-Lea was from Edmonton. Strange coincidence? Shortly after, we met Lindsay--yet another Edmontonian. We began seeing conspiracies and worried about the dissolution of our team, until Willa-Lee introduced a new team name, "BC/ DC," and thus our fear of abandonment and team spirit were restored! Plus, nothing builds team spirit like making an enemy out of a friend, which was easy when we saw that Dean was served a hot lunch instead of our cold boxed lunches! We decided to forgive Dean and since we kept about the same pace, got a chance to chat some more with him on the climb that day.

-k

Day 5: Summit day. So this is the day that seemed romantic in theory but sucks in real life. Essentially, we were supposed to catch a few hours of sleep, awake at 11pm and begin climbing at midnight by moonlight. Trying to sleep was impossible for me. Just the idea of the 4000 odd feet I had to climb in a few hours negated the restful state necessary for sleep. Plus, realizing that the constant rain-sleet-snow-ice-fog-icy rain of the four days had reduced all of my warm gear to various levels of dampness made me a bit panicky for a midnight, sub-zero trek.

But at midnight, sleep or no sleep, we set off for the summit. We all had our headlamps on but soon realized the full moon and the thin altitude combined to make the trail easily visible and quite beautiful. The opening few hours passed in a dream-like haze with the bluish light making it quite easy to stare at the feet of the person in front of me as we went up the trail. The only real memory I have of that stretch was a flurry of thunderstorms below us on the mountain lighting up the sky a freakish yellow orange. We all wondered if being on top of the tallest peak in Africa during a thunderstorm was the smartest thing in the world, but our guide, John, assured us it would be just fine.

All seemed to be going fine until about 3 am when we began the ascent to Stella's point. The hill does not seem to ever end. About half way up, I hit the first real freak-out of the entire trek. Trying to deal with the soaked layers of clothing, I decided (in a rush of supreme misjudgement) that it would be smart to strip off all of my shirts, turn them inside out and put them back on. Remember, it is well below zero, I'm having trouble breathing, and I am now shirtless. After throwing my clothes back on, my hands suddenly start to burn, then really burn, then really really burn then go completely numb in a manner of 10 seconds. I panic. Luckily, John and Richard (our assistant guide) do not panic and proceed to massage my hands and blow into them until I regain feeling. All the while, the two of then spoke in Swahili mentioning the nearest hut. I started to worry for the first time that I wouldn't make the summit. But pig-headedness may be my one saving grace. The idea of writing an entry and saying I was 1000 feet of the summit and had to turn around just pissed me off. So up we continued.

It's hard to exaggerate the absurdly slow pace of the hike to Stella's Point. The three of us were taking 6 inch steps in a shuffle pattern and getting ridiculously winded. After three hours of this shuffling, we got to the final bend and saw our first glimpse of the summit beacon. Here was when Willa-Lee had her first problem of the final day. As she described it, she could see the summit and thought that she was walking towards it but kept finding herself swerving off course.

Kristi, on the other hand recovered from being winded on the major accent and is probably single-handedly responsible for helping me make it to within sight of the summit as I had my second major setback. Seems that at nearly 20,000 feet the limited oxygen can make you hallucinate. And for me that meant small gold rodents darting all around me while I lolled my head like a drunken Stevie Wonder. Kristi, champ that she is, linked my arm and led me onward.

When we got to the final 500 feet, the critters went away and the adrenaline cleared my head. I have to admit with all of the dreaming, planning, frostbite, muscle aches, dampness, expectation and work, the only thing I could do was start blubbering, then laughing, then blubbering.

We stood at the summit for 20 of the coldest and proudest minutes of my life taking in the stunning blue glaciers, the view of all of the mountain and cities stretched out below us and the snaking lights of fellow hikers streaming up the ridge. We had finally made it and watched the sun slowly rise from the roof of Africa.

Group update: It was a full moon, and we loved mentioning it to Judy as we passed the Hollanders on the way down and gave them some encouragement.

Steve made it to the top with everyone we talked to agreeing that they got a little choked up when they saw him near the summit. Happy birthday, man!

The Eight English Students reached the summit 5 minutes after us but, as a big man rising above the petty animosity of small people, I would record in the ranger log that we reached the summit at the same time-6:15 am. Let those English naredowells believe that they can bask in the reflected glory of team BC/DC. But, we will all remember (with all due humility) that we reached the summit at 6:10am, now didn't we?!

Dean seemed to be planning to mug us just short of Stella's point as he stood trail side-unmoving in the shadows. Creepy, or maybe it was just the altitude. He did make it to the top shortly before us, even though he looked like he was about to pass out as we passed him on the trail.

Other friends of BC/DC: Collin, our Irish trekker who had some real problems on day four (headaches and vomiting) rallied and summited right behind us. We were really happy for him.

Adie, the snoring, loud-mouthed South African who shared a tent with Steve (and had a birthday the night before the summit) made it to the top after his guide (who had endured Adie's taunts throughout the hike) relished goading him on for the final kilometer.

The Norwegians, who were quite nice throughout the hike, also made it.

-d

Day 6: I guess it's not surprising that we didn't mention the rest of day 5, because everything after the thrill of the summit seemed to pale. Plus, the days bleed together when you wake up at midnight! It did turn out to be a 12-hour day of hiking, including a three hour straight descent through almost fluffy volcanic ash, which was a pretty thrilling, ski-like experience. We followed that by a one-hour nap and some soup, and then another three-hour descent--this one much less ashy, and much more toe-crushing.

After a well-deserved night of sleep, we set off for our final, day 6 descent. The entire day served as a reverse order review of all the landscapes we had seen. The only difference was that the way up took 5 days, while the downhill took 6 hours. We finished day 6 with a comfortable walk through the rainforest down to the main gate where we received our "diplomas" for reaching Uhuru peak. After a small lunch and bottle of Champaign provided by the company, we went to the nearest hotel for a long awaited shower and and an even longer awaited dry and warm bed for sleeping.

Day 6 Group: We got to say goodbye to the Hollanders and got to continue hanging out with 2/3s of the Edmontonian crew, Dean and Willa-Lee for another day in Moshi. Sadly, we did not see Steve to wish him a happy half-century.

We finally had to say goodbye to our crew, or our "entourage" as we affectionately referred to them. Other than our guide, John, and our assistant guide for summit day, Richard, without whom we literally would not have made it, we were rolling with a crew of 6 porters and our amazing chef, Joachim. It should go without saying that doing a 6 day mountain climb requires a lot of preparation and equipment--and fortunately for us, our entourage took care of all the details and allowed us to just think about the climb one day at a time. We were constantly amazed by how the porters on Kilimanjaro were able to balance heavy loads on their backs, heads, and shoulders, and nearly run past us every day, managing to have camp and meals set up as we hauled ourselves up the mountain. In short, they're the reason that rank amateurs like ourselves were able to succeed on this climb--thanks guys!

-k

Safari: Episode 4

After so many different types of landscapes, from lava fields and deserts to lush rain forests and swampy lakes, to grassy plains, we were shocked at the beauty of the massive caldera. After a 600 meter decent down muddy roads, we emerged into the crater's emerald green landscape. The first thing we noticed was the dense pink line of flamingos that were arrayed along the edge of the lake. The green grasses make it easier to spot wildlife, and it wasn't long before we spotted one of the elusive 'big 5'-- a black rhino. We saw three rhinos that day of only nine that stay in the crater. We saw a solo male lion that was causing some disturbance among the grazing wildebeest and thompson's gazelle. And we saw some sacred ibis and hippos on land, as well as solo male elephants, a phenomenon that only happens in the crater.

We had a hair-raising drive out of the crater trying to beat the worst of the afternoon rains, with lots of sliding along the narrow and recently packed clay roads. Safaris are supposed to be an adventure, right?

On the drive back to Arusha safe and sound, we stopped at the world-famous archaeological site Oldavi, one of the most significant sites for tracing human evolution. Pretty cool. After all the excitement, we decided to rest for a couple of days before part two of our big African adventure--climbing Kilimanjaro. We start the six-day climb tomorrow--wish us luck!

-k & d

Safari: Episode 3

We woke very early in the morning for a drive through the Serengeti. Although we weren't optimistic about seeing many animals because we were north of the great migration, we still saw thousands of grazers. We came across a huge herd of zebra, slowly cuing and winding their way south. We also saw wildebeest (oddly cute), who like to co-mingle with zebras to enhance security. Apparently wildebeest have the good hearing and zebras have the good eyesight in the relationship. We were really excited to see three female lions roaming around the bush in search of some shade. They seemed pretty non-plussed by the vehicles and the tourists snapping photos as they wandered about. Later in the afternoon, we saw a second group of three female lions. We miss our cats.

In late afternoon, we drove out of the Serengeti to the adjacent Ngorogoro Crater conservation area to set up camp on the rim of the crater (technically a caldera). This campsite was overrun with giant stork, who look like creepy old men. It also seemed a favorite spot for elephants and zebras to walk through.

After dinner, we were honor-bound to buy Julius a drink for being the first of us to spot lions that day (of course, we didn't argue his advantage in having the radio where guides are cluing each other in about where the animals are). We drove to a local bar that caters to drivers and rangers and had a beer after a long and dusty day. After a fun conversation about American politics--George W recently paid a visit to Tanzania and every African we've met is really excited about Barak Obama even if they don't really consider him black-- we drove back to camp. This was the impromptu night safari part of the trip where we saw water buffalo really close for the first time (we almost hit one in the road), as well as zebra, giraffe, elephant, and mongoose. Did we mention there are a lot of animals to be seen?

-k & d

Safari: Episode 2

On the second day's drive to the Serengeti, Julius gave us the option of taking the direct route, or the longer route through the great rift valley and past an active volcano and many Masai tribe settlements. We decided on the second route, and to our surprise the active volcano decided to erupt just as we passed it. What was wondrous to us just seemed to disappoint the villagers near the volcano who have lost a lot of grazing land and tourist business because of the volcano. Volcanoes: cool but inconvenient.

Anyhoo, the drive was long but worth it. We arrived at the gate of the Serengeti in late afternoon, and made the slow game drive south to our campsite. Serengeti is the Masai word meaning "endless plains." It's hard to describe how vast and endless the Serengeti seems. With the exception of a few acacia trees, it seems like you can see the curves of the earth at the ends of the tall grasses that surround you. It's perfect grazing land for many antelope. New varieties we saw included grant's gazelle, thompson's gazelle, topi, hartebeast (unofficially the ugliest antelope), waterbuck, and steenbok. We also saw herds of zebra and wildebeast, stragglers in the great migration, which was mostly south of where we were this time of year. We also saw some warthogs--strangely endearing, as well as Julius' favorite animal.

After a long day's drive, we pulled into the campsite, which was the most primitive of all the campsites. Shortly after the sun set, we realized the reason for all the signs warning people not to stray past the camp circle, as we glimpsed jackals and heard lions roaring not far away. Strangely, falling asleep wasn't difficult, but Dennis did hesitate about getting up to pee in the middle of the night.

-k & d

Come on and Safari with Me: Episode 1

We spent two days in the small city of Arusha, dodging people who were desperately trying to sell us safaris, batiks, gems, or whatever else in the low season. In short, Arusha has all the lack of charm of that other tourist town, Siem Reap, but none of the delicious fruit shakes. But rather than focus on the glue sniffers, touts, dusty streets, and other negatives, we should focus on the wonderful four-day safari that we booked in Arusha.

Day 1: We drove from Arusha to Lake Manyara National Park, which is famous for its migratory birds and lions that sleep in trees. When we started the safari, we had no expectation of how many animals we would be able to see, so we were ecstatic when we first saw a troop of baboons. Slowly driving through the park, we soon saw vervet and blue monkeys, impalas, giraffes, and hippos. Our driver and guide, Julius, was really great at spotting animals from a distance and then driving up for a closer look. We got very close to some families of elephants, which was really exciting. We also caught a glimpse of an animal we never knew existed--the dik-dik- the smallest and likely the cutest antelope, which we would see many more times along the safari. Although we're not hugely excited about birds, we saw several beautiful varieties of birds, including many herons. We didn't see any famous but rare lions in the trees, but we did see another rare sight--giraffes laying down. From a distance, they look a lot like Loch Ness/ Lake Champlain monsters.

At the end of the day, we drove back to our campsite (did we mention we did the cheapest camping safari possible?), where our amazing cook, Zacharias, had a great vegetarian meal prepared for us. Though we chose the most budget safari option available, we were continually surprised by the variety and creativity of the food and the general comfort of the camping experience. From what we could gather from other, more expensive tour groups, the only difference between our tour and a 'luxury' camping safari is that they get flutes of champagne as they drive around, which generally makes someone look pretty foolish anyway.

-k & d