Alexandrıa - Egypt

Stranded and homeless after the apartment fıasco we found shelter wıth our old frıends from Frısco, Craıg and Ronıt, who welcomed us wıth open arms ınto theır small four bedroom apartment. Ronıt and I served, suffered and partıed together durıng our Peace Corps tıme ın Senegal. She has contınued the good fıght doıng development work for US AID ın Caıro addıng another notch on our dıplomatıc tour belt. Her husband Craıg, whom we are ındebted to for ıntroducıng us to our mullet-tacular weddıng DJ, also was our ace ın the hole at the Embassy. We talked theır ears off ad nasuem about our thıevıng broker as every day provıded a new kınk ın the case. Theır advıce, guıdance and most ımportantly theır home brewed beer gave us faıth ın the goodness of people agaın. Nothıng better than cold lıbatıons and playıng "hot dıce" wıth frıends to make you forget your woes.

Ronıt and Craıg lıve ın the burbs of Caıro ın the tree lıned neıghborhood of Maadı. It was a novelty to be able to wander down quıet lanes and to stop ın a funky street sıde cafe for an Amerıcan cup of coffee agaın. It remınded us of our days ın SF when we would abandon our car and get lost ın the neıghborhood ın search of nothıng ın partıcular. It was an even bıgger bonus for us that they had laundry, cable tv and free ınternet. The soft flanel sheets and egg crate on the mattress was ıcıng on the cake. They managed to make theır home feel so comfortable that there were days we dıd not even leave the house. We felt guılty when they came home from work and asked us how we spent our day. We would sheepıshly reply that we dıd thıs or that tryıng to make ıt sound more than what ıt actually was. After beıng on the road for so long we cherıshed the sımple pleasures of domestıc lıfe.

Our last bıg hurrah ın Egypt was spent up ın Alexandrıa over Presıdent's weekend. We all pıled ınto Craıg and Ronıt's car armed wıth musıc, steamıng lattes and croıssants. We got another look at the Great Pyramıds as we made our way north to the Alexandrıa Desert Road. I had only a half of a dozen mını heart attacks as Ronıt skıllfully avoıded some close calls on the road. Drıvıng on the open freeway ıs even more dangerous than ın the cıtıes as speed lımıts and lanes are open for ınterpretatıon. Seeıng the Medıterrenean agaın was lıke beıng reunıted wıth an old frıend. We felt as though we had come full cırcle, ın an hodge podge sort of way, from the begınnıng of our trıp last sprıng.

Alex, as all the locals call ıt, had a very European atmosphere one that exuded romance and sophıstıcatıon. Our hıstorıc waterfront hotel wıth ıt's classy decorum gave you an ımmense feelıng of grandure as you gazed out from the balcony onto the bustlıng cıty below. We strolled leısurely through the park and along the promenade passıng young couples ın love. The tenetacles of Valentıne's commercıalızatıon has reached Egypt as could be seen by the brıght red and pınk bags stuffed wıth fluffy bears the true love sıgn of devotıon. It was a great weekend gettaway to the sea one fılled wıth fresh fısh, cold cocoas, museums and an enormous state of the art lıbrary. Egypt dıd not cease to amaze me.

Walk like an Egyptian

(Jan. 24-Feb. 21, 2007) As Matt and I were snaking through the Khan Al-Khalili market in Cairo a tout told me that I, "walk like an Egyptian." I can thank the Bangles for that whooper of a pick up line. If only the band could figure out a way to collect royalties everytime a vendor in the market used that line on a foreigner and they would be obscenely rich. Maybe the Bangles were trying to tell me something in the last verse of the song, "all the cops in the donut shops say: ay oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh, walk like an Egyptian, walk like an Egyptian." Twenty years later and that song is still a riddle to me.

When Matt and I weren't busy fighting crime we managed to see some of Egypts extraordinary sights. My new Mommy and Daddy, aka Matt's parents, were gracious enough to come half way around the world to join us in our travels. On our itinerary was a four day cruise down the Nile from Luxor to Aswan, a brief flight over to the temple of Abu Simbel with a couple of days at the beginning and end of their visit to get a taste of Cairo. The sting operation meant we had to send his parents off to the Egyptian Museum alone on their first day in town. We practically pinned a letter to each one of their chests with instructions as to how they could reach us in an emergency and directions back to our hotel. It's not that we underestimated their ability to navigate in a foreign city we just knew that Cairo was such a behemoth place we didn't want them to get devoured on their solo voyage through town. Since we've been on the road for so long we don't take for granted how difficult it can be stepping into a new place and not having a clue how things work. Not having seen family in over six months we weren't about to lose them on the first day.

On our first real family outing we hired a cabby by the name Patience to take us out to the Step Pyramid of Saqqara, the Bent Pyramid of Dahshur and the Great Pyramids of Giza. Patience lived up to his name and drove with composure which is a major feat considering how treacherous the roads are in Cairo. The drivers in Egypt are clinically insane. Lanes are totally disregarded as are all rules related to the road. It is every car, bus, donkey and pedestrian to himself out there. The cars all look as though they just finished a crash derby competition. Patience may have been a drifter and he may have been a tad senile but he got us to every destination safely and that's the best we could have asked for.

The first time I laid eyes on the pyramids I'll admit that I wasn't as blown away by them as I thought I would be. I was a bit turned off by the circus atmosphere of camel and horse jockeys hounding you for a ride around the site. There was no real signage and the grounds were littered with rubbish. Dismayed, I thought I would reserve final judgement until I finished the trip and I am glad that I may that pact with myself. When we returned a week later to the see a laser light show at the pyramids I was humbled by their magnificence. All lit up against the fading sky they just seemed even larger than life. After visiting all the temples and tombs on our cruise it gave me better perspective of the engineering mastery it took to complete such a geometrically sound structure. It was really something magical to sit there with family in the dark and watch the light dance on the pyramids. No family trip to Disneyland could ever compete with that.

It was a maiden voyage for all of us on the cruise so we were all thrilled and a smidge apprehensive at the prospect. Our rooms were larger and more modern than I expected them to be with bathrooms nearly as large as the sleeping quarters. Every time we returned from and outing off the boat we'd find some animal or object cleverly created out of our towels and bedsheets as a gift from our quirky house keeper. The food was copious and delicious and the staff was exemplary with their service. It didn't take long for Matt and I to forgot our days roughing it on the road. It was glorious to sit on the upper deck of the boat and watch the date palms pass by as we played cards, sipped tea and munched on cakes.

Even though I've been an official Zibilich for four years now I still can't manage to beat them at their own card games and it kills me to lose repeatedly. I thought that all my practice with Matt over the last 10 months would ensure me total domination over the rest of the family but together they form a formidable foe with their "lingo" and obvious table talk that I didn't stand a chance at denting their armour. I'd try to get them off their game by trash talking but they were skilled in that department as well. They throw a game here and there for me to boost my confidence but I knew what they are doing, I was on to them. Even though I'm not the best loser, some would even say a sore loser, it was refreshing to have someone else to play with especially when those somebodies were family. Matt and I had exhausted all the two-handed card games we could think of during our travels and wanted nothing more to try our luck with other people.

With so many sights to see from Luxor to Aswan it was great to leave it in the hands of the cruise operators to decide for us. We'd eat our meals on the boat and then would shuttle off via bus or on foot to the nearest temple or tomb before sailing off again to the next destination. The only real draw back was that they gave you plenty of time on board the boat to spend your money on their goods, be it booze or trinkets, but you'd get limited time at the sights to wander around on your own. Sure after the third temple you get alittle overloaded with hieroglyphics but since I didn't come to Egypt to shop I'd much rather spend time absorbing all the sights.
It occured to me that I must have slept through all my history classes because I just had no idea that Egypt had so many brilliantly carved temples and tombs. The sheer quantity, the magnitude and the craftsmanship really blew me away. To my surprise the biggest part of the trip as a whole has not been in the temples or pyramids themselves, rather the grand picture of being in the very place where these monuments stand and getting lay of the surrounding land. It just gives you so much more perspective and for that I am in awe of man's accomplishments that transcend time.

Time zipped by in Egypt and next thing we knew his parents were in a taxi heading to the airport and it was just the two of us alone again. We've been blessed with having friends to stay with during our trip but nothing beats being with family. It's a great time in all of our lives where we truly enjoy each others company and look forward to family get togethers. We didn't need to travel around the world to realize how much we love our families.

Egypt - Crime & Me

Our latest adventure...

Mary and I thought it would be nice to rent an apartment for the month that we were in Cairo. We found a real estate agent on line and he was on several different listing websites. We arranged to rent an apartment from him and wired him a little money to secure the reservation. He was very professional, picked us up at the airport, brought us to the apartment, showed us around, we signed a lease, gave him the months rent and he gave us the key. He tried to get us to pay an insurance deposit, but since we didnt agree to this ahead of time I say no.
We think we are all set an the agent leaves.

About 30 minutes later a 60s something man shows up with his large friend, who was not there to translate. They dont introduce themselves and walk into the apartment. He then tells me that he is the landlord and that he is waiting for Baher to come back. He starts playing with the phone and the tv, smoking cigarettes- making himself at home. Due to the language barrier it takes a while to find out that he wants the rent money. I tell him that the agent has the money and we signed the lease with him. We both try calling the agent, who does not pick up his phone, but it is late at this point, so I figure he turned his phone off to go to bed. After a long discussion,and the landlord telling us to go sleep somewhere else, I agree to pay the security deposit, so that we can stay there and sort it all out in the morning.

The next day I get ahold of the agent and he tells me that he gave the money to the landlord and the landlord is crazy... The landlord comes by again later that day, I call the agent and try to hand the phone to the landlord, but the agent hangs up the phone... and doesnt pick up subsequent calls... The landlord's daughter in law comes by to translate and she states that the way apartment rentals work in Cairo, is that it is not uncommon for the owner and the agent to not know each other, and that the initial contact is over the phone and the owner tells the guard to let the agent in. Our problem was that the guard gave us the key and watched us pay the agent- and never said a word. In the states, possession, is 9/10ths of the law, but when the landlord brings his large friend over, I see little chance of squatting.....

So we go to the tourist police- they are very friendly- they offer us coffee, food (our first real Egyptian meal is with the cops)...We tell our story several different times with the help of a translator and the landlord comes down and corroborates our story. The cops try calling the agent and he repeats that he gave the money to the lanlord, they ask him to come down and straighten it all out- what a surprise, he doesnt show up. After 6 hours we head back to our apartment exhausted.

The next day our luggae finally arrives (another story- it was left in Yemen- a scenic land where we spent 36 hours, because they cancelled our flight- we felt really at home with pictures of Sadaam Hussein all over the places..)...With our suggestion,the cops advise us to set up another email account and do a new apartment request (no internet access at the police station....) We pretend to be George Smith from the UK and the agent takes the bait. We give the cops the flight time and tell the agent to have a sign that says George Smith and have his name (Baher) on the sign as well. The cops take Mary and I in a sedan with two other cops to the airport, accompanied by a sort of pick up truck converted paddy wagon with about 8 cops, and on the way we link up with another paddy wagon. The cops fan out at the airport and then after a bit, they ask Mary and I to try and walk around and ID Baher (as if he wouldnt recognize us and run away???) After awhile we see someone that looks really close, but is not him. The cops ask me to call him, but I remind that he knows my number and will not pick up. So I buy a phone card and use the pay phone to call him, I try my best for a British accent and Baher tells me that he sent an assistant from his office to pick us up. The next minute the cops have a man in handcuffs with the sign just as we had asked- it was even in the same font as Baher used in his emails.

It is quick movement from there to the paddy wagon. I try to get to the one cop who speaks a bit of English, but he is handcuffed to the prisoner and surrounded. I try to suggest that the assistant should tell Baher that he picked up George Smith and they should meet at the apartment- but no luck. We then drive to the Sheraton hotel at the airport, where there is a police office. We sit for hours as they question the "assistant" and fill out their report. I think he tells Baher on the phone that he had an accident or something- we are getting very little info at this point. We then go to a police station for a bit, wait,then go to a court- the scariest, abandonded looking building I have ever seen and are told that we will see the judge and we should speak "small small English", we wait for awhile, never see the judge and then go back to the police station where I think the assistant went to jail. After 10 hours we head home.

A little disappoointed that they didnt get our man we leave 2 days later for our Nile Cruise. 3 days into it, I get a call that the cops arrested our man Baher. After we get back to Cairo, we go back to the police station to ID his picture (not sure which jail he is in, if at all...) So essentially where we are now, is trying to go through the legal system to get our money back. We went to the US Embassy to see if they could put some pressure on the court system to speed up our case. It was remarkable that the police even captured Baher so at this point it's not crazy to think that we could get our money back before we leave next week. We found a law professor who agreed to take our case pro bono because our story "touched him" much liked it "touched" our investigating officer so both men will follow the case on our behalf. Since Baher has done this before he has several charges against him. We have to wait until the criminal case is settled before we can go after our damages in a civil case.

Hanging out for many hours at the police station was priceless, the coffee, the endless food, seeing the interactions of the cops- lots of yelling, lackeys who just wait around to deliver coffee and food, the excitement when just about the whole police station went on the sting with us- giving them advise on how to get Baher to come to the airport, them not having internet...What was also amazing was that they actually had a file on Baher from other people who got ripped off like us, but he is still using the same phone number, website, and bank account. It is amazing that they havent shut him down! Our lawyer is another character in this ever evolving tale. In his cordoroy jacket he would sit at his huge maghony desk relighting his wood pipe while taking his reading glasses off and on jotting down notes regarding our case. The most heartwarming thing about his whole experience is how geniune the cops and the lawyer have been about how sorry they are that we got cheated out of money. They say to us, "this man is not Egypt." Out of this bad experience we've learned more about the greatness of Egyptians than a visit to the pyramids of temples could have ever taught us. We've seen more of Cairo criss crossing the city on our visits the tourist police, the embassy and the lawyer. It's not the way we expected to see Cairo but it has been rewarding to say the least.

The policeman told me that we should write a book- Crime and Me...I think it is kind of a catchy title...Will keep you all posted.

Ethiopia - Land of A Million Mustaches

(Dec. 21-Jan. 24) Little did Matt and I know that when we stepped off the plane in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia what we were really doing was taking a time machine back to the year 1999. The Ethiopian calendar is based on the Orthodox Church calendar which is 7 1/2 years behind the western calendar. There are also 13 months on the Ethiopian calendar compounding the issue even more. Losing the years wasn't nearly as confusing as telling time. The Ethiopian clock is dictated by the rising and setting of the sun. The day starts at 12 o'clock or 6 a.m. farangi time and sets at 12 o'clock or 6 p.m. farangi time. Seven a.m. is 1 o'clock, 8 a.m. is 2 o'clock and so on. On more than one occasion we were duped by the times people would give us so we always had to clarify foreigner time with them, it was annoying to say the least.

Our first full day in Addis did not go well and foreshadowed the rest of the kind of trip we had in store for ourselves. Of the three things we had on our list not one thing got accomplished. We got trailed by some would be pick pockets who still followed us even after we confronted them. People stared at us intensely as we walked down the congested streets. It was unnerving because we couldn't read their blank expressions. We weren't sure whether the bore holes they pierced through us as we passed by were for curious reasons or threatening reasons. It was the first time in our travels that we were actually intimidated by the city and it's inhabitants.

With five weeks to kill in Ethiopia and our finances dwindling what we had an abundance of was time. Our plan was to complete the northern historical circuit of Ethiopia, all 2500 kilometers, by public transport. At a cost of over 100 bucks a day we couldn't afford to experience Ethiopia from the antiseptic spacious interior of the four-wheel drive Land Rovers. What that meant for us was shedding any ounce of dignity we had, debasing ourselves to lows even lower than we ever imagined sinking to. We would rise in the dark of the night between 4 and 5 am and lug our huge packs to the bus station posting up a close to the entrance as possible. Government buses are only allowed to operate during daylight hours between 6am-6pm. Like the running of the bulls in Spain we would wait for the appointed signal, which in our case was the opening of the bus station gates, and with no concern for body or limb we would dash like crazed maniacs to a bus, any bus, heading in the direction we desired. Buying tickets the day before did not exempt us from the chaos of securing a seat, it was every man for himself. Matt , ever the gentleman, got stuck behind an elderly lady when the gates were opened in Woldia and as a result lost me in the mob of people. I had no regard for who got in my way and abandoned all the polite behavior I learned in kindergarten about keeping my hands to myself and standing in line patiently. I bribed one kid for his seats and paid another to wake up at 4am to save us a place. With only one bus a day it's do or die and I wasn't about to straddle my bags in the aisle or sit on the roof of the bus with the goats.

The buses would get filled in under five minutes yet it would take another hour before we actually left the parking lot. There we would sit inhaling the diesel fumes spewing out from 15 other buses preparing to leave. We'd get lightheaded from the rush of blood and gases to the brain. The seats on the bus were spaced at a distance that even a contortionist would feel uncomfortable with. Warped tapes were blasted over the blown-out speakers and even with ear plugs there was no tuning out the voices singing off tune and underwater. It was totally acceptable and dare I say even considered rude if you didn't litter your trash on the floor.

The only rule on the bus that was militantly observed was keeping the windows shut. We've heard several theories as to why the windows need to stay shut during the ride such as you will catch your death from the wind, the wind will make you sick but my personal favorite was robbers may try to enter the moving bus through the windows. That's sound logic I just can't argue. Matt and I totally understand keeping the windows shut in the morning when it's cold outside because Ethiopia gets down right frigid when the sun goes down. What makes no sense at all is when it's the middle of the day and it's at least 80 degrees outside and the bus is baking from 60 plus bodies sweating and car sickness sets in and a couple of people start vomiting on the floor. If you even reach for a window after somebody has lost their lunch you are practically lynched by the other passengers. I thought Matt was going to lose his mind when a woman across the aisle vomited three times just during the morning leg of the trip and not one window was cracked. In a mocking tone he stood up in the aisle and asked the other passengers if they enjoyed the smell of vomit. They just nodded their heads and passed more barf bags around.

For all my gripes about Ethiopia, and I have many, what I can't find fault with is how beautiful and diverse the landscape is. Even as you read this blog you're probably imagining the Ethiopia of the 1980s that was devastated by drought and famine but that's not what the country looks like at all. In actuality it has some of the most magnificent mountain ranges in all of Africa. The first stop on our historical circuit was at the source of the Nile River at Lake Tana. On the quiet shores of the lake you could mediate over the colorful biblical murals in one of the many orthodox monasteries or you could spend the day identifying some of the exotic birds that call the lake home. I enjoyed taking a ferry boat to the Zege Peninsula and watching the sun rise over the water as men in papyrus boats rowed slowly past us. Our self-guided tour took us to the castle of Gonder considered Africa's Camelot. From there we marveled in the mystery of an ancient people who defied gravity and raised massive stone obelisks to honor their dead in the rocky plains of Aksum. The stelae fields of Aksum are historically very significant but being the resting place of the Arc of the Covenant, better known in the secular world as the Ten Commandments, makes it an important religious site as well.

Our journey lead us south to the rock-hewn churches of Tigray and Lalibela. Visiting the churches combined exercise with aesthetics as we would have to hike, climb and scale rock walls in order to access the churches. One church, Abuna Yemata, required some nerves of steel on our part. With our entourage of two guides, one priest, four random kids, an old man and a teenage girl to round off the motley crew, all of whom materialized out of no where just to "walk with us," we carefully griped ancient toe-holds formed from the feet and hands of priests. We then balanced across a ledge with a 200-meter sheer drop to the bottom floor. The views were outstanding and you really got a sense of why they headed the spiritual call to that spot because not only were you literally closer to God you just had to look out over the vastness and magnificence of the world so far below. The tiny church itself was magnificently adorned with murals furthering our appreciation for the dedication of the faithful.

Lalibela was the true gem of Ethiopia. There are 11 rock-hewn churches that were carved out of solid rock within a quarter mile of each other. It's almost unfathomable to believe that they were able to see a giant hunk of stone and carve down 45 feet and create a house of God complete with pillars, windows, fresco's and alters. Our pass gave us unlimited access to the churches during our stay in Lalibela. You needed to visit the churches a few times to grasp their greatness. One morning we just sat inside a church and let the chants and drum beats from the worshipping priests envelope us in tranquility.

Our tranquility was quickly torn to shreds as soon as we left the inner sanctum and rejoined the outside world. Matt and I had been hardened from our time in Cambodia, Vietnam and even Madagascar. We were accustomed to beggars and sobs stories and thought we could handle anything harassment that came our way. We were no match for Ethiopia. We started off chatting it up with anyone that would greet us but found that inevitably the conversation would turn towards money and guilt, endless guilt. We changed our tactics daily either trying to keep it light with people or we'd pretend to speak Spanish as a means to buffer ourselves from the demands for pens, books and money. We would get temporary relief but the underline frustration for us was still there. We stood out, we were targets and everyone was taking aim. Day in and day out we heard, "give me, give me, GIVE ME!" and it broke us. On rare occasions a child would just light up if we said hello and we'd cherish the sweet innocence of those kids. The majority of Ethiopians live in a poverty I have never known so I can't blame them for wanting what I have. What killed both of our spirits was the lack of honesty. Many people would tell us elaborate stories to pull on our heart strings and unfortunately it was hard to differentiate between legitimate woes and tall tales. It's not easy being on the road for 8 months and finding fresh ways to deal with need and guilt.

Eating and drinking our way through Ethiopia was criminally cheap. We could eat a huge plate of injera topped with shiro tegabino (sour pancakes with curried chick peas) and wolf it down with an ice cold local beer for just under two dollars. We'd leave a 10 birr tip the equivalent to one dollar and were considered monster tippers. I would get a shot of espresso or a steaming macchiato for 11 cents. We fell in love with their freshly squeezed mango, pineapple, orange, guava and even avocado juices all for the low low price of 33 cents.

Mora Mora in Madagascar Part II

So I am a wee bit behind on our travels. Finding an internet cafe with a decent connection in Africa is nearly impossible. Mix dial up connection with a large dash of power outages sprinkled with some overpriced hourly rates and you get a unsavory dish of pure frustration.

Last I left off we had become blood thirsty savages feasting on the spoils of our sacrificed turkeys. Despite our savagery we had become too soft in Tana and needed to experience the thrills of the open road again. We not only wanted the challenge of the unknown we also wanted to get a flavor for the true Madagascar outside of the bubble world of diplomatic life. We should have just stayed home and nibbled on the exquisite local chocolate that Sugar Daddy brought us home after work. But no, we wanted to be super stars and brave public transport all the way to the south to a city called Toliare.

As soon as we left Aaron's apartment and hit the road for ourselves our trip in Madagascar took on a whole new dimension. We were no longer tourists but warriors locked in an epic battle of wits.To say it was us verses the Malagasy would be going too far. Madagascar is a country that has few if any predators in the animal kingdom and the people have naturally adopted a non-predatory attitude. Madagascar has alot to offer a tourist with their national parks and dancing lemurs but they also offer quite a few pitfalls . There are plenty of organized tours that are getting fat off the spoils of the holiday traveller looking for an exotic trip. Since Matt and I were travelling on a tight budget we were in a different realm of travel being preyed upon by hustlers who have tactics that are not quite as refined as the slick packaged tour guides.

What also made the second part of our trip tricky was money. Madagascar was banking nightmare for us. Our ATM card didn't work! After 7 months on the road it was the first country where we couldn't just walk up to a ATM machine and pull out dough any time we wanted. We tried to wire money to ourselves over Western Union but they won't allow you to wire yourself money. There are few if any places in the capital that actually take credit card, cash reigns supreme, so we didn't have our plastic to fall back on. We felt like complete idiots for not checking ahead on the money situation and we assumed like everywhere else in the modern world that ATMs would be as plentiful as Pringles. Luckily for us Aaron loaned us some cashola for the road so we had to be extremely frugal with our spending habits or risk getting stranded with no money.

Did I mention the fact that Madagascar is a French speaking country and that neither Matt or myself speaks French? Well, I do speak some French. I don't actually speak French as much as I understand that I have no idea what people are saying to me and can't conjugate a verb to save my life. Matt speaks the universal language of money and knows enough to flash money in front of people to get what he needs. Besides we've found that if there's money to be made from a foreigner someone will come out of the wood work speaking just enough English to help us out of a jam. And we were in plenty of jams during our time in Madagascar. We've found in our travels that people are mostly forgiving of us if we at least attempt to speak their language even if we butcher the life out of the words. Keeping it lighthearted is the key to any interaction.

Our days were spent squeezing into mini-vans with 14 of our closest friends some of which had a unique fragrance of campfire sweetened with body odor which with closed windows made for a noxiously fun ride. The roads in Madagascar are some of the best we've seen anywhere in our travels but that doesn't say anything about the drivers who are some of the most reckless maniacs we have ever witnessed on four wheels. What astounded us most was not necessarily how many people could fit inside the mini-vans but the amazing ability the drivers and touts had for stacking bags, boxes, electronics, produce and just about anything under the sun on top of the vans at heights double that of the vans themselves. They had a pure gift for defying gravity.

We visited three national parks that were wildly different in their climate and landscape. Our first stop was at a rain forest park called Ranomafana. We power walked in circles with a German man we met on the mini-van through the park looking for lemurs in the rain. We stayed an extra day in the little outpost town just to soak our bodies in the hot water springs. We then booked a two day trek to the second highest peak in Madagascar, Pic Bobby, and with our shoeless sherpa and waif woman guide we charged up to the top to see some of the most awe-inspiring views, when the clouds we're hovering below us to block out line of vision, and bask in unspoiled land that lay so far down below us. Our final park was in the high desert at Isalo where the sky seemed to have no beginning and no end. There we finally laid eyes on the ring-tailed lemur the official mascot of Madagascar. We rounded off our journey down south on the beaches of Ifaty where the water was too hot to even enjoy entering. The hundreds of pink jellyfish were a bit of deterrent too.

On our way to Toliare from the beach the truck we were traveling in broke down twice. Thanks to a pen, a rubber tube, an empty water bottle, alittle tape and some tough stomaches they were able to MacGyver the car and deliver us safely into town. There we caught a flight back up to Tana. We were beat down from our days on the road and relieved to get a few more days of pampering with our good friend.

Kenya

(Dec.13-21) We were given dire warnings by several friends and strangers to be cautious in Nairobi, Kenya. With a nickname like Nai-robby, we had general cause for alarm but we were too excited at the prospect of speaking English again that we were willing to take our chances. Kenya was just a stop over for us on our way to Ethiopia and as a result we only had a week cram in whatever sights we could which for us meant going on a safari. It was significantly cheaper for us to book the safari once in Kenya so we made arrangements to go to the magnificent Masai Mara and lovely Lake Nakuru to see none other than the big five.

As a young child I remember watching the television series, Shaka Zulu, and was completely enamored with Africa. The umbrella-like acacia trees dotting the vast Serengeti with the occasional giraffe and zebra herds roaming around electrified my imagination. My sole reason for joining the Peace Corps and accepting a post in Africa was because of the visions I had of the continent. Africa mystified me. Subsaharan Senegal was not the Africa of my dreams. It lacked the grandeur of my imaged Africa. It was dry, brown and devoid of animals save the stray dog or mangy cat. Touching down on the Kenyan soil I was finally embracing the Africa my heart longed for and it felt good, otherworldly good.

Our visit to Kenya coincided with their rainy season turning the roads from dusty potholes to thick slippery black holes of death. Our driver, nicknamed the Animal, was a master in maneuvering the most impassible and impossible roads. Preferring a two-wheel drive to a four-wheel drive, because the 4WD tend to get stuck and sink in the mud more frequently, the Animal made the drivers in the Dakar Rally look like they were riding on bicycles with training wheels. I can't even explain let alone comprehend how he would rock the van back and forth and bounce out of the mud holes. It was pure genius and we felt honored and a bit terrified to have him as our guide.

The Animal took us for a late afternoon game drive in the Masai Mara where we happened upon a pride of 13 lions resting on a small mound. Before we knew it the mother lion was off on the pursuit of a pregnant wildebeest. Fortunately for us she placed her catch right next to the road so we got to watch as the entire pride feasted on the wildebeest just feet away from our van. The sound of 13 lions eating is without a doubt one of the most frightening and thrilling sounds I have ever heard. To see the chase, the kill and then the feast was truly something special. The Animal explained that it's never as easy as what we witnessed. Lions make a kill and munch in privacy away from the flashing cameras of tourists.

The Animal said that looking out over the Masai Mara game reserve you behold one of the seven natural wonders of the world and I believe him wholeheartedly. To see families of elephants lumbering lazily along in the wild is unreal. We'd come across fields filled with several types of gazelles, wildebeests, zebras, ostriches, giraffes and waterbuffalos and you just couldn't believe that all the animals you see cooped up in the zoo could cohabitate so freely and harmoniously. We even saw two lions lounging up in a tree something the Animal said in his 17 years as a guide he's only seen 3 times. Going on a safari was one of the greatest and most life affirming moments in my life. Truly and experience of a lifetime and even better because I had my best friend next to me marveling in the beauty of my dream, my destiny, my Africa.