Tuesday, November 09, 2010

Devil’s Pool and Sneaking Into Zimbabwe

After back-to-back buses from Chipata and Lusaka, we were excited to land in the adventure capital of southern Africa: Livingstone. After an initial day of getting our bearings, we spent three crazy days doing one adrenalin-rushing activity after another.

Day 1:

No visit to Livingstone would be complete without a trip to its number one tourist destination: Vic Falls. Despite the fact that it is the dry season, the falls are still beautiful. A full rainbow ran the length of the falls the entire time we were there.








After we were finished exploring the sanctioned portion of the falls, we tiptoed across the concrete divider that divides the front and backside of the falls. Because it was dry season, the water was low enough on the top that we were able to swim in the pools above the falls.








(Photo by Regina)

And, thanks to a tip from some friends at Jolly Boys, the coolest hostel in Livingstone, we sought out the “After Hours” tour. This underground tour is basically a bunch of tour guides (who take tourists to Livingstone Island during the day for $60 a head) supplementing their income by taking backpackers to the same places after hours for a third of the price. To do this, we must wait until the falls are technically closed, dive for cover whenever we see the guides’ bosses or any boats, swim across the river that divides Zambia from Zimbabwe, and, on the way back, try to avoid elephants in the dark.


(Photo by Regina)

(Sneaking into Zimbabwe: Photo by Regina)

As a reward for these efforts, we arrive to Devil’s Pool, a pool located on top of the Zimbabwean side of the falls (the most powerful side of the Falls), at sunset and have it almost entirely to ourselves. The jump from the rocks into this pool on top of the powerful falls was terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the portion of the “tour” where the guides hold you by your ankles while you lean out over the falls, trying not to imagine the plunge to your death.






Do I look scared?

Zikomo Zambia

From Nkhata, we headed to Zambia. Our first few days there were spent in South Luangwa National Park. We stayed at FlatDogs, which is expensive, but worth it. After an extremely bad minibus experience—3hours waiting until the bus got full to leave + overheating + breaking down + waiting two hours for a replacement bus arrived +realizing that it was a third of the size of our already overcrowded bus + arguing about a refund so that we could afford to pay a taxi to take us the rest of the way = seven+ hours to travel 120 km and my throwing a total tantrum—we settled into our tents. We arrived after dark (almost hitting a hippo a mile from our destination) and had to be escorted to our tents by nightguards. The next morning, I awoke to a hippo mud-bathing about 30 feet from my front door. (View of hippo from my tent)

I was so busy taking pictures of the hippo that I almost missed the elephants that were tromping through camp. After they moved on, I headed to breakfast, but was sidetracked by the giraffe that was munching his way from tree to tree. Throughout the day that giraffe would appear over the top of my shower or while I was sunbathing next to the pool.


(Resident giraffe)



(Some of the monkeys that would wait for us to finish breakfast before sneaking over to grab our leftovers)

My tent ended up being the prime animal viewing spot. My hippo, elephants, baboons, and antelope kept stopping by all day. At one point, we had all of them there at once.


We saw so many animals, we almost didn't need to do any safaris. But I was determined to see the leopard, which had thus far eluded us and which is known to be common in South Luangwa.

On our night game drive, we FINALLY spotted a Leopard! We have now seen all of the Big 5. The leopard was much prettier in person than in any of the photos I’ve seen (or taken).





(Sunset)
That night, I woke up with a hippo loudly munching grass less than two feet from my tent. It was a long night, which made me a bit groggy for our early morning game walk/drive. The walk itself was very informative, though we saw very few animals. Most of the two hour walk consisted of examining animal poop, tracks, and sunbleached bones. We saw more animals on the drive afterwards.





We spent the rest of the day hanging out by the pool and bar and enjoying the excellent food at Flatdog’s Restaurant. We caught a cab at 1 a.m. to begin our long journey to Livingstone.

Sunday, November 07, 2010

Malawi: The Warm Heart of Africa

After my very long bus ride, I spent the next five days relaxing near the shores of Lake Malawi, a huge freshwater lake that appears more like an ocean than a lake because of its size. Mayoka Village is a backpackers’ haven right on the shores of the lake. It has really cute cabins, an incredibly friendly staff, good food, and a great area to lounge around. I spent my first day there catching up on sleep and walking into town to make arrangements for the rest of the week. I was very content to lay in the lounge area reading my book, watch cheesy movies in the tv area, and enjoy foods such as sandwiches and salads, which had been rare during our trip. It was also pizza night!

The next morning, I headed early into town to go visit the witch doctor. This experience was worth it for the interesting, cultural commentary rather than any real knowledge. The witch doctor explained to me all about the common diseases and natural cures, but admitted that his cures only lasted a few days until they could get the patient to the hospital. He also told me that a father can curse his daughter and an older sibling can curse a younger sibling, but not vice versa, and that even if he performed the ritual for removing the curse it could not be removed unless the cursor had agreed to forgive the cursed. Perhaps most interesting, he explained that in order to perform the ceremony necessary to cast off evil spirits, the subject had to wear a costume with crosses on it (because they are Christian). They would first pray, then drum and dance until the spirits told them what to do to satisfy them such as slaughter a goat. This juxtaposition of Christianity and African medicine was very amusing to me.



When I made my way back to the Village for our free local lunch (Nsima), I was excited to see that Regina and Kaitlin had arrived a whole day earlier than expected. They were just in time for a dive. Lake Malawi is home to a large number of cichlids, which mutate very quickly, resulting in innumerable variations of the species. They are mouth breeders, meaning they carry the eggs in their mouth and, after birth, hold the baby cichlids in their mouths to protect them from danger. We saw this phenomenon, which is recorded on disc one of Planet Earth, several times throughout our dive. Also, the cichlids mate with one partner. If a male cichlid dies, its female partner CHANGES SEX! You could tell by their coloring, which cichlids were in the process of their sex change. We were also swimming late enough in the day that we were able to see the dolphin fish out trolling for cichlids.

The next day, Regina and Kaitlin worked on their dugout canoe skills for the entertainment of the rest of the camp.





Afterwards, I finished my village tour by visiting the local distillery (brewing Kachusu)—-in a dilapidated shed—-tasting the local beer (Chibuku, Shake Shake), and trying some medicinal plant (Gondolose). The guide explained to me that Gondolose is for women who want to have babies. After I quickly handed it back to him, saying that I wasn't quite ready to try it, he laughed, and further explained that it is somehow supposed to give women who are in labor strength.

That night we had fun at the Mayoka BBQ, which is widely attended by Mayoka Villagers and the locals alike.

On Saturday, we took a boat trip that included feeding the fish eagles (lovingly nicknamed Condie and Tony (Blair)), cliff diving,
snorkeling, and playing traditional games with the local children on a beach. That night we went to KayaPapaya for their three course Thai dinner. It was the best meal I’ve had on the trip. Unfortunately, it was the meal that immediately preceded my bout of food poisoning. I spent our last day in Nkhata in bed or in the bathroom. At least it was a nice place to be sick.


All over Malawi, people were selling dried fish on the street.

The street vendors always stack their produce into cute little, pyramid piles.

Friday, November 05, 2010

This is Africa

“How in the hell did I get here?” It was not the first time I had uttered this phrase during this trip, but as I stood on a mostly deserted street in the middle of the night with no clue how to get to my hotel, this was the first time I had said the phrase in bewilderment rather than in amusement or amazement. My arrival in Nkhata Bay was the culmination of nearly 48 hours on a bus and, the untimely arrival, a result of something the locals affectionately call “African Time.”

My trip to Malawi had started out very encouragingly. After having such an incredible day diving in Tofo, I knew that any additional dives would pale in comparison. Also, after spending so many days in the sun, I needed a break from the beach. My friends had just started dive courses and were expecting to be in Tofo for at least four more days. I decided to head out on my own for Malawi.

Although I did almost no advance planning, I got off the ferry that connects Tofo/Imhubwane to the mainland of Mozambique literally seconds before the “luxury” bus to Inchope pulled up. There was only one seat left, and I got it. I was thrilled that I would not have to spend the day Chapa* hopping. I arrived in Inchope right before dusk and a friendly traveler helped me find a short chapa from there to Chimoio, where I caught another, larger chapa to Tete. The chapa operator was happy to take my money at 8 in the evening, neglecting to tell me that the bus would not be leaving until 3 a.m. So instead of going to get dinner or finding a place to relax, I sat/slept on the bus until it left. This was, by far, one of the worst chapa experiences I had, had to date. It was even fuller than usual with no leg room whatsoever—my legs were scrunched on top of a bag of oranges--and there were two very vocal locals that kept screaming at the operator because of the bad conditions, making it impossible to sleep on this unusually long chapa ride. From Tete, I was able to take another crammed chapa to the border of Malawi.
Note to other travelers: the money changers at this border have reprogrammed their calculators to come up with vastly lower numbers. Do not trust their calculators! I had figured out the exchange rate beforehand and was conducting the change right next to the border guards so I only lost a few dollars, but Kaitlin was swindled out of around $100 when they came through a few days later. This was really sad because we have had such positive experiences with really honest people up until this scam. Maybe we would have caught on earlier if we had not let our guard down so much.

From the Malawi border, I met a really nice guy who was heading the same direction as me and who helped me find another bus and another friend to help me on the next bus (from Blantyre to Liwonde). This was such an incredibly positive experience. At one point, I had an entire bus concerned about my welfare, helping me get good prices for my Fanta and locating a hotel close to the road so that I did not have to walk around in the dark. The people in Malawi are so jovial. One elderly man, who commutes several hours from Zomba each day to sell vegetables in Blantyre and who then walks another hour from the bus stop to his home, told me that he would like to invite me to his home to have strawberries with his family. It was an incredibly generous invitation given his obviously unfortunate circumstances. I wish that I could have accepted.

After 37 hours in buses, I was dead tired and willing to sleep anywhere. It was a good thing because the room I stayed at in Liwonde was pretty bad. It was stifling hot with no fan and there was no mosquito net so I was forced to cover myself in blankets. I was so exhausted I barely noticed.

The next morning, I checked out as soon as I had a chance to take a cold shower and headed to the very upscale Hippo Lodge to see if I could arrange a boat safari into the Liwonde National Park. I was disheartened when I heard that it cost $100 for an hour—way out of my backpacker’s budget—but a very friendly group from the Netherlands invited me to join their boat and, because they had already rented the whole boat, I only had to pay $30 for four hours. The ride was very beautiful. There were hippos everywhere! It was so great to see them from this perspective. My favorite part was when a completely submerged hippo would surface directly next to the boat as we passed. We also saw a bunch of thirsty elephants going for a splash.










Back at the hotel, I asked about buses to Nkhata Bay, my next destination. I was told that there was a “direct” bus that left 4 times a day and that it took five hours to get there. I was a bit skeptical about how long it would take to get there—it seemed much further away on the map—so I decided to take the next bus at two, which would give me plenty of time to get there before it got too late even if it took a couple of extra hours. I was reassured by the bus attendant (someone you would assume would know), who told me that the trip would take four hours. I arrived in Nkhata Bay at 11:30 p.m. Now, this was not the first time that I’ve arrived in a town well past dark, but my usual solutions—1. Ask a person who is getting off the bus at the same place where to go or 2. Catch a taxi to my location—were not available. No one else got off the bus in Nkhata and there were not taxis, or other cars, in sight. In fact, the only life on the street was a street sweeper and a group of homeless men cooking their dinners over a campstove.

I was tempted to stay on the bus to the next town and get a hotel there, but I did not know if I would be in any better shtte there. Perhaps in any other country, I would have been in trouble. But here, in Malawi, where the people are exceptionally kind, the street sweeper and homeless group immediately came to my rescue. I told them where I was headed and, after they unsuccessfully tried to locate a taxi, the streetsweeper and a young boy agreed to walk me to Mayoka Village, which they claimed was 15 km away. Fifteen minutes later (apparently African time also applies to distances), I arrived exhausted, but chastened.

Before I traveled to Africa, I had a friend tell me that Africans don’t value life. He was trying to dissuade me from the trip because he claimed it was too dangerous. He explained that because death was so common in Africa, Africans are hardened people who don’t value life the same way that other cultures do. I’m not sure why I believed this person. His reasoning made sense, I thought, and he had traveled quite a bit. But it was contrary to all of my other traveling experiences, which had shown me that for the most part people everywhere are good people.
I am happy to report that my friend was very wrong. In fact, I think the fact that so many of the people here have witnessed so much death and other horrific experiences makes them value life more. They do not take it for granted. Africa has been an amazingly easy country to travel in with, on a whole, beautiful, kind, honest people. I have rarely, if ever, felt in danger of physical harm or theft. I am so glad that I have had so many opportunities to dispel the preconceived notions I had about Africa.

*In most of Africa there are minivans called various things: chapas, minibuses, matutus, etc. Although their names change from country to country, the formula is basically the same. They are old Toyota minivans that have had benches added so that there are four benches which should hold four people each, the end seat in all but the last row is a foldable seat that lifts up so that you can get back to the last row. In Kenya, the matutus have big funny lettering on their front, referencing rappers or other popular figures such as “Notorious,” “Nasty,” or “Slim Shady,” or quoting the bible. From a marketing standpoint, I think “God Blesses” is a much more attractive option than “Nasty.” Even though the seats have been re-fitted to hold up to 16 people, the number of people crammed in regularly exceeds 20, with people standing hunched over the benches. If there is any luggage, it is crammed under the seats so there is generally limited leg room, especially in the last row. It is not uncommon to have live chickens clucking from beneath your feet.