In his acclaimed novel Walden, Thoreau calls for us to return to nature and advises us to “Simplify, simplify” as a means to cleanse our lives. I’ve had this book on my list for years and only started reading it this week. Maybe it found its way to me at this junction in time as part of some cosmic design. Maybe it’s kismet, or perhaps it’s just dumb luck and random coincidence. Whatever the case may be, it couldn’t have come to me at a more appropriate time. Allow me to explain:
Ten days ago my bus pulled up to the GVI base in Karongwe Game Reserve, the place I’ll call home until mid-August. We pulled up to the bunkhouse just as the sun set, and my fellow expedition members and I concluded that this would be no vacation. For starters the place was dark as the small solar panel out front was no longer of use in the early African evening. And, the generator out back can only provide enough electricity for our necessities like the refrigerator and the computer from which I am typing to you (it’s supposed to be used to enter data from the expedition, but if we finish our work early we can shoot off an email or two.) Not to worry though, we all have headlamps to light our way to the bathroom and to ensure that we spot pests like snakes, mice or whatever other nuisance crawled into the house. During the last expedition, someone forgot to close a door and a hyena walked in, not good.
We all sleep in one dorm in bunk beds, which I can tell horrified the sorority girl who sleeps in the bunk below me (As a chivalrous guy, I offered to take the top bunk). As long as I have my earplugs and eye mask I am good to go. The only thing that concerned me is the fear of ripping one in my sleep, but then I thought, “Who are they gonna tell?”
The place is rather Spartan, a simple concrete structure that looks kinda like a prison in some sense. It’s low tech, we wash clothes by hand and have to get hot water from the side of the house to do our dishes in a tub. We operate like a quasi hippie commune complete with a division of labor and smelly people. Peoples’ belongings are strewn about and we share most everything. It’s actually quite nice.
The daily routine can be quite gruelling at times. The day starts before sun up at ~5AM but there can be quite a bit of down time too. To pass the time and entertain myself, I persuaded the seven other guys to join me in a moustache pact. Basically we all agreed to grow them over the next 5 weeks and not shave, the more ridiculous the better. As I type to you I’m rockin a James Hetfield style handlebar complete with soul patch. One of the women said, “You look like a pedophile or a porn star.” To which I replied, “Or?” While I do look like a moron, I was trumped earlier today by Stuart, who grew muttonchops connecting to his moustache (Crap!).
I wish I could post pictures, but the infrastructure here in the bush is limited and I am lucky to be able to get this post out at all.
Now for the business part, here’s what I am doing out here on a game reserve in Africa. The first few days were dedicated to training, it felt good to get back into an academic curriculum. Plus, I am now able to tell the difference between 7 different varieties of antelope by species, age and sex. And, I can identify a good 10 species of animal by their poop and tracks.
The experience has been amazing, I go on 1-2 game drives a day lasting approximately 4 hours a drive. It is our duty to track animals to identify their location, if and what they have eaten and observe their behavior. Inputting these data in to databases allows the Reserve Manager to identify trends, determine the best way to manage the reserve and publish papers to help other reserves optimize their populations.
While it is difficult to articulate, I can best describe the experience, as “It’s everything you’d dream wild Africa to be.” This week alone; I’ve been charged by a bull elephant in musth (it’s like being in heat for dudes), I’ve saw a black mane lion carrying a Kudu to his family then eat it. I’ve seen baby everything; lions, hyenas, giraffes, cheetahs, zebras, elephants. There’ve been crocodiles, impala, kudu, civets, bush babies, leopards, etc. We have a leopard, Shiloweni, who lost his canine teeth while trying to chew his way out of a farmer’s trap. They are making him implants and we’ve been told that we will sit in on the surgery. As a bonus, the Discovery Channel will be on hand filming a documentary. Cool!
Beyond the game drives the animals and living like a flower child of the sixties, I’ve had some other great experiences too. I won the giraffe poop spiting contest (for all of you who have told me to eat shit…actually I only spat it). I volunteered to have scorpion put on my face and I held a tarantula (I HATE SPIDERS!!!) I figured I didn’t quit my job, give up a sweet Hoboken pad and fly 18,000 miles away to play it safe. I’ve taken up a philosophy of taste life (and giraffe shit) I figure, when will I get these opportunities again?
I do have to say Thoreau seems to be right. Life is simpler, my soul feels cleaner. Now if I only read the damn book 2 months ago I could have gone to New Hampshire and saved myself butt-loads of money. I’ll be back with another post in a few weeks, hopefully with some pics. I’ve got tons of awesome shots.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
WILDLIFE!...reserve
So I never did make it to East London as I mentioned in my previous post. Due to some crazy bus schedules and high fuel prices I wound up back in Cape Town, back at Paul's. It wasn't a total loss though as I helped Paul maintain - as he calls it - his "stasis of post-collegiate hedonism." Let me explain; Paul will be 42 next month, he doesn't work, he mainly does what he wants to do on his schedule. God I admire him for it.
Now allow me to illustrate: The scene is last Saturday July 5th, 4:00 PM. I am sitting on the couch reading my book and in enters Paul.
PAUL: Hey Chris, was Lawrence of Arabia raped in prison?
CHRIS: I don't know, I never saw the movie.
PAUL: No, I mean the actual guy. He spent time in a Turkish prison, don't guys get raped in Turkish prisons.
CHRIS: (inner monologue, "Lawrence of Arabia was a real guy?") I'm not sure, I believe rape is a service provided in all prisons regardless of if they are Turkish or not. Why do you ask?
PAUL: Dave's party is a costume party and the theme is famous traitors and revolutionaries. I have this sweet costume I bought when I was in Turkey so I'm going as Lawrence of Arabia.
CHRIS: When is the party (thinking it was next week)?
PAUL: At 5 tonight.
CHRIS: Am I invited? And who's Dave?
PAUL: Yeah come along. Dave is the British guy from the other night.
CHRIS: Oh yeah, he's a cool guy. What am I supposed to wear? (thanks for the advanced notice)
PAUL: Oh, the guy who owned my flat before me in 2001 was in the navy or some shit, he left a bag full of uniforms and shit in the attic.
Paul walks out for a moment, returns with a ladder then ascends through the attic hatch. Thirty seconds later a big duffel bag falls from the ceiling and hits the floor with a resounding thud accompanied by a cloud of dust. Like when the Wile E. Coyote hits the desert floor. I'm thinking, "There is no way in hell I'm putting anything in that crusty bag on, there's gotta be some toxic mold or ebola in it (this is Africa)"
But after looking through the bag and closely sniffing the garments for deadly pathogens (great way to detect them by the way) I found the perfect ticket. Along with a cheesy drawn on mustache and that little bottom chin hair thing that douche bags grow in, I was ready to rock. Here we are heading to the party.
Now I have no idea what type of uniform I was wearing; FARC rebel, neo-nazi, a member of the South African Village People, but I need the answer to the question, "Who are you supposed to be." Scanning the hilarious part of my brain that houses my wit I came up with, "I'm a deserter from the Salvation Army." Lucky for me the Salvation Army is an International organization so no translation or explanations were necessary. Everyone understood clearly that I'm a putz with a corny sense of humor.
Dave's party started at 5, and quickly filled with tons of people. By 4:30 in the morning, I was DJing, a water fight had been going strong until someone broke out the garden hose in the living room and Paul was nowhere to be found.
In the next 20 minutes he reappeared having been on the upstairs balcony "meditating" as he proclaimed to be doing. I imagine the mantra he repeated was something close to "Blaaaaachhhh!" As we headed out I made plans to rent a car and visit wine country with Anthony (pronounced On-Toe-Knee), a French guy who is a friend of Paul's friend's friend (making him a friend of a friend's, friend's, friend of mine).
The next morning I woke up and I knew instantly that I would not be going wine tasting, nor renting a car. Then again it wasn't morning either, more like late afternoon. So I took the day to reflect. I thought how arbitrary is it that I just dropped in on these peoples' lives. If I never left the US all of this would have gone on with out me. I thought of the nuances I've incorporated into my diet and language. Do you know that they call traffic lights robots here? I saw a sign a few day earlier that said "Robot 100M ahead" I thought, "Awesome!" as I expected to see C3PO thumbing a ride up ahead... what a let down. Then I thought, my head is pounding, I need to curtail the partying, it's been non-stop since I left, I think I may be dying.
So with Sunday as a recovery day I decided to head to near by Stellenbosch on Monday with Anthony for some mild wine tasting and to get out of Paul's apartment. We had a map with a nice country route plotted along with a place to stop for lunch. While it was rainy, the landscape was beautiful.
We took turns driving and almost running angry fist shaking locals off the road. Who drives on the left side of the road? Over the 4 hours we only stopped at one winery, to be honest I was not in the drinking mood and there was something odd about going wine tasting with another dude.
It would have made for the perfect afternoon with a female companion (there's a bunch of guest houses and B&B's in the area), but Anthony, or Tony as I defaulted to, being from Jersey, was just fine. I enjoyed a nice ride through the country, driving a car for the first time in weeks and my conversation with Anthony. He is a laser welder that makes precision parts for Formula 1 race cars and jet planes.
We got back to Cape Town and headed to the water front for another cafe and some coffee. The next morning (Tuesday) I packed my stuff, headed to the airport and flew to Johannesburg or Jo'burg as the cool kids call it here.
I'm staying with Iris with whom I've been friends with since 6th grade. I'd post a picture but I haven't taken one yet and she is in the shower right now and probably wouldn't appreciate the intrusion. While she went to work yesterday I went to the Apartheid museum. I highly recommend you visit if you are ever in the Jo'burg area. It was sad and somber but informative and uplifting. It really helped to put much of my South African experience into context.
In closing, Thanks to Kelly the web chick back at Quest for teaching me how to track my blog. My last entry with the shark vid was wildly popular. In fact, the blog as a whole is attracting way more people than I know. If you were expecting some wild kingdom shots in this post rather than my musings into my; decent into alcoholism, hedonism and veiled homophobia I apologize.
I am heading into the bush tomorrow to embark on my 5 week volunteer project to track top level predators (lions, leopards, hyenas and wild dogs), so the next post should have some sweet pics and videos like the last one.
Now allow me to illustrate: The scene is last Saturday July 5th, 4:00 PM. I am sitting on the couch reading my book and in enters Paul.
PAUL: Hey Chris, was Lawrence of Arabia raped in prison?
CHRIS: I don't know, I never saw the movie.
PAUL: No, I mean the actual guy. He spent time in a Turkish prison, don't guys get raped in Turkish prisons.
CHRIS: (inner monologue, "Lawrence of Arabia was a real guy?") I'm not sure, I believe rape is a service provided in all prisons regardless of if they are Turkish or not. Why do you ask?
PAUL: Dave's party is a costume party and the theme is famous traitors and revolutionaries. I have this sweet costume I bought when I was in Turkey so I'm going as Lawrence of Arabia.
CHRIS: When is the party (thinking it was next week)?
PAUL: At 5 tonight.
CHRIS: Am I invited? And who's Dave?
PAUL: Yeah come along. Dave is the British guy from the other night.
CHRIS: Oh yeah, he's a cool guy. What am I supposed to wear? (thanks for the advanced notice)
PAUL: Oh, the guy who owned my flat before me in 2001 was in the navy or some shit, he left a bag full of uniforms and shit in the attic.
Paul walks out for a moment, returns with a ladder then ascends through the attic hatch. Thirty seconds later a big duffel bag falls from the ceiling and hits the floor with a resounding thud accompanied by a cloud of dust. Like when the Wile E. Coyote hits the desert floor. I'm thinking, "There is no way in hell I'm putting anything in that crusty bag on, there's gotta be some toxic mold or ebola in it (this is Africa)"
But after looking through the bag and closely sniffing the garments for deadly pathogens (great way to detect them by the way) I found the perfect ticket. Along with a cheesy drawn on mustache and that little bottom chin hair thing that douche bags grow in, I was ready to rock. Here we are heading to the party.
Now I have no idea what type of uniform I was wearing; FARC rebel, neo-nazi, a member of the South African Village People, but I need the answer to the question, "Who are you supposed to be." Scanning the hilarious part of my brain that houses my wit I came up with, "I'm a deserter from the Salvation Army." Lucky for me the Salvation Army is an International organization so no translation or explanations were necessary. Everyone understood clearly that I'm a putz with a corny sense of humor.
Dave's party started at 5, and quickly filled with tons of people. By 4:30 in the morning, I was DJing, a water fight had been going strong until someone broke out the garden hose in the living room and Paul was nowhere to be found.
In the next 20 minutes he reappeared having been on the upstairs balcony "meditating" as he proclaimed to be doing. I imagine the mantra he repeated was something close to "Blaaaaachhhh!" As we headed out I made plans to rent a car and visit wine country with Anthony (pronounced On-Toe-Knee), a French guy who is a friend of Paul's friend's friend (making him a friend of a friend's, friend's, friend of mine).
The next morning I woke up and I knew instantly that I would not be going wine tasting, nor renting a car. Then again it wasn't morning either, more like late afternoon. So I took the day to reflect. I thought how arbitrary is it that I just dropped in on these peoples' lives. If I never left the US all of this would have gone on with out me. I thought of the nuances I've incorporated into my diet and language. Do you know that they call traffic lights robots here? I saw a sign a few day earlier that said "Robot 100M ahead" I thought, "Awesome!" as I expected to see C3PO thumbing a ride up ahead... what a let down. Then I thought, my head is pounding, I need to curtail the partying, it's been non-stop since I left, I think I may be dying.
So with Sunday as a recovery day I decided to head to near by Stellenbosch on Monday with Anthony for some mild wine tasting and to get out of Paul's apartment. We had a map with a nice country route plotted along with a place to stop for lunch. While it was rainy, the landscape was beautiful.
We took turns driving and almost running angry fist shaking locals off the road. Who drives on the left side of the road? Over the 4 hours we only stopped at one winery, to be honest I was not in the drinking mood and there was something odd about going wine tasting with another dude.
It would have made for the perfect afternoon with a female companion (there's a bunch of guest houses and B&B's in the area), but Anthony, or Tony as I defaulted to, being from Jersey, was just fine. I enjoyed a nice ride through the country, driving a car for the first time in weeks and my conversation with Anthony. He is a laser welder that makes precision parts for Formula 1 race cars and jet planes.
We got back to Cape Town and headed to the water front for another cafe and some coffee. The next morning (Tuesday) I packed my stuff, headed to the airport and flew to Johannesburg or Jo'burg as the cool kids call it here.
I'm staying with Iris with whom I've been friends with since 6th grade. I'd post a picture but I haven't taken one yet and she is in the shower right now and probably wouldn't appreciate the intrusion. While she went to work yesterday I went to the Apartheid museum. I highly recommend you visit if you are ever in the Jo'burg area. It was sad and somber but informative and uplifting. It really helped to put much of my South African experience into context.
In closing, Thanks to Kelly the web chick back at Quest for teaching me how to track my blog. My last entry with the shark vid was wildly popular. In fact, the blog as a whole is attracting way more people than I know. If you were expecting some wild kingdom shots in this post rather than my musings into my; decent into alcoholism, hedonism and veiled homophobia I apologize.
I am heading into the bush tomorrow to embark on my 5 week volunteer project to track top level predators (lions, leopards, hyenas and wild dogs), so the next post should have some sweet pics and videos like the last one.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Swimming with Great White Trash
I write to you from an internet cafe in Hermanus (Hair-man-oos) South Africa. This place is beautiful, set along the southern coast on the Indian Ocean where the mountains meet the sea. The vistas are breath taking and so vast it's impossible to describe or capture on film. I've spent a good amount of time hiking the rocks along the beach and watching Southern Right Whales breach a few hundred yards of shore (OK meters, man this metric thing is a pain in the ass) .
Hermanus is famous for whale watching and cage diving with Great Whites in near by Gaansbai (don't ask me how to pronounce that one) . The purpose of my stop here was to fulfill a life long dream of diving with the top of the food chain himself the Great White Shark. My dream has been fulfilled and here's a picture and a video (I'm mouthing "WOW!")
After spending some time with these giant predators you realize that there is nothing vicious or frightening about them (Yeah, that's easy to say when your in a reinforced shark cage) they seem docile almost dopey, swimming around as to say ,"You through fish blood in the water? OK here I am what's up...oh a giant hunk of tuna...do-dee-do-dee-do" Kind of like if you were to ring the dinner bell. I would walk over sniffing the air saying ,"Hey is that pizza? awesome!" (those of you who know of my lactose intolerance know that sadly I can't eat pizza anymore)
Speaking of intolerance, the locals here are something else. The town of Hermanus is a resort type place with shops and restaurants geared for tourists.
However it's winter down here so I'm one of few non-locals around. The backpackers (or hostile as you may call it) I'm staying at has a bar which is a local jaunt. It's a working class blue collar type of place. And while the people have their charm, the place is rife with racism, you wouldn't believe some of the things that come out of these people's mouths! Last night I had a grime covered guy "Andy" who looks like Don Vito (Bam Margera's uncle...Google it if you aren't familiar) buy me a birthday drink at midnight (oh yeah it's my birthday) as he told me in his broken Afrikaans accent that he wants to move to the states, Mississippi so he can join the KKK. Ah yes we all have aspirations. So you'll understand that when I was asked, "Are you Jewish". I said "hell no!"
But there have been a few gems like Gail and Mark
They met and fell in love on the internet. She is from Tennessee and he is from South Africa. After realizing that CT was Cape Town and not Connecticut, Gail found Africa on the map (having never left Tennessee) and moved here 6 years ago. The two work at a travel/computer shop around the corner and have adopted me as their American compadre. I've spend quite a few pints talking with them at the end of the bar.
Understanding that I am a guest here, I maintain my manors and just nod as many spew their political and racist rhetoric. It's not my place, although as many of you like Sapienza know, I love arguing with morons. I do have to say that in spite of their ways, the locals have been very warm and welcoming, choosing to speak English rather than Afrikaans regardless of how bad their English is.
I don't want to paint the people of SA in a poor light, I am only referring to the group of locals who populate the bar in the place I'm staying at. To the contrary, the folks in Cape Town were very worldly and metropolitan. I met some great folks like Paul who is friends with my friend Iris. He reminds me a great deal of Jakes, my friend in Amsterdam.
He picked me up from the airport and hosted me in his apartment (flat) for 4 days. He not only opened his home to me, but he opened his life. He introduced me to his friends, took us to the Cape of Good Hope, Table Mountain and enabled me to live like a Cape Townian rather than a tourist. I was invited for a proper home cooked dinner at his friends house.
Paul is an American who's been living in Cape Town for the past 10 years and a very adventurous traveler. He's lived on almost every continent and over dinner on my last night in Cape Town he shared his amazing and horrific story of getting caught in the tsunami while staying on the beach in Thailand. Having been swept out to sea and having had his clothes ripped off and having lost friends during the ordeal, Paul has a very centered view of the event and himself. I give him tons of credit, while It makes for a sexy story "Hey I was in the tsunami" it is something I would never wish on anyone. He has been instrumental in helping me plan my trip, sharing his experiences and insights. Thanks again man, if you ever decide to return to the states you've got a place to crash.
I am having a great time on the road. Again the people are great, the scenery is awe inspiring and my soul is soaring. I am off to East London shortly to begin seeing what the local Afrikaans call "the real Africa" I believe that's the one that comes to mind when someone says Africa, with the lions and tribesmen and all. It's tough to load pictures from here but I should have complete albums up in the next week or so.
Til then here's a few
Ostriches at the Cape of Good Hope
Cape Town from the top of Table Mountain (elevation 1000 M)
Hermanus is famous for whale watching and cage diving with Great Whites in near by Gaansbai (don't ask me how to pronounce that one) . The purpose of my stop here was to fulfill a life long dream of diving with the top of the food chain himself the Great White Shark. My dream has been fulfilled and here's a picture and a video (I'm mouthing "WOW!")
After spending some time with these giant predators you realize that there is nothing vicious or frightening about them (Yeah, that's easy to say when your in a reinforced shark cage) they seem docile almost dopey, swimming around as to say ,"You through fish blood in the water? OK here I am what's up...oh a giant hunk of tuna...do-dee-do-dee-do" Kind of like if you were to ring the dinner bell. I would walk over sniffing the air saying ,"Hey is that pizza? awesome!" (those of you who know of my lactose intolerance know that sadly I can't eat pizza anymore)
Speaking of intolerance, the locals here are something else. The town of Hermanus is a resort type place with shops and restaurants geared for tourists.
However it's winter down here so I'm one of few non-locals around. The backpackers (or hostile as you may call it) I'm staying at has a bar which is a local jaunt. It's a working class blue collar type of place. And while the people have their charm, the place is rife with racism, you wouldn't believe some of the things that come out of these people's mouths! Last night I had a grime covered guy "Andy" who looks like Don Vito (Bam Margera's uncle...Google it if you aren't familiar) buy me a birthday drink at midnight (oh yeah it's my birthday) as he told me in his broken Afrikaans accent that he wants to move to the states, Mississippi so he can join the KKK. Ah yes we all have aspirations. So you'll understand that when I was asked, "Are you Jewish". I said "hell no!"
But there have been a few gems like Gail and Mark
They met and fell in love on the internet. She is from Tennessee and he is from South Africa. After realizing that CT was Cape Town and not Connecticut, Gail found Africa on the map (having never left Tennessee) and moved here 6 years ago. The two work at a travel/computer shop around the corner and have adopted me as their American compadre. I've spend quite a few pints talking with them at the end of the bar.
Understanding that I am a guest here, I maintain my manors and just nod as many spew their political and racist rhetoric. It's not my place, although as many of you like Sapienza know, I love arguing with morons. I do have to say that in spite of their ways, the locals have been very warm and welcoming, choosing to speak English rather than Afrikaans regardless of how bad their English is.
I don't want to paint the people of SA in a poor light, I am only referring to the group of locals who populate the bar in the place I'm staying at. To the contrary, the folks in Cape Town were very worldly and metropolitan. I met some great folks like Paul who is friends with my friend Iris. He reminds me a great deal of Jakes, my friend in Amsterdam.
He picked me up from the airport and hosted me in his apartment (flat) for 4 days. He not only opened his home to me, but he opened his life. He introduced me to his friends, took us to the Cape of Good Hope, Table Mountain and enabled me to live like a Cape Townian rather than a tourist. I was invited for a proper home cooked dinner at his friends house.
Paul is an American who's been living in Cape Town for the past 10 years and a very adventurous traveler. He's lived on almost every continent and over dinner on my last night in Cape Town he shared his amazing and horrific story of getting caught in the tsunami while staying on the beach in Thailand. Having been swept out to sea and having had his clothes ripped off and having lost friends during the ordeal, Paul has a very centered view of the event and himself. I give him tons of credit, while It makes for a sexy story "Hey I was in the tsunami" it is something I would never wish on anyone. He has been instrumental in helping me plan my trip, sharing his experiences and insights. Thanks again man, if you ever decide to return to the states you've got a place to crash.
I am having a great time on the road. Again the people are great, the scenery is awe inspiring and my soul is soaring. I am off to East London shortly to begin seeing what the local Afrikaans call "the real Africa" I believe that's the one that comes to mind when someone says Africa, with the lions and tribesmen and all. It's tough to load pictures from here but I should have complete albums up in the next week or so.
Til then here's a few
Ostriches at the Cape of Good Hope
Cape Town from the top of Table Mountain (elevation 1000 M)
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