East Africa Journal

Cape Town Detour

Wed, 9 Aug 2006 12:45:50 -0400

Originally, way back in February when I bought my BA ticket, the plan had been to go from Dar es Salaam to Cape Town through Malawi, Zambia and Botswana. But that changed as I became more and more interested in Uganda and eventually I settled on going east from Dar to Kampala. Unfortunately, my ticket with BA was unchangeable. It mattered not that I wanted to give them more money to change my African departure point from Cape Town to Kampala, they didn’t want anything to do with it.

Funny how things work out, because Cape Town was amazing. This is the place where if I had more time on this continent, I would spend it here. Think of Vancouver meets Montreal. Vancouver because of the ocean and mountains providing a formidable landscape, Montreal because of the European feel and vibrant atmosphere, but without being in Europe. Of course, Cape Town has its problems. Crime, including violent ones, are a big concern, but from what I observed, and based on chats with other visitors, as long as you take reasonable precautions and avoid common mistakes, you have nothing to worry about. I never once felt unsafe in Cape Town.

Cape Town also faces the huge challenge of dealing with the shanty towns. These communities, which dot Cape Town’s surroundings, consist of families living in row after row of sheds, glued next to each other. From the plane they look like structured communities, with unpaved roads, electricity and street lighting. I’m told the government has tried to make them as liveable as possible until it can solve the problem in the long run. Tours of a community are possible, but I didn’t leave myself enough time for one. Nor was I able to visit Robben Island, the prison where Nelson Mandela and others were imprisoned during the Apartheid.

Cape Town is the kind of place where you could spend your money fast, or stay cheap. Salaries are low here relative to Europe and the Rand has a favourable rate for tourists, so financially, it’s like a cheap Europe. Plus, you have the incredible landscape and a great atmosphere in the trendy part of town.

So what did I do in Cape Town? Firstly, I met a great group of troopers in the Cape Town Backpackers (near trendy part of town), which incidentally is run by some fellow Canucks. From the moment I barged into the dorm at 12:15 am, we all hit it off. A couple of Koreans, a couple of Swedes, an American, a Scott, and later a German. Good red wine (finally!), good cheese, good laughs, good times.

Together we walked...a lot. We explored Cape Town’s famous Long Street, which has a certain New Orleans French Quarters feel to it (I’ve never been, but it looks that way to me). We walked to the waterfront. Some of us visited the Groot Constantia vineyard which has been around since, like, 1685. And we feasted in a traditional African restaurant, all you can eat, with small dishes from across the sub-Sahara.

But all that was just a warm-up for the traditional Cape Town climb of Table Mountain. At 1,000 feet above sea level the mountain sits right in the middle of the city and is a must to visit. It’s also free if you walk it yourself, which was a no-brainer. We reached the summit in a little over two and a half hours, and once there were not disappointed with the views. This really is a beautiful part of the world, and I’m grateful for the friendships I made here. I’m glad BA didn’t want my money.

You can check out photos at Cape Town Album.

And so that’s it for Africa. From Cape Town it was back to London for a 4 day visit before flying to New York, then back to Ottawa.

Nailing the Nile

Sat, 5 Aug 2006 21:57:24 -0400

Before leaving Uganda, and East Africa for that matter, there was one “task” to accomplish: conquering the Nile in a white water raft. After all, how often would I be this close to Grade 5 rapids. I write this now, but I’d been hesitant - that explains leaving it until the end - not for fear, but more a reluctance to tackle this one alone. You know, should I disappear along the river and the guide pays off the other rafters for their silence. “Don’t worry folks” he would say, “His body will never make it to Egypt...the crocs will get him in Ethiopia.“

Of course, it was an amazing experience. Not only were the rapids insane - granted, I’ve never white watered before, so I’m short on comparisons - but the atmosphere was intense, the wildlife inspiring, and workout well needed. I joined a crew of English teachers, all at least 7 years younger than me, but that mattered not. In fact when it came to voting for which passage we wanted to tackle, safe or “tip likely”, I often found I was the only one voting for the more adventurous route. Maybe 7 years from now they’ll realize their mistake.

The day was memorable for two other things. One is the number of locals who turn up on the shore to watch the mzungo tourists panicking as they float in the rapids. The other is the opportunity to swim next to the raft as we drift along this historic river. Here again, I’m pleased to report I was all over it. A couple of years ago I probably would have thought those people were silly and would have sat there in the raft conserving energy. But there I was, doing front and back flips from the raft as the English teachers looked on wondering what the weird bearded Italo-Canadian had smoked. Nothing (this time). In fact the night before had been a late Ange Noir evening (see Kampala Top 5 post), so I was running on about 2 hours sleep. They taunted me by singing cheesy Céline Dion lines (are there non-cheesy ones?). My response, while floating in the Nile, was to sing Def Leppard’s beautiful lyrics “I don’t want to touch you too much baby...‘Cuz making love to you might drive me crazy. Oh...” Yes, they’re from Sheffield. I knew that fact would come in handy one day.

And finally, a funny yet sad note. For our bus ride back to Kampala a Chinese banker climbed aboard (they’re here helping the Ugandans). Like everyone else he was wet, but unlike everyone else he didn’t think to bring a change of clothes. Looks like Uganda’s financial future is in good hands.

Note: I have no photos of rafting the Nile. In fact, the photo above has nothing to do with rafting the Nile. But it was taken on the shore of Lake Victoria, which is the source of the Nile, right? So there’s my link.

Fort Portal: Chimps and Crater Lakes

Wed, 2 Aug 2006 16:41:49 -0400

From south-western Uganda, it was back to Kampala in central Uganda before heading out to Fort Portal in western Uganda. Don’t ask me why I didn’t just go north from south-western Uganda.

My reasons for visiting this part of Uganda? Partially the descriptions I’d been given of tea plantations, forests, hills and crater lakes. Mostly because my friend in Ottawa asked me, and I obliged, to deliver gifts to some children she had befriended in Fort Portal a couple of years ago. It makes sense to keep lugging these gifts around until the end of your trip, right? Gave me a little extra motivation.

After an uneventful trip to Fort Portal, I boda-bodaed my way to Kanyangara to meet my friend’s contact, a wonderful and inspiring young woman named Margaret. She greeted me with a traditional meal and a tour of her on-going project, a co-op craft store where, having just unloaded the gifts for her son, nephews and nieces, I promptly purchased gifts to bring home, necklaces and bracelets made from recycled paper. The perfect souvenir: decorative, and you read the headlines of Uganda’s latest corruption scandal.

Oh, and Margaret gave me some gifts to take back for my friend in Ottawa. What can I say, I aim to please.

Next up was Kibale Forest National Park for a night forest walk, then the following day a chimp walk. I didn’t stay longer because accommodation was in a tent, and well, without a sleeping bag or mattress, there’s only so much damage my body could withstand using my clothing as a makeshift nest.

The night forest walk was cool in concept, but was otherwise uneventful. By that I mean nothing actually happened. We walked for an hour and a half and saw one tiny bush baby - a cross between a monkey and guinea-pig, high in a tree. Not only did my gumption level take a hit, but my neck was killing from spending all that time looking up at branches looking for anything other than moths.

The next morning I joined a large group of overland Spaniards. Overlanding, for those of you unfamiliar with the term, is the act of visiting a country and having every single detail planned and executed for you. Oh, and you’re with the same group of people the whole time. Not for Giacomo. (For the record, these were young, fit people, hence my unsympathetic tone)

Anyways, the chimp walk was wonderful. Once again creatures who look and act like we do. You get the feeling these creatures appreciate you almost as much as you them. The chimps spent the entire hour feeding in a fig tree, occasionally providing a little welcoming shower to some unsuspecting Spaniards. Warning: never stand under a chimp in a tree, or any creature as far as I’m concerned.

One thing I’ll always remember is the screaming they do, telling each other where the food is. These guys were so loud you would think the end of the world was nearing (for some Spaniards it must have seemed that way).

With an “Aurevoir” to the chimps I got the thumb out to hitch a ride on the main road, along with a Frenchman. Thirty minutes later a Toyota Corolla with tinted windows pulled over. “Parfait” said my French friend as we negotiated a price and grabbed our belongings. Then the doors opened, then one person got out, then two, then three, and so on. There we were, nine adults in all looking at this five seater (as recommended by Toyota officials), wondering how this was going to work. I wish I were exaggerating, but the driver loaded and re-loaded us three times before finding the perfect combination to squeeze 5 in the back and four up front. My right kidney even pitched in by shifting a little left to make room for someone’s knee. Every bit helps.

My destination was the Lake Nkuruba Nature Reserve, but my Corolla Cruise only took me part of the way. I was never alone for the 2 hour hike to the reserve. First it was a young boy returning from a shift at a nearby tourist camp. The boy’s family could not afford the school fees (even in public schools families must pay for supplies), so the boy worked half the day at the camp and the other half around the house. I was surprised that he never asked me for a helping hand as I’ve come to expect it when people tell me of their hardship.

After he left me I was joined by about 40 mm of heavy rain. Hurrah! Rain season has started early this year. When the rain finally did stop 10 minutes from my destination, a soaking wet Giacomo was greeted by children returning home from school. Their knowledge of English was both surprising and saddening: “Hello...Give me money.” Nice.

Lake Nkuruba is one of many crater lakes dotting the area, spectacular, tranquil lakes set amid rolling green hills. If you’re wondering how these are formed, don’t look for an answer here. All I know is they are deep and swimmable (I can attest to that), and they look like something Tarzan would go for a swim in. I got a great view of the region and the other crater lakes through a guided hike of the area from Peter of the Reserve.

There was only one other guest staying at the reserve, an Australian volunteering as a teacher at the local school. I kindly requested, as she kindly accepted, that I join her for an afternoon in the classroom. I learned through her that the school has a major attendance problem, by teachers. Their goal was to raise the teacher attendance from 70 to 90%. That would be a goal of not missing more than one day every two weeks. There are many factors contributing to this problem, like low or inconsistent pay, but the biggest seems to be a general under-appreciation of the value of education. Things like working on the farm often override school. I’m not sure I can blame them. That’s just the nature of things here.

My afternoon at the school was spent helping some of the 55 students in the class learn how to draw triangles based on specific angles and dimensions. I helped one student go from not knowing how to insert the pencil into the compass, to drawing perfect triangles. As a thank you for my help my Australian friend told me all sorts of fun stories about venomous snakes who’ve made appearances in huts at the reserve. Gee thanks mate! That night I was understandably a little edgy, so it’s no surprise my heart rate instantly tripled when I turned a corner and was confronted by a strange figure. Fortunately it turned out to be our security guard, armed with the best weapon of them all, a bow and arrow.

Eventually it was time to make my way back to Kampala. I had an appointment with a raft and the Nile...

P.S. As an extra bonus, I’ve included in the Fort Portal Album a photo of an article on marriage advice which appeared in one of Uganda’s major dailies. It might interest you to know the author is a pastor. It kind of touches an important point about why certain things are the way they are here. Just so you know ladies, Giacomo does not agree in any part with the article. It is simply posted here for the purpose of discussion and/or entertainment.

Rwanda Visit

Mon, 31 Jul 2006 11:46:11 -0400

I’ve always been intrigued by Rwanda. It probably has to do with an old encyclopedia my parents had around the house. In one section they displayed each country’s flag, and Rwanda’s caught my eye; a big capital R pasted in the centre, much like the insignia of my beloved Ottawa Rough Riders of the CFL. How wonderful I thought to myself that a country would just slap a big R on their flag, like something Sandra Dee would carry at a Ridell High rally.

Telling people I was headed to Rwanda generated some interesting responses, mostly questions about the country’s security. Fortunately these concerns were groundless. I found Rwanda to be completely safe, and Rwandans to be friendly and hospitable. Not as engaging as Tanzanians or Ugandans, probably related to the lower number of tourists making their way there, possibly related to the events of 12 years ago. I didn’t spend enough time there to determine that.

For this adventure I teamed up with Caroline, an Irish medical student working in East Africa, who had her sights set on visiting gorillas, a treat I already experienced in Uganda. So while Caroline received her gorilla briefing, Giacomo pondered what to do for the morning at the Parc National des Volcans. From the bushes near the briefing post, I heard a familiar Rwandan call, the “Sssstttt”. Cultural Note: Around here this call is often used to get someone’s attention, even though it sounds like something the owner of a pet snake would utter.

Anyway, I followed the snake call to discover a couple of local kids hanging out by the bush fence wanting to chat with me. It was vacation time for their school so naturally a game of football was planned for that morning, which they kindly invited me to join. I chatted a bit, said I’d consider it, then went to get information on nature walks of the area. I returned 5 minutes later to discover the group of 4 has mushroomed to over 20 kids, and word had spread that a mzungo would be joining them for their game. How could I turn down the offer now?

So football with local Rwandan boys it was. I’m happy to report I was the first pick, an honour I haven’t been bestowed since grade 8. What a morning! There’s a certain talent required to play football barefoot on a damp field, dodging cow droppings. And these guys were at 100% for the entire game. One of the kids, Moses, didn’t feel confident enough to play, but he made a great photographer documenting the action. My contribution to the game was a referee’s set of yellow and red booking cards which, don’t ask why, I was lugging with me on this trip. The cards stayed in Rwanda with the boys.

You can check out Moses’ work along with other shots of Rwanda at Rwanda Album.

After the game the kids took my on a village tour, including free Kinyarwanda lessons and a visit of their school. They also cunningly took me to a market stand where low and behold the merchant pulled out a shiny new volleyball. This wasn’t too much of a surprise considering they kept mentioning how their school desperately needed one. I told them I was hungry.

I picked up the scent of a pig sizzling in oil and soon found myself in someone’s backyard negotiating with a man over his pan of boiling oil where a parts of a pig had been deposited. It was agreed: 700 Rwandan Francs (about $1.20) for some meat and rice. He’s pictured in the Rwanda Album.

Eventually the kids led me back to the park gate, but not before I stopped in at the market to buy a volleyball...

Following Parc National des Volcans we headed back to Kigali with a visit to the Genocide Memorial. As can be expected this was a very moving visit. Not only do you get a full account of events leading up to and of the genocide, you’re also presented disturbing images and artifacts of victims. Like the walls covered with photos of victims, many of them children. Like the ragged child size t-shirt with the print “I love Ottawa”, recovered from a child clubbed to death.

Write-ups of certain victims are posted, such as this one for Bernadin Kambanda:
Age: 17
Favourite sport: Football
Favourite drink: Tea
Favourite food: Rice
Character: Clever at school
Cause of death: Killed by machete at Nyamata Church

One thing I hadn’t anticipated was the openly grieving Rwandans next to me as I visited the memorial. This impacted me far more than anything else.

What to say after that....we returned to Uganda and I made my only second visit to a site on this trip: Lake Bunyonyi for some relaxing atmosphere and special chicken rolls. Keep them coming Gawd...

Attitude Adjustment

Mon, 24 Jul 2006 12:36:03 -0400

Have I mentioned how much fun it is meeting people on the road and joining forces for mini trips? From Bwindi Stephanie, Bevin and I hired the local transport magnate (like we had a choice - others have tried to set-up shop but have encountered “technical difficulties”) for 2.5 hour drive south to Kibale. The said magnate loaded Bevin and I into the back of his little pickup truck and off we went, bouncing along the dusty mountain roads. After a while we realized sitting was going to result in some serious ass damage, so we stood for most of the trip getting one the best leg workouts ever. This guy was fast and steady, never locking a tire, always on the edge of the tires’ friction limit.

Beyond Kibale our destination was Lake Bunyonyi for a stay with Gawd (pronounced God) at The Byoona Amagra (Whole Life) Project, a kind of eco-friendly camp site. To get there we chartered a canoe for the 40 minute paddle across the beautiful lake. Gawd and his staff were fantastic and we really appreciated the complementary special chicken rolls, which we savoured taking in the calming views and refreshing air.

This gave me a chance to reflect back on Tanzania and compare that experience to the Uganda I’ve seen so far. Was I a little too hard on the touts and merchants in Tanzania? Probably. After all, without tourism, many of these people have no hope at all. In Uganda, it seems there’s more to the economy than tourism, but Tanzania appears to have put all its efforts, and therefore all its hope, into tourism. And why not; it’s like the Italy of Africa. Tourists will come no matter what. Kili, safaris and Zanzibar will always attract people, the government knows it, and they charge accordingly.

And that explains it all for me and my experiences there; I get turned off by big tourist sites, and that’s all I did when there. My choice, but in my defence, Tanzania’s development is focussed in those areas.

In Uganda there are more small sites, like Ssese and Lake Bunyonyi and the Crater Lakes and more. And that’s much more my style.

I can’t blame those aggressive touts in Tanzania for being desperate. But perhaps they could channel that aggression and effort to their Capital and question where all the tourism and multinational money is going, who it’s building houses for and who it’s buying Mercedes for. Just a suggestion.

P.S. Spent a night in Kibale on the way back to Kampala. It was a Friday night. At about 2:00 am, I was gently awoken by the increasing volume of a chorus of locals jogging through the street, singing loudly, in perfect harmony, peaking as they passed our hotel, then fading away as they disappeared into the darkness. It was surreal and for the first bit I thought I was dreaming it all.

The next morning I asked around. Was it a wedding? A graduation? A send-off for a young man? No, I discovered this was simply local folk celebrating the village of Kibale, a way for them to demonstrate their civic pride. Fantastic. Did western societies ever do this? Like in the 1800s, did something like this ever happen in Canadian cities? Could it be revived? Or do we settle for singing The Rock Anthem at hockey games?

Penetrating the Impenetrable Forest

Thu, 20 Jul 2006 23:55:20 -0400

Bwindi Impenetrable Forest lies right in the most south western corner of Uganda, sharing a border with the Democratic Republic of Congo and very close to Rwanda. It’s also where you can trek mountain gorillas. There are some 350 gorillas in the park, and about 30 of them are habituated to human contact. A permit isn’t cheap at $370, and you’re only allowed one hour of contact with the family, but hey, it sounded pretty cool.

Getting to the park wasn’t all that simple and included a ride in a pick-up truck, which was something I got used to in Uganda. A good change of pace from the crowded stuffy buses. Our trek began with a thorough briefing by our guide before we ventured into the forest escorted by our armed guards, good to have considering there are two typed of gorillas in these parts. In some cases you need to trek for 4 hours before finding gorillas; our group spent 20 minutes. Good thing i packed all that food and water!

The pictures give you a good idea of what we saw, but they can’t describe the feeling. Hairy animals acting human like; petting each other, helping each other out. A family. Hands, fingers, ears, eyes, just like us. Well, maybe more closely resembling a Mediterranean's, but take away all the hair and they’re pretty much human.

Incredible moment as the silverback leader was petting the young ones, toying with them as they vied for his attention, much like a grandfather or father plays with the kids, lying down in front of the Christmas tree after a big meal. Patient, loving.

After the gorilla trek, and still wanting to use up my food and water, Bevin and Stephanie (the Australian brother and sister tandem travelling Africa for 7 months) and I trekked to the top of a nearby mountain for some great views of the park and neighbouring DRC.

Check out the photos in the Bwindi Album.

Ssese Islands

Tue, 18 Jul 2006 21:07:26 -0400

One of the first tasks to accomplish in Kampala was securing a gorilla permit for Bwindi Impenetrable Forest National Park. After some persistent phone calling and using almost all of my charm reserve I was able to secure one (thank you Sarah and Moses of the Ugandan Wildlife Authority), not only for myself, but three more for some new mates, an Aussie brother-sister tandem and an Irish med-student. And no, I didn’t mark them up.

But in between getting the permits and the actual visit for the gorillas I had some time to kill. So having made a new English friend by the name of Gabriel at the Kampala Backpackers, it was decided we would head-off for the Ssese Islands in Lake Victoria for some R&R.

We were warned there is little to do in Kalangala, which suited us just fine. Two and a half days of lounging around was just what I needed after the bustle of Kampala life. So as a result, there’s not much to write about, except for the great hospitality of Luc’s gang at the Hornbill campsite. Luc shared some interesting views on multinationals exploiting Africa and the co-operation they receive from not only corrupt African governments, but also from Western governments. Comments to follow in another posting. Stay tuned.

Highlight, other than having a tent a stone’s throw from Lake Victoria, was renting a scooter for the day and exploring the island. Even gave some rides to locals walking the road, only to discover they didn’t really have anywhere to go, they just wanted a ride from a mzungo. I aim to please.

Photos at Ssese Album

Kampala Top 5

Mon, 17 Jul 2006 20:31:30 -0400

Ahh...soothing African travels. 5:15 a.m., a bus ride along the narrow and bumpy road from Kabale to Kampala, the background filled with loveable duets from Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers, and Faith Hill with Tim McGraw. Six country songs on one cassette tape, on repeat, for 3 hours. So on average each song is played 7.5 times.

But the scenery was spectacular. Lush green hills, banana trees everywhere, and goat meat on a stick at every stop. Faux pas se pleindre.

Back in Kampala after visiting parts of south-west Uganda which included a trek for gorillas in Bwindi Impenetrable National Park (I’ll write about that adventure later). The picture above…I was reading in a park on a Saturday when the place became overrun with weddings. I befriended one of the parties and they were kind enough to invite me to the reception, but I had to decline.

But for now, I present to you Giacomo’s Top 5 Reasons why Kampala Rocks. Accompanying photo album to be posted too.

#1: The Boda-Bodalicious: Depending on your viewpoint, this is either the most exciting way to get around a city, or it’s your best shot at experiencing Uganda’s health care system first hand, if not for bodily injuries, then for ulcers and stress related syndromes. The boda-boda is a scooter taxi, usually driven by a young man, sometimes wearing a helmet. You do not get a helmet. Drivers pride themselves on their ability to zig-zag through traffic, dodging everything from pedestrians to chickens to sections of missing road. In my view there’s no better way to get the full Kampala experience then by smelling your way through town on the back of a boda-boda. Not so good for the lungs and eyeballs, but great for a quick cool down too.

#2: The Rolex, the Ultimate Snack:
Rolex stands are pretty basic: operator standing over a hot plate under which a charcoal fire burns. Operator then cooks an egg omelette with some tomatoes and wraps it in chapatti bread (Eastern Africa’s better version of pita bread). Voila. Simple, tasty, cheap, and best of all, available all over town. Met one Danish backpacker who lived for 2 days on nothing but Rolex.

#3: Free Grinding Lessons
So you’ve admired a male dancer's abilities from far, but you’re not able to muster up the courage to ask him for some pointers. Well welcome to Ange Noire, Kampala’s most happening night club par excellence. In most countries you bump into a man on the dance floor and the testosterone hits the roof, the shoulders broaden, the chest puffs. But in Kampala a bump is a great way to break the ice and join your fellow brothers in a grinding display of camaraderie to the tantalizing sounds of a Shaggy tune. Yes, they’re probably really looking for a quick and easy laugh, but I got a lot of pointers and encouragement from the guys. Sadly, cameras are not allowed into Ange Noire.

Men hold hands here as a sign of close friendships, not unlike many places in the world where homosexuality is not yet socially accepted, and of course grinding on a dance floor isn’t much of a stretch when you stop to think about it. Great memories 'cuz I was dancing like I’ve never danced before, oh… Muscles which lay dormant since my elementary school classes of ballet-jazz were suddenly brought back on-line.

#4: Bonjourno...an Italian Deli
Prosciutto, olives and paninis, Zio Luisun’s Supermarket meets all your Italian-Ugandan culinary needs. I almost cried when they sliced me some porchetta.

#5: Good Vibrations:
Kampala isn’t perfect (like rumour has it that a big chunk of the wealth here comes from illegally acquired diamonds from the Democratic Republic of Congo being brought to market, but let’s not go there), but overall this city has a great feeling to it. Safe and full of friendly and helpful residents, and you’re never far from some of Uganda’s most beautiful treasures. Plus, the billboards are fantastic and there are tons of vendors selling vintage 80s and 90s clothing and shoes.

P.S. Thanks for the positive comments on the pictures. But I find it interesting that almost all of those comments went something like this: "Hey Panico, great pictures. What amazing camera are you using?"

Photos at Kampala Album

Kampala Nights

Mon, 10 Jul 2006 20:28:50 -0400

Made it to Kampala, the capital of Uganda, without much of a fuss...oh, except for the 28 trip from Moshi, of which 24 were spent on a budget bus on not so smooth roads. But I can’t complain for the price. And the trip did include a stop in the notorious city of Nairobi, Kenya.

Despite all the warnings it looked ok to me so I walked around the bus station for a couple of hours, between 8 and 10 pm. All I can say is Oh my goodness! Picture a city being evacuated as a hurricane is approaching, every night. Total chaos, the sidewalks covered with vendors, taxi-vans everywhere bumper to bumper, people scrambling in all directions, and most of all, the noise. An aural orgy of every urban sound imaginable - late at night. Words cannot do it justice.

When in Kampala Giacomo Panico and his guests stay at the not so luxurious yet ambient Backpackers Hostel. Met a lot of fellow travellers here including a whole lot of UK chaps and chappesses. Can somebody explain to me how these kids can drink so much? And Kampala is THE place in Eastern Africa to party. This town has a great vibe and has truly given me a different perspective on East Africa.

Fresh off the bus I thought I’d charm Kampalians with my Tanzanian acquired Swahili skills. After some funny looks, and always getting responses in English, I was informed that in Kampala people view Swahili as passé and generally have not so good associations with it. Great start. While Lugandan is used a lot, English is huge here: between Kampalans themselves, in ads, everywhere. People here want to feel modern. The place is buzzing, the people are very friendly, it’s very safe, and compared to other places I’ve visited, there is more hope. Granted, that’s a pretty big thing to put out there, but that’s the feeling you get here.

In my next entries I’ll focus on some specifics. For now, I’m just chilling in Kampala until I head west for forests, gorillas and volcanoes.

P.S. Did I mention people are friendly here? And as a bonus for me, many Ugandans are cheering for Italy. On more than a few occasions merchants and other Kampalans have shouted in my direction: “Italia!”. (In Tanzania I got the Dubai thing, but not anymore...longer hair of course – oh, and if my hair gets too curly some days I get “Israel?”). I’ve also been called Zambrotta (Italian soccer player) and, wait for it, Jesus. The latter one has actually happened a couple of times. In such cases I send them a small bow and then proceed to bless them with a father, son and holy ghost move. Come to think of it, this might help me with my original goal on this trip: to get my face printed on a country’s currency. I’ll keep you posted on that one.

Faith Restored

Sun, 2 Jul 2006 20:14:34 -0400

With my decision not to climb Kili made I now had a chance to explore Moshi and try to discover what, other than Kili, makes this town tick. From what I saw, not much else. And that to me is just fine.

So much of Moshi is geared to people coming to climb the mountain. Other than that it seemed, Moshi has little to offer if you’re looking for something special. But I wasn’t, and so Moshi really, really grew on me. The people here are genuinely friendly, particularly in the villages surrounding Moshi where you find yourself saying jambo every 20 seconds. It doesn’t matter what load some woman is carrying on her head, she will tilt her head to make eye contact and will throw you a "Jambo!".

Most of my time here was spent promenading the streets and markets, with periods of relaxation at The Coffee Shop or in the small villages surrounding Moshi (had a nice waterfall in Marangu all to myself), usually in preparation for an evening of World Cup playoffs at the East Africa Pub with the locals.

Once again I signed up for a cultural walk (I really like these), this time of Machame, a Chagga village and one of the entry points to Kilimanjaro Park. This is where I had my first hand look at the porter situation. The tour was great as we visited a family and toured the town. Highlight: it was Sunday so our guide invited us into the Lutheran church where a fellow mguzo participant and I were invited to stand in front of about 100 Sunday School students who sang for us – and had my mini-disk recording for part of it! Have I mentioned I’ve been collecting sound clips on this trip, besides interviews? Dar fish market, Serengeti, and now children singing to us. Magical.

They asked us if we wanted to say anything so in my broken Swahili I said hello, asked them how they were doing, introduced myself and where I was from, and asked them what their asking price was…OK, maybe not that last one.

All in all I’ve enjoyed the quietness here and the nothing-to-do-ness. Not doing traditional touristy things has been refreshing. Much needed after the whole Arusha safari stuff. Faith restored. Thank you Moshi.

Check out the photos at Moshi Album

A Line and a Mountain

Fri, 30 Jun 2006 20:12:32 -0400

Months ago when I chose to visit East Africa it was with the goal of climbing Kilimanjaro. But how plans can change.

A couple of weeks before getting to Moshi I found myself questioning my whole Kili thing. Why was I doing this? What would the experience be like alone (besides sharing it with my guide and porters)? Did it fit into what I really wanted to do and see? Would I learn anything valuable for all that money? You can see where I’m going.

Once in Moshi I shopped around for a company, a process almost as discouraging as shopping for a safari in Arusha. And then I visited the Kilimanjaro Porter’s Assistance Project, a porter being a sherpa in an area other than the Himalayas. You learn from them that only 10% of Kili companies are paying their porters a fair wage of 8,000 Tanzanian shillings (1,200 shillings equal to about 1 USd). Most get around 3,000 TSh, and in some cases there are so many extra porters around that they actually pay the guide to hire them and settle for tips as their wage. It’s all pretty disgusting. I interviewed Karen (an American working there for 2 years), who is their project officer and I’ll be posting it as a podcast when I get back.

You also learn about the conditions they work in. Quite disheartening. Meagre clothing and meals, inadequate sleeping arrangements, waiting outside in the cold while the clients eat in the mess tent because that becomes their tent once the client had had their dessert. These guys are supposed to have a 20 kg cargo limit which is checked by scale as they enter the park. But park rangers can be bribed, and allow me to describe the scene as I was ventured to the Machame gate in hiking the lower parts of Kili.

A mass of desperate porters, each willing to accept less than the others for a chance at some work. Chaos. The young lad weighing the packs is wearing headphones, shuffling people through, throwing bags here and there. The scale is this small thing you can only read up close. It would be comical if it wasn’t so sad. The porters, desperate for work, balance their loads on the scale’s hook, kind of supporting it at the same time. Bags which are deemed too heavy are put aside, some things taken out, and smaller things put in, and off they go. There is absolutely no precision in any of this. Right there at the park gate, my heart just sank.

Wages are better with a company in the upper 10%. Park fees alone for a 5 day climb are around $550. Budget operators will sell you a 5 day climb for $700. A proper climb with a company promoted by the Kili Porter’s Project people is around $950. Where do you think they’re saving? And by the way, we shouldn’t assume that those park fees are all being invested into the park or into addressing some of the issues raised. I can’t help but feel like the Tanzanian government is exploiting everyone: tourists who’ve been marketed and the porters who risk their safety for all this to happen, and get treated like crap in return.

That’s a lot of money I could do a lot with: places I could visit, people I could meet, chimps or gorillas I could stalk. Or, I could spend it walking for 5 days, not meeting many people, in some cases in barren land. The challenge thing? I think I’m up for the physical part. The biggest obstacle to climbing Kili is the altitude sickness, and you either get it or you don’t, and if you do you don’t continue. How is that overcoming your limits? A 7 year old climbed it! So do seniors. Of course, great views and a great experience for some.

Money issues aside, this became a question of conscience. I hope I don’t come across as some puritan snob but after all I saw and learned I just wanted no part of it. It gave me lots to think about, namely, Where do you draw the line? How do you decide that an increase in your quality of life - be it materialistic like saving a few bucks shopping somewhere cheap like Walmart, or enjoying a great experience like Kili – How do you weight those increases in your quality of life against the impact of your participation, the endorsement you’re providing, the values you’re supporting?

I agree that taking a position at the extreme end might really limit what you can do in life. But every decision we make counts. Throwing your hands up and lamenting all the regular excuses – my impact is negligible; I can’t always make the right call so what’s the point, I might as well give in - that’s just not acceptable.

Just like I don’t NEED to shop at Walmart, I don’t NEED to climb Kili. In the end, everyone has their own reasons for climbing this mountain, and they draw their line accordingly, or in some cases blindly. I decided to draw my line, and Kili isn’t on my side.

Random Thoughts from the Road

Thu, 29 Jun 2006 20:10:38 -0400

Best item I brought with me to Africa...
It’s a tie between my ear plugs and my digital SLR camera. The plugs are a must in Tanzania where the sense of savoir-vivre vis-à-vis noise is non-existent. Noise is constant. You’re either woken up by dogs or cat fights, roosters, people playing music (they love Shakira here), or Muslim prayers blasting on the Mosque speakers at 5:30 am. If a bus or ferry has an A/V system, it will be on at all times, often at full volume, and likely playing something like a Jean-Claude Van Dam movie.

The camera has been my travel buddy and I’m happy I decided to bring it considering the risks (as I’m knocking on the desk). I’d like to thank my friends Dom and Thu for their camera consulting services, and the good people at Galaxy Photo (boo Henry’s).

Worst item I brought with me to Africa...
My nice GEOX suede walking shoes. What was I thinking? My Merrels have been great and tough. I thought I’d use the GEOX in urban areas, but paved roads are rare in the places I’ve been to. So the GEOX were sent home (too nice to give away). But I did give away one pair of pants and a t-shirt, with more stuff to shed in the coming days. If I haven’t used it enough in one month, it’s not worth the space anymore.

What I miss the most...
Ah, my ritualistic symphony of a morning cereal bowl. Some All-Bran, oat bran powder, ground flax seeds, muslix, Vector, Whole Wheat Honey Oats, topped with a banana and roasted almonds, and frozen blueberries. This has been my morning staple for a year and a half, and oh how I miss it here. I did buy some cereal (it’s insanely expensive here), but getting fresh milk in hotels is a problem. That and the fact that I came back to my room one night to see that someone else also liked my cereal. He didn’t thank me as he jumped out of my bag, ran under the bed, and jumped into a hole in the floor. The cereal was tossed. At least someone will be regular for a while.

I’d also like a normal temperature latte (they serve them here with near sublimated milk at something like 300 degrees Kelvin), and a 30 GB memory stick.

What I thought I would miss the most but don’t really...
News. I’m a news junky. I always want to know what’s happening out there. I’ve always needed to be informed. But it’s not been a problem at all, and in fact, kind of relaxing to not hear all the negative stuff (Is Harper still giving people back their money to buy their votes?)

Health status update...
Can’t complain, other than the regular traveller's stuff (see cereal note from above). Some foot blistering (about the size of a marble) but manageable.

Soul status update...
Other than the annoying touts whom I refuse to let ruin my experience in Tanzania, it’s all hakuna matata. Despite what I write sometimes, this is a wonderful place with wonderful people.

Around Arusha

Tue, 27 Jun 2006 19:56:08 -0400

One of the great things about Lonely Planet is the “Around x” section, in this case x being Arusha. It’s always good to get out of town for a day or two and explore the surroundings. So I signed myself up for a neat program here: a cultural walking tour of a village.

Of course, I was concerned that this would be a well choreographed view into “traditional” Warusha life, the kind where you visit people who are dressed up for the tourists. In some ways, it was that, but it was overall a great glimpse into village life.

Almost everyone has seen video or pictures of the Maassai, the nomadic ranchers of East Africa, dressed in the shuka, usually a red coloured blanket, armed with a spear or stick to heard animals. You’ve probably seen them in Coke ads. While they are only 5% of the Tanzanian population, they are very visible. A huge issue here is their desire to continue using the land for grazing their livestock. They are nomadic after all, and they’ve been at it for over a thousand years. This is a problem for the government, what with land ownership and national parks. You can see the conflict.

My tour involved a visit to the local Maasai cattle market for half the day, and a visit to a Warusha village. The Warusha used to be Maasai, but many years ago they decided to settle on the land and use agriculture to feed themselves and their animals, usually only a couple of sheep and cattle (the Maasai often have herds approaching 100). That and the Warusha are monogamous, whereas the Maasai in some cases are still polygamous.

With my guide Emmanuel by my side I toured the village and spent some time in a boma, the traditional Warusha house made of wood, dirt and manure. Tradition calls for the boma to include a room for the cattle to sleep in - and to think my family used to keep the dog outside! Around the village you could witness the Tanzanian trend: women working all the time, lots of young men seemingly doing nothing. I asked my guide about this impression I had, first politely, then ever increasing my level of challenge because his response sounded like excuse making to me, something about how the men often make sure the cattle are fed early each morning. Some how I don’t think the women are sleeping while this is happening, or chatting at the street corner for that matter. Maybe I’m being too hard, maybe they’re defending against a potential lion attack.

From the village we rode a dalla-dalla to the Maasai market. A dalla-dalla is basically a mini-van which supposedly follows a set route. I say that because in Stone Town our dalla-dalla made a variation in its route for a special pick-up, a regular occurrence it would appear. You know when your bus driver stops at Tim Horton’s and jumps in for a double double. Annoying, right? Well how about it if your bus driver pulls into a cement factory, and everybody has to get out for 20 minutes as they load about 30 bags of cement onto the roof? That was my dalla-dalla in Stone Town. Important fact in Tanzania: a dalla-dalla is never, ever full. There is always room for another chicken, bag of rice, or mguzo.

For this ride all I can say is that it was crowded, which is pretty standard here. You can see what I mean in the pictures.

Once at the market we navigated our way to where the cattle and sheep were being traded. Two big things stand out here. First, the Maasai are generally very skeptical about mguzos and cameras. They don’t like the possibility that someone will sell their photo (they all seem to think that was my diabolic plan) and they are worried about people exploiting them. Secondly, a man tried to sell me his sheep. I didn’t know how to respond. It was a good looking sheep after all, and the price was great at 25,000 Tsh (about $22 USd). Then I thought about the dalla-dalla ride home.

Ended my time in Arusha watching some good old World Cup Football on the mini-screen at the place across the street from my hotel where, wait for it, young men gather, grill stuff, and watch football. Might as well join them. The man next to me in the photo is well respected because he reads out loud every caption on the TV to the crowd gathered around. It’s a good life.

Photos at Arusha Album

Arusha, Safari Town Tanzania

Mon, 26 Jun 2006 19:24:58 -0400

All I can say right now about Arusha is that at least in Stone Town when you say “Ahsante” the touts eventually leave you alone. Not so in Arusha. It really is a shame to have that as my first impression of Arusha, and for this to be the first thing I share with you about Arusha, but they really are aggressive here. So much safari business comes through here, and so many young men are in need of cash. The alternative is that they join the countless other young men in Tanzania for their favourite pastime…standing around doing nothing.

If I’m giving you the impression that I’m getting a little frustrated, it’s because I am. Let me be clear about one thing I’ve concluded in my three weeks here, which is probably no surprise to experienced travellers out there, but which is a dose of a sad reality for me: in almost every case here, if someone can rip you off, they will. There appears to be absolutely no shame in doing it. Maybe these “business” people feel justified. But how can these operators have no sense of shame?

By now you might be wondering if my safari driver left me in a field surrounded by water buffalos and zebras, in the middle of the Serengeti, as I stepped out to relieve myself. I’m happy to report that was not the case. The company I selected, Crown-Eagle, was cheap and that was a factor in choosing them. But the most reason for choosing them was that they were one of the very few companies taking individuals, so my options were limited.

The safari was all right, but there was one big problem: our driver/guide was only a driver. Forget the guide part, this guy knew nothing, or if he did, he kept it to himself. The first and most important thing I’ve ever learned about interpretation is that the guide makes all the difference, and this was no exception. Essentially we entered the parks, and then drove around. If by chance an animal was around, we were in luck. Did I mention our driver/guide’s name was Goodluck?

His other strategy was to go to where other trucks were converging. Obviously that’s what they all do, but he never once brought us to a place where we might have a good chance of seeing some rare animals hanging out or passing by, unlike the other guides do - I confirmed this with other mguzos at the camp sites. Other groups tracked lions and stocked them as they roamed the park, cubs and all. Our group got to see a sleeping lion, under a bush. It just lied there, sleeping. Oh no wait, its chest was moving. I have no idea what a walking lion looks like.

Remember how I said you don’t talk to barefoot Tanzanians on the street? Well, if your safari guide doesn’t have binoculars, stay away.

Now that I’ve got that off my chest, I can let you know that I took about 2GB of pictures. I’ve posted some of the better ones at in the June 26 Album entry.

Oh, and the three people in my group (an American student volunteering here, a Cape Bretoner now living in Calgary and working in Yemen, and a newly graduated lawyer from London) were fantastic. The glue that kept us together? Our shared knowledge of all things Simpsons.

Other positive highlights:
-An elephant we and another truck were stocking got a little nervous (felt bad about that). So he decided to put on a demonstration of his strength by promptly heading for a nearby tree and tearing down a huge part of hit. At first we thought he was trying to lower some leaves closer to the ground. But no, it was really just a sissy fit by a 6 ton animal. Then he let out a big howl and kept on walking. I have to say it was intimidating.

-Seeing a black rhino. That thing is huge and looks deadly. It is much longer in person.

Overall I’m glad I did the safari. These are beautiful parks with an incredible amount of life in them. To see first hand how these animals move about in common areas was really a treat.

Next up is some exploring around Arusha. It'll be good to get out of this town again...

Safari photos at Safari Album

Oh Zanzibar...

Fri, 23 Jun 2006 19:08:32 -0400

From Dar I sailed on the “fast” ferry to Stone Town, Zanzibar. Remember what I wrote about touts in my last blog, well it was thanks to my new “friend” Adam that I found a hotel in Stone Town. This is as good a time as any to let you know that I have absolutely no reservations for this trip. Now while the Manch Guest House was OK, there was one major problem from which Giacomo learned a couple of valuable lessons: inspect your mosquito net and don’t rest a body part against the net, because that just gives the mosquitoes a grid from which to divvy up the applicable body part for their consumption. The result was ugly. I stopped counting at 75 bites on my right foot. The left one was just as bad.

In Stone Town I did what all tourists do: a spice tour, and get lost. The city is a maze of narrow corridors and as you learn about most of Tanzania it’s been influenced by the Arabs, Portuguese, Germans, English, and Indians (the Italians tried but were told to keep trying further up the coast as word was Somalia and Ethiopia were still looking for a colonial power). All this influence is great for food variety. Seriously though, Tanzanians are very, very welcoming, and this history is probably a big part of that.

For my next leg, things just came together. I headed up north to Kendwa for some beach and wouldn’t you know it, there was a full moon party that night. Unfortunately, the Kendwa Rocks Beach Resort (don’t let the resort part fool you, this is a very basic place, which was perfect) didn’t have any singles. Fortunately, two ladies from Edmonton had an extra bed and were looking to keep costs down. I’m all for that. "Come and Knock on our Door. We’ve been waiting for You…." All I can say is, our hut was 30 seconds from the beautiful beach, the full moon party was fantastic, the beach was spectacular, and I didn’t even have to pretend to be gay.

Three nights later it was off to the eastern beaches of Zanzibar in Metembwe for some scuba-diving on the coral reef. As one of only two guests in the hotel I was treated quite well, almost receiving too much attention as the "concierge" Ali basically hovered over my every move to ensure all was well. There we are, all alone is the restaurant, our table the only one set for dinner, and Ali sitting in the corner starring at us. My glass gets low, Ali jumps up and refills it. I drop my napkin, Ali brings me a new one before it hits the ground. A little too eerie.

The scuba-diving was sensational to say the least, despite my getting a little weak. I’m really struggling in adjusting to not eating every 3 hours. Another problem is the presence of my arch nemesis the potato. They serve chips with everything. There’s also lots of Coke, cigarettes and plastic bags. No shortage of those in Tanzania.

But hey, let me throw a positive in here: I’m having a blast and am really enjoying getting to know the people of Tanzania. I’ve interviewed a few people to get their views on education, health, government and hope. These are a resilient people, but for some, hope is hard to find in a place like Stone Town with high unemployment and the drug abuse.

OK, so that turned out into a little negative, so here: I visited the Moto co-op run by women. They are trying to keep their rare craft skills by producing items which they ten sell as a co-operative. Unfortunately you can buy in Tanzania crafts which look like the real thing, but which actually come from India and China. At Moto I meet a mtoto (child in Swahili) with his little toy car. He was playing shy, but really he wanted his picture taken many times. I obliged, but no payment was exchanged as that is discouraged because it sets a bad practice.

From Matembwe I headed back to Stone Town where I had a wonderful meal at a restaurant called "Two Tables". Talk about a family run eating establishment. It consists of two tables inside a family's house (you walk through their living room) where they basically cook more of what they're eating that night (reservation is a must). Delicious and culturally educational.

After Stone Town it was back to Dar for the bus ride to Arusha in North-eastern Tanzania where I'll be shopping for a safari.

Check out the Zanzibar Album

Jambo Dar Es Salaam

Fri, 9 Jun 2006 18:51:47 -0400

You read articles, speak to people who’ve visited Tanzania, look at their pictures, and you think you’re ready for what you’ll see and experience. But nothing can prepare you for the sense of what I can only describe as “routine chaos” that is Dar es Salaam. The first thing I noticed driving into town from the airport (after the humidity and continuos smell of something bad burning that is), is all the people walking. Thousands, walking along the road, and all along that road, people selling things. Everything. It seems 50% of Tanzanians are self-employed merchants.

Combs, gum, stamps, pillows, meat on a stick. Anything you need, it’s for sale on the street. Love it. Dar was intimidating at first, a real test for getting acclimatized to East Africa. I planned on simply getting my bearings for a day before heading off to the beaches of Zanzibar. But one day became two as the city started to grow on me, and I decided to visit again on the way into the mainland.

My highlight was visiting the city’s famous fish market. One afternoon I ventured there alone but let’s just say I didn’t last very long. Very intimidating, and I wasn’t up to the challenge. So the next day I interviewed cab drivers for the job of Giacomo’s guide to the fish market. The successful candidate, Urasa, was the seventh driver I interviewed and I’m happy to report he performed admirably as my guide. It was a wonderful learning experience as I was shown how the market works, and I was able to photograph at will. Highlight was meeting a really enthusiastic fan of Canada (many Tanzanians are) who proudly displayed his fish for sale. If I was planning a sushi party for sixty, I would have bought it on the spot.

They warn you in Lonely Planet about the aggressive touts who want to lead you to their hotels and sign you up for expeditions. But L.P. doesn’t tell you some will follow you too. It’s always nice when a stranger approaches you and says: “Hey my friend, I’ve been following you for 15 minutes. Let me help you out.” Ah, no thanks, that’s no sales pitch for me.

All of this aggressive behaviour caused me to boost power to my defensive shields. Now that I’ve been here for a few days though, I realize my shields were set a little too high. Not all touts are bad. Tip #1 is to avoid the barefoot ones, as this is generally a sign of a desperate man. Tip #2 is it’s OK to talk to them because you call always say no, or as many Tanzanians tell me: “You are free Mr. Jack”.

And they say they are worse in Zanzibar. Next destination: Stone Town, Zanzibar.

For photos, visit Dar Album

Ikea Land

Mon, 5 Jun 2006 22:55:52 -0400

What better welcome to a new country than your friends greeting you at the airport with balloons and a happy birthday sign? So was the scene as a couple of my old high school friends Michel and Olivier, currently residing in Stockholm and Zurich respectively, greeted me along with Michel's girlfriend Ylva and his four legged friend Yuril. Although Yuril appeared more interested in eating up the styrofoam sign.

Not to sound too Ikeaish, but design and function do have a whole different feel here. For example, the universally accessible toilets here are quite impressive. You don't just get a token handle or two, but instead there's a whole lever system. As I fan of gadgety things, I could get used to this place. Things seem designed with much thought and are done right. But they could use a little more Italian warmth...I can't recall seeing one red sports car.

Those you know me well know I like to judge people, nay a country, by their automotive interests. Practical and robust is the theme here. But as always, there is an exception. A fringe group of Stockholmers seem to have been swept away by the whole Grease thing. Convertible muscle cars, Brilcreamed hair, rock 'n roll blarring...in Stockholm. Oh, and the tradition at graduation time whereby teenagers rent a huge truck, decorate it with some sort of pine like tree, and tour around town in the back, dancing and drinking. Probably something pioneered by an entrepreneurial truck fleet owner who saw a new revenue stream.

Which leads me to the Swedish people. Designed with purpose, definitely done right, but shy it would seem (except for the rockers and graduating teenagers). My first day there I offered to help a stranger carry her suitcase up a flight of stairs, an offer she politely declined. I was later informed by my hosts that this was totally a non-Swedish thing to do, an act that could potentially come across as being patronizing. Hey, I can't fight my genes.

Overall, Stockholm pleasantly surprised me, mostly because I had absolutely no expectations, a strategy I encourage you to try if you have not already. Nice architecture, clean, purposeful. Its citizen's seem to support each other, like they understand that they're all in this together.

But they are a shy lot as a whole, and nowhere is that more evident than in the night scene. Now I should prefix all of this by stating that Giacomo is not a clubbing kind of person, but he does very much enjoy studying people and their behaviors. Perhaps I have a future in anthropology or sociology. Suffice to say that people here wait around until the end of the night, and it would seem things just happen. People who try to force something are viewed as being too aggressive, like they have an agenda. It's all very sweet and innocent, like a high school dance (at least when I was in high school). Very refreshing indeed.

Of course like everywhere else on the planet alcohol always helps people relax, and the Swedes do enjoy to dab into the bottle. With their winters and long nights, I would to. But while I've been here, the sun sets at 11:30 and rises at 3:30.

As for me I completed a few more last minute purchases (hope it all fits). Back to London to catch the flight to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.

Rule Britannia!

Sun, 4 Jun 2006 22:57:16 -0400

Having selected British Airways as the sponsor airline for my trip, a changeover in London is required as they have not yet introduced a direct flight from Montreal to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Both flights are overnighters, so I elected to break down the trip with some time in London "tout seul" and in Stockholm to see some old friends on my birthday.

So what better place to finish final preparations for the East Africa trip than London? Everything I could possibly need is here, at affordable prices too. Actually, any more than the 36 hours I spent here and my budget might have been seriously compromised.

I love to walk. I’ve spent a lot of time lately walking around Ottawa, but here the pace is brisk. Locals here walk fast and with a purpose, not unlike most big cities I guess. At first, I was the guy on left side of the escalator, passing the locals. They probably thought to themselves: We’ll see how you feel tonight, rookie boy! And so it was, by about hour 14 I felt like I was walking on golf balls. Good training I say for what’s ahead. I thought about renting a lawn chair in Green Park (pictured),

More training too as I was able to brush up on my bartering skills buying some last minute recording equipment. I now have all I need for recording audio pieces, but getting them on-line will still be a challenge from from the field. I also picked up a copy of "The Art of Zen and Motorcycle Maintenance" which will serve as my beach book in Zanzibar. Apparently, this is a must read, and what better time.

London also tested my ability to adapt to less structured eating habits. For the past one and a half years I’ve pretty much stuck to small prepared meals, 6 times a day, along with about 33 gallons of water a day. Good if you work in a cubicle. Not so easy on the road, especially with London’s notorious lack of public facilities.

Funniest moment was at the Portobello Market. I set myself up for a cafe latte across from a fruit vendor who would yell out, every 20 seconds without fail, in a classic English accent: “Who’s Next please?” Occasionally to mix things up he would throw in a “Yes, please”. It mattered not that there were no customers. I think I saw one little old lady buy something in the whole hour I was there. “Who’s Next please?” as if in his mind there was this long line of customers all fighting for his attention, jostling for the very last mango on his stand. I bought a nectarine and a plum.

Check meal #5.

Off to Stockholm.

And so it begins....

Mon, 29 May 2006 22:54:35 -0400

Finished my last show at CKCU this morning, a double billing with Dom as co-host and the wonderful Maurizio as our men’s fashion consultant. Now it’s off to Montreal to have a peak at the CBC Radio operations tomorrow before catching the flight to London.

One night in London (no hotel booked yet, yikes!), then off to Stockholm for 4 nights to see some friends and ring in the old B-Day. Then back to London to hop on the London to Dar es Salaam flight, landing in Tanzania on the morning of June 6.

I’ve been too busy scrambling around to get overexcited yet, or nervous for that matter. I haven’t really sat down and figured out what my expectations are, to try a sort of “before and after” analysis once this trip is done.

But there’s still London and Stockholm, and the train ride to Montreal....