Welcome to India, Hooooo-Leeeeee-COW!!!!

Duality... Love:Hate, Rich:Poor, Give:Take.

At the same time, India is the greatest and the worst place in the world. In the week and a half since my arrival it's been a roller coaster. The pendulum swings at a moments notice and no matter what side it lands on the results are always overwhelming. Regardless of any advice given prior to arrival, nothing can truly prepare one for their first time in India, you just have to jump in.

Here in India the people are warm and friendly and religion is extremely important to them and pervades everything. But on the flip side a few people have what we in the west would consider an integrity issue. For instance, upon my arrival while checking in to my Delhi hotel, I asked for an internet cafe. With the warmest congeniality my host offered a free computer and had me walked across the street to "the office". There Mr. Javid (rhymes with Dickweed not David) offered me tea (exactly what I want in sweltering 90 degree heat) and pleasant conversation. Coincidently, "the office" happened to be a travel agency and after a bait and switcheroo I was out $650 and off on a 9-day excursion through Rajasthan in 4-star accommodations with my own personal driver, Raj. I was livid 1) This was ~3X my budget 2) How did "I" get taken. 3) I just cultivated an amazing gypsy backpacker lifestyle, following serendipity to where ever she would take me. But now Mr. Javid absconded with my money and my Bohemian ideology leaving me a Philistine tourist. I got buffaloed.

So full of rage and feeling violated I set out with Raj for our first stop, Jaipur.

"So, Raj are you originally from Delhi?"
"Yes, Delhi"
"Cool, cool. So how long have you been driving?"
"Yes drive"
"So what's your view on the designated hitter rule in the American League (that's a baseball reference ladies)"
"Yes? You American?"
(Internal voice) "F'ing great! 9 days with a driver who doesn't speak English"

But with his limited English and through out what ended up being a 5 day trip (I got more than half my money back. Ask me about it later, great story) Raj kept saying "You my brother" while touching his hand to his heart than to mine. Truth be told for the following 5 days he was nothing less than family. His boss, Mr Dickweed achem sorry I mean Javid is a crooked business man who got his in the end, but Raj is a wonderful human being, he still calls every day to make sure I am safe and fine.

The road to Jaipur is unlike the dirt roads of Mozambique. India has very modern infrastructure, the highway has 3-4 lanes, it's well maintained and looks kinda like I-95. Folks, this is where any comparison to any American highway ends. Driving on this road is like visiting a carnival freak show while tripping on acid.

Anything that can be driven, is here: cars, trucks(which like everything else here are ornately adorned in vibrant colors), motorcycles carrying whole families. I saw what looked like the vehicle the Beverly Hillbillies drive packed with people, bicycles, tractors, ride-on lawn mowers, pedestrians, an Arab riding a camel.


Yeah, I know what you're thinking. I chuckled too, to myself as Raj wouldn't get the reference nor does he know the English word jockey.

The menagerie of vehicles only provides a basic level of depth, now add or better stated subtract any semblance of traffic laws (vehicles regularly drive into oncoming traffic, drive at 50mph on the bumper of cars in front, weave through rickshaws, cows and pedestrians, and overtake anything blindly) and you start to get the picture. I only packed 3 pairs of underwear so in the interest of keeping the pair I had on clean, I closed my eyes and surrendered to a cacophony of horn blowing.

An hour into the drive Raj slams the breaks as we hit a traffic jam. "Huh huh, cow. Take picture."



An hour later we stopped to stretch our legs at the halfway point. As I got out of the car in rural India everyone stopped and stared. It was like a space ship had landed and "Gasp!" a large man with pale skin got out. Some people had a look of disgust on their face, most just a look of wonderment. This was my introduction to life amongst the Indian people as a 6'1, 200lb white guy. There at the rest stop and everywhere since I travel with an entourage of awe struck brown disciples. But unlike Mr. Javid, they have no hidden agenda, they are warm and friendly. They just want to talk, invite me in their home for tea, introduce me to their family. The common conversation, "You are big, big muscles, are you in the army? Are you a WWF wrestler(I am huge by Rajasthani standards). "What is your good name kind sir? Why are you not married (Mom? Have you been talking with India recently?)"
Then the other side of the coin, here white skin also means "He's rich let's get his money." Again most Indian citizens want friendly conversation. But rickshaw drivers, shop owners and their boys on the street form a syndicate of money sucking con-artistry that keeps you on constant alert and leaves you exhausted at the end of the day. Example, let's grab a taxi:

Me: Shanti Hotel, how much?
Driver: 500 rupees
Me: 500! No, no too much 100
Driver: 450
I walk away
Driver: 200
Me: Deal
And we're off. To Shanti Hotel you'd assume? Uh-uh..
Driver: Shanti Hotel is closed, I take you to a good hotel (This is complete bull, he gets commission)
Me: (lying) I already paid, have reservation (Why do we find it necessary to speak broken English back to broken English speakers?)
5 minutes in to the drive...
Driver: Agra is famous for marble, I take you to marble shop
Me: (internal voice) Do I have asshole written in Hindi across my forehead? (external voice) No! Shanti or no pay!

The first 5 times I fell for it. In addition when you get to the marble shop, or garment shop, the shop keeper is sooooo hospitable, serving me free beer (16 oz at 8% alc) to loosen my judgement. So if my gifts seem odd, please forgive me. Anybody want a rhinestone encrusted beer helmet with pom-poms attached to the brim?

Like the people, The rural towns and cities are in juxtaposition. Indian architecture is the most beautiful I've seen. Pictures of the Taj Mahal can't begin to do it justice, I enliken seeing it to the first time I saw Niagara falls or the Grand Canyon.

But turn your head 180 degrees and you'll see some of the most tragic things. Emaciated people starving on the street, impoverished children begging, people missing limbs or crippled with polio. I saw; a baby crawling in the road alone, a dog eating a dead pig in a busy Jaipur intersection, people taking a crap on the side of the road like, "Hey, it ain't no thing, I'll just pop a squat right here. Hey man what's up?"

Again, as the pendulum swings back, the streets are alive and so vibrant. The women are dressed in the most vivid saris, it's an amazing spectacle.

Then there are the smells, I close my eyes and invite the most fragrant incense, the exotic spices wafting in from the roadside cooking. Ten steps further and it smells like a carcass rotting in a Giants Stadium parking lot port-a-potty. Ten more steps, incense again. The local people think nothing of it, it is life to them. They go about their rhythm unfazed by any of this, and with tolerance to everyone and everything (accept the occasional huge white guy from Planet America).

Their tolerance is a product of their faith and strong devotion to religion and spirituality, regardless of belief. I visited a Hindu temple that had sculptures of Christ and Moses in it last week. The spirituality is the single greatest thing about India. It is all pervading and would make any visitor want to sit crossed-legged in lotus position chanting the sacred mantra, "Om, Om, Om."

The mix of religions has shaped this amazing culture, the art (I picked up this painting in Jaipur, a beautiful depiction of the Indian Romeo and Juliet-like love story of Krishna and Ratha)

the music, the dancing, the food and the people.

In my short time here, India has given me so much. I've seen; amazing temples and forts, my first in-theater Bollywood hit (Singh is King. 2 thumbs up), I ate wonderful food and met wonderful people. I've seen Delhi, Jaipur, Agra, Pushkar and in a few days, I'll hit Jodpur.

But in the end, for as much as India has given me, it has taken just a little bit more; the incessant hassle of touts, the constant entourage of mesmerized locals who don't understand that earphones in my ears means leave me alone, having to ignore the most heart breaking sights of sick and hungry children begging for food, fighting tooth and nail and not trusting anyone or anything any time money can possibly be exchanged, the over all squaller and the nasty NA-HA-HAS-T accommodations. Lastly, as many of you know earlier in the week, I came within 30 minutes of attending a terror attack in Connaught Place Delhi. Luckily my confrontation and experience with Mr. Javid soured me to the area and had me seek accomodations a mile away in the backpacker Paharanj area.

I'm taking all of these things as a message from the universe. As a solo traveler it's extremely taxing and lonely. While I wouldn't trade my time in India for anything, I've decided to cut it short to just over 2 weeks, but I look forward to returning in the future to see more. I'll be heading to a more peaceful, easy going and beautiful Nepal next week. Next up Sherpas up close and personal.

Let's go away for a while you and I to a strange and distant land. Where they speak no word of truth but we don't understand anyway.

Sometime about 2 weeks ago...
It's 4:50am, I awaken in the dark 10 minutes before my alarm beeps as once again my bladder wins the immutable war of the wills. In a daze I turn to look at my alarm clock when once again I realize I'm not in my bed, and my Hoboken apartment is a million miles away and a billion years ago. This morning at this time and place I am in Maputo, Mozambique. It's another group dorm, in another hostile.

I struggle in a minute-long battle with the mosquito netting which surrounds my bed (I really have to pee man!), and emerge from my cocoon like a newly minted butterfly as I stretch my arms. I'm sore. Hopping down from the top bunk, my feet hit the cold concrete floor and I take the day's first steps on my continuing journey. Today I am heading to Inhambane and Tofo, small beach towns a few hours up the coast. But first the dash to the outdoor toilet, I REALLY HAVE TO PEE MAN!

1:00pm It's a balmy 80 degrees on the back of the chappa (the word the locals use for the dilapidated over crammed minivan I find myself in) and my back and legs are burning as we enter hour five of our drive. I'm starting to feel like this is as authentic as it gets.

My neighbors are; a young teenage boy to my right who has brought the art of BO to a level my nose has never known, a woman breast feeding an infant while clipping her nails in front of me, and a chicken. Two months ago I would've never believed I'd be riding like a local through rural Mozambique. THIS IS AFRICA! Finally!

As the distance from Maputo grows the scenery becomes more tropical, more rural and beautiful. Villages dot our route and every time the chappa stops to pack more in, locals come from the road side to pedal their goods. Being a little hungry and curious to join the fray, I tried to negotiate for some oranges with a woman carrying a bucket full.

I held up 10 Meticals (24 to 1 against the USD) in one hand and 1 finger on the other. Understanding that we agreed upon the purchase of a single orange, I was floored when the lady poured the entire bucket (30 in total) into a bag and handed it over. Laughing, I offered oranges to everyone in the chappa and as we peeled our fruit we headed deeper into tropical, rural Africa.

At 6:00pm I'm in Tofo, bellied up to the bar with a new national beer to try (Laurentina) and new friends. My Mozambique experience is well underway...

"So why did you choose Tofo?"

Great question, I chose Tofo because it boasts great diving, it's the only place on the planet where Whale Sharks and Manta Rays can be seen all year with regularity. While cage diving with Great White Sharks is exciting (see post: "Swimming with Great White Trash"), swimming along side a Whale Shark is magical. I jumped into the water, looked ahead and this was staring me in the face.

The Whale Shark is the largest fish in the world measuring up to 30 feet. They're docile, harmless, toothless filter feeders and don't pose a threat to people. It's amazing how calm and big these fish are. I spent some time gliding through the water with this guy. Check the video, (As always I filmed myself in at the end of the clip to prove I was really there (not so much for you my viewing audience as much as for me)

Swimming with the Whale Sharks isn't all the waters off Mozambique have to offer. I had an amazing dive with some Manta Rays and got up close and personal with dolphins and hump back whales. We actually hit a humpback whale with our inflatable Zodiac boat, it was nuts. OK, so we're cruising along coming back from a dive and Wham! I looked down over my shoulder into the water and there was a blow hole staring back at me. I thought,"Shit! I read Moby Dick, this isn't going to end well." Fortunately the boat is light and inflatable and the whale weighs 40 tons. If anything, we gave him a good welcomed back scratchin' (the props did not hit him).

I seemed to have acquired a knack for going too fast and pissing off large mammals (See Elephant video in post:"Bushwacked")

Oh yeah, I added local villagers to this list too. One day a buddy of mine and I found a guy renting out quad bikes, so we decided to tour the local village. Our "guide" led us down what we now know is the children's school walking path. In seconds the village women came swarming like an angry horde of hornets. They were pissed, yelling at me in god knows what language. All I could do was shrug my shoulders, say, "sorry" and point at our guide. As I pulled away I saw our guide getting assaulted, the women were whacking him with hand bags and screaming at him. I felt bad ditching the guy, but come on, he deserved it and it was hilarious to watch over my shoulder.

Then, out comes an older guy in his late 60's with a grey beard wearing slacks, a t shirt and a baseball hat. Behold the Chief of the village! The chief reprimanded the guide who apologized and handed the Chief 10 Meticals. I thought, "Great, the Chief can go buy a bag of oranges". Everything was copasetic and we returned to our ride as I sang some Marley, "One love, one heart, let's join together and feel alright".

The village looks like they pulled it right out of my TV. It's an ecosystem of people, coconut trees, thatched huts, a well (no running water) nut trees, citrus groves and the ocean packed with prawns, fish and lobsters. It's like living in a supermarket, in the tropics.



The local people are the happiest, friendliest, smiley-est people I've met. They live simple lives and they are enchanting. One day I was walking/hitching into Inhambane to the only ATM (A day I refer to as "The day we went to the ATM" A story for another time), I passed a class of 7 year olds just dismissed for lunch. They came running over in their little uniforms, so excited to see us. All they wanted was to give us five or shake our hands. They go even crazier with delight when you take their picture (always ask first).

Over the next 8 days I got to know some of the locals. They are merchants or artists who work at the market or locals I've met along the way. There was Erajma the rasta and Horris and Anod and Babu and a bunch more. Some of my favorites were the kids. There is a clan of 12-15 year old boys who make and sell bracelets. They had great names like Johnny Cash, Joe Banana, Mr. Price (which is the name of a discount store in Africa) and they were amazing salesmen, better than 80% of the salespeople I've met. If I were a district sales manager, I'd hire my entire staff from this place. Ten times a day they would make their pitch, "Buy a bracelet." To which I'd reply,"Nah nah nah boys. You're barking up the wrong tree, I don't need a necklace or bracelet, I'm too manly for jewelry. You've gotta create a need, work on your openings. Plan your work and work your plan!" Thank you BP

So on the last day before we hopped a chappa to Swaziland we spent the last afternoon at the market.

Once again I got hit up by the bracelet mafia. This time one boy, "Rasta" asked if I had anything to trade.

RASTA: OK OK, no money. My friend, do you have any thing you can trade to me?
ME: Not really, I'm traveling light.
RASTA: Do you have a torch (flashlight) you can trade? I need one for school.

Turns out these kids work the market during daylight and go to school in the evening, in the dark, there's no electricity. Now I see why the chief was so upset we quad biked on the path. I can see him now, sitting in his hut, shaking his head as he eats his bag of oranges. Anywho, I had a pocket flash light and there was no way I wasn't going to give it to this kid.

ME: I'll tell you what Rasta. I do have a torch which I might trade if the Price is Right (ha ha, he has no idea were that's from). My friend, this is a mag-light. It is the finest torch America has to offer. I'll trade it to you, but it won't be cheap.
RASTA: I give you 1 necklace and 2 bracelets.
ME: Tsk! I don't know, this is a good torch. Tell you what, I'll give you my blue bandana too. This is the same kind Snoop Dogg wears (as I sing to him "I keep a blue flag hanging out my backside. But only on the left side yeah that's the Crip side." while I throw gang signs).

And the negotiation goes on...

So I am now a proud owner of 2 necklaces and 3 bracelets. And here is Rasta making them for me shortly after I tied my bandana around his head.


I'm haven't taken Rasta's jewelry off yet...and I am still manly.

About 20 minutes later a local sculptor and friend of mine offers to carve me a traditional ebony ear piercing. I figured I'll take it, maybe I'll re-pierce my ear, it's been 13 years. Ahh, I'll just hold onto it or give as a gift. He tells me to return in an hour. Dinner and 4 drinks later, it is now night and everyone had packed up their stall leaving the market dark and desolate. Walking past with my friends Dan and Fiona (aka "The Irish") we saw one stand with a light on. I walked up and said, "I am looking for a wood carver, I think his name is Horris, He is making me an earring."
"Oh yes, you are Chris?" says the guy next to the shack, "Come, come with me".

I parted from the Irish and descended into the back allies. It was reminiscent of the scene in Bloodsport when the Asian guide takes Jean-Claude Van Dam to the Kumite for the first time (Google it). I am scared, where the hell is he taking me? I'm getting jumped, I know it, shit! We came up to a lighted wall-less, thatched roofed hut. Inside was a crew including my man working on the earring. All of the regulars were there kicking back from a day's work, drinking beer or whiskey, bullshitting and having a good time.


A woman was cooking on an open fire while the guys worked on their carvings or paintings for the next day. In my head I hear "I remember when we used to sit, in a government yard in Trenchtown..." Holy crap! I really am living in a Bob Marley song.

So the earring is done and Arno asks if it fits. To which I reply,"Well I don't know my ears closed up years ago. I'm not going...uhh...."
He interrupts, "I can do this no problem"
And the crowd is going rowdy, the Irish came back to join and they shrug "why not?" So I figure hell yeah. How could I turn this down? I am in the middle of the jungle in Mozambique having an amazing time hanging out with my new local friends. When the hell does this actually happen to anyone? I'd be nuts not to. Maybe I 'm just drunk, whatever F-it! Let's go! And the crowd is on their feet. A guy pours me half a glass of whiskey... Down the hatch... And...


here I am with 1) a traditional African ear piercing, which was made for me, by the artist with whom I am drinking and hanging out with and 2) necklaces made for me in exchange for a safely lighted path to school. DUDE! QUIT YOUR FREAKIN JOB AND TRAVEL! THIS TRIP JUST CONTINUES TO GET BETTER AND CRAZIER AND MORE AMAZING. I'VE LIVED MORE IN THE PAST TWO WEEKS THAN I HAVE IN THE PAST 5 YEARS.

Sorry about that folks. Hech-hem What was I saying? Oh yeah so we hung out with our local friends for another 40 minutes and parted ways with an invite to go play ping-pong. Sadly, The Irish and I had a 4am chappa to catch to Swaziland so we had to pass.

"Fox? Why did you go to Swaziland?"

To see the Umhlanga of course! Also known as the Reed dance. Once a year or so the King of Swaziland picks a new wife from a group of >40,000 Swazi virgins. During the 5th day, they all dance for him, topless in a huge traditional ceremony.


It was pretty cool, there were thousands of ornately dressed women dancing, singing and chanting in time with precision. Definitely a spectacle to see.

So from there I stayed at a hostile where there was no electricity as a brush fire was consuming the whole countryside and flames were shooting 20 feet in the air at the wall of our yard and I thought we were going to die, then I got me a 42 hour Dutch girlfriend who I met walking out of the reed festival. I traveled on with her to Nelspruit South Africa. She went off to Kruger and I headed back to Johannesburg where I now sit back at Iris' pad, typing this entry for the past 5 hours.

I am jumping a plane to Delhi India in a few hours thus ending my time here in Africa. I am really sad to leave, I'll miss this place and I can't wait to return. It's been almost 2 and a half months and I really feel comfortable here. I get the language, have a favorite food, know my way around town. I even have some friends here.

I'm learning that the greatest value of travel comes in the growth one experiences from consistently being challenged. Challenges like: language barriers, converting currencies, the damn metric system, foreign cell phones, canceled flights and buses, Where am I sleeping tonight?, Where am I eating?, How am I getting to Swaziland? It's a day trip just to go to the ATM. Everything I have fits in a 55L backpack. There's no TV or internet...

Dealing with the frightening and annoying constantly, changes a person. And as you learn to get over it and start letting go, the most amazing things unfold right in front of your eyes.

Bushwacked

Sorry for the long silence folks, I was in the bush for the past 5 weeks and couldn't get to a computer. You wouldn't believe how rough it was. I had no phone, no lights, no internet, not a single luxury. It was kinda like Robinson Crusoe. But now I’m back in civilization in Jo’burg. My time in the bush was amazing and...“SHUT UP AND SHOW US PICTURES!”

OK ALREADY SHEESH!!! So I spent the last 5 weeks at Karongwe Game Reserve at the foot of the Drakensberg Mountains

I spent my time tracking animals like Lions

Leopards, "Say Cheese Mr. Leopard!"

and Giraffes


While it was an awesome experience, it came with some challenges. The first of which was keeping my sanity in the living conditions. I've learned why piling a bunch people into a house to live on top of each other for 24 hours a day is a prime strategy for reality TV, because it's a ratings generating recipe for insanity.

Ingredients:

• 18 people
• Assorted 21-24 year olds, a dash of drama queens (male and female), a pinch of peer pressure and a few late twenties, thirty and forty somethings

• Plenty of alcohol
• Lack of sleep
• Melodrama

Preparation:

Add all of the ingredients into a simple concrete dorm
Remove all distractions like TV, internet, exercise and privacy
Enclose in an electrified fence
Let simmer for 5 weeks...

DING! One crazy man, foaming at the mouth coming right up. I almost succumbed to the pressure but I was able to stave off insanity.

My father used to tell me that there is a price to pay for everything. If so, the price was well worth what I received in return. In addition to tracking the animals I also got to:

Watch leopard surgery (I don't think it will make it to the Discovery Channel, but cool nonetheless)

Put a scorpion on my face

And visit Kruger National park for a few days. I had the pleasure of driving a small bus with 9 others through the park. The highlight of the trip was facing off against a bull elephant. Now I know I said I got charged by an elephant in my last post, but it could have been better said that I was on the back of a truck when it got charged. This time I was in the driver's seat.

It went like this... Kruger closes at 6PM and if you don't get out before they fine you. So it was ~5:45 and we were cutting it close. I was tearing ass down a dirt road like Bo Duke going much faster that the speed limit, when we came around a turn. And boom right in front of us was this...

Ah ha! taste life, Fox 1 elephant 0. If you listen closely you can hear me nearly crap my pants, "What do I do? What do I do?"and my friend Yoel in the passenger seat answering "uhhhhhh" with shrugging shoulders (thanks for the assist man). But I got out alive, I figure elephants may be fast but they can't cut on a dime, so as he came toward us I blew past him and let him take his aggression out on the poor saps behind us. Replay the video watch as the elephant heads toward the white car behind us at the end (I hope they made it out alive).

I've started noticing duality returning to my life. Seven weeks ago everything was awe inspiring and my head was in the clouds. Now there is balance, for each amazing experience there's been a not so amazing one (i.e. the crazy dorm). One of the other challenges I faced, believe it or not was boredom. I know, even in exotic wild Africa you're not immune to it. Here's an example:

Every morning I'd wake up at 5AM to hop on the back of a truck and look for animals. I'd get back to base four hours later, take a three hour break and then do it again at 3PM. It was incredible at the beginning, what a rush. Week 1 was like this:
7AM on the back of the truck

ME: Wow a lion! Look at that! I’ll record the GPS coordinates, can you get a picture of me with him in the background. AWESOME!!!

However the magic eventually puttered out and by week 5 the experience was more like this:
Again, It’s 7AM on the back of the truck

ME: …Yeah the elephant’s name was Stampy…that was a good one, but my favorite episode is when Homer starts his own snow plowing company, and makes the TV commercial. Remember the song?...

FROM THE CAB OF THE TRUCK: Lion… 3 o’clock.

ME: Huh? You wanna record the GPS or should I? What was I saying? Oh yeah. (singing) Mr Plow that’s the name, that name again is Mr.Plow.

Luckily for me, boredom is never too difficult to overcome, there are plenty of ways to entertain yourself and break through the monotony of the routine.

I grew a mustache (and no I am not naked):

But after 2 weeks I could no longer handle the itchiness and uncomfortability that accompanied "The" handlebar. Merit goes to the real men who can tame and conquer this beast that makes your upper lip sweat and the corners of your mouth itch. Here's to you Tom Selek, Gene Shallot, Ron Jeremy and Uncle Sol.

And of course there were books to read and great conversations to have with my new friends. Lastly there are some things that never get old and never get boring. Did you know that zebras' bellies swell from the amount of gas they produce? Plus they are easily spooked. This combines for hilarious results. Often when pulling up to a herd of zebras they would take off like a shot farting the whole way to the horizon! Almost like they've kicked in the afterburners.

So in closing, I'll leave you with some lessons from the bush:

1) Watch where you step

2) Going to some place exotic can be amazing. But like anything else if you let it become routine, boredom will set in. I believe the converse is true. Follow me here; if I can get bored of things in wild Africa like I can at home, then perhaps with a little planning I can make home more amazing too. I traveled a zillion miles to see wild Africa yet I've never driven to Maine.

3) Zebras running off farting is hilarious!

Well I'm back in Johannesburg now staying with my friends Iris and Mutsa. I'm planning to head to Mozambique this week for some rest and relaxation on the beach and snorkeling and diving. Mozambique is famous for its whale shark and manta ray diving. Onward ho!

Musth stash

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.

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.

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)

Touchdown! and the fans go wild

OK sports fans the journey has begun, here's the recap. On Tuesday night I headed into NYC to catch Pearl Jam one last time before heading out. After what seemed like a sleepless night with only a weird drawn out jam session and conversation with Eddie Vetter to let me know I was dreaming, I headed to Newark and boarded my flight. Hung over with 2 hours of sleep, or jamming with Vetter under my belt, I sat in my seat and popped an Ambien for the first time. I figure if I land in Amsterdam at 8:30 local time, I can sleep the whole way and convince my body that it's been a whole night and negate the effects of jet lag. WRONG!! I now understand why the commercial recommends you have a full 8 hours to sleep. To my chagrin the pilot announced the flight time at 6 hours and 40 minutes, 30 seconds after I took the sucker.

So I landed in Amsterdam still a little loopy from the Ambien experiment and I took public transport to my buddy John Jakes' flat. I feel like I crammed a week long European vacation into 24 hours; did some walking around the city, ate some fries with mayo (Do you know what the call a quarterpounder with cheese at McDonald's there? Royale with Cheese.), we rented a boat and cruised the canals, went for a drink on top of a plush hotel with a view, caught the Russia v Spain "football" game at a bar with some rabid fans, hit a Turkish place for late night grub and I ended up passing out on an air mattress on the floor wasted just like the previous night after the Pearl Jam concert. Except this time I had no doubt I slept, it was one of those dreamless deep coma type of sleeps.

I haven't figured out the picture thing too well, but here's an attempt. Here's some pics from the canals.














So I woke up from my deep slumber in the morning and took the same public transportation in reverse back to the airport to hop a 9 hour flight to Cape Town (sans Ambien this time). My friend Iris set me up with her friend Paul who picked me up from the airport, took me to his flat to drop off my stuff. And like Jakes took me to the bar as my first stop. We went clubbing with a group of French ex-pats. After getting humiliated at a couple of games of foosball we hit the dance floor. The DJ was spinning the same songs I used to when I was 19. It was nostalgic and cheesy at the same time. The ugly American inner monologue in my head was laughing and saying, "Hey, in two years this white rapper named Eminem is going to come out and blow up the charts." And then, like the night before at Jakes' place...I crashed at Paul's, which brings me to right now.

I've been shot out of a cannon up to this point and now I am chilling. Paul is off playing paint ball, I just did not have it in me to crash at 2:30AM and wake up at 7:30AM to go shoot some Afrikaans with paint. I opted to sleep in, organize myself and write to you good folks. So here I am in Paul's computer room with his 2 really loud parrots (Hey shut up already!!!). I've been in Africa for about 15 hours and most of it has been in a bar. We're supposed to go surfing this afternoon with some of the French guys from last night. I'll be back shortly with my impressions on Cape Town. For now, I leave you with a view from Paul's balcony.

Crescendo

Oh..... my..... God

I can't believe I actually did it. AAAHHHHHHH HAAAAAAAAA HAA HA HA HA!!!

The storm before the calm

I hit the halfway point between leaving my job and leaving my life today. The past 2 weeks have been, have been...it's difficult to describe, kinda like catharsis meets "Holy Shit! I'm backpacking around the world!"

Did you ever have a moment in your life when you feel everything at the same time? There's the sadness of saying good-bye, the fear of what lies ahead. You've got the release and forgiveness thing going on coupled with reflection and introspection.

Then there's the thrill of pending adventure, the guilt of leaving friends and family, especially nephews who, aren't old enough to realize that you're leaving and won't recognize or remember you when you return.

Add to it the anxiety of getting every last thing buttoned up to sustain you out in the world as the clock ticks louder and louder while time runs out and everyone wants a few moments. Lastly, there's the overwhelming joy accompanied by dancing through your mother's house when you realize that you've broken orbit and you're free!!!!

So, here's a quick update. I...finally bought a camera, booked my trip to Hermanus to go shark diving on my birthday (July 3rd), figured out Skype, have all of the medical supplies I need, registered with the State Department so they know where I am, and set up communications and contingency plans just in case poop happens. I've got my absentee ballot, and I think I am almost ready to roll.

Thanks to all of you who've wished me well and shared kind words. I never would have anticipated the response I received. In closing, I want to share an interesting observation. Over the past 2-3 weeks I asked a bunch of people, "If you can wake up tomorrow and do anything you want, N...E....thing, what would it be?" Most responded by giving me a constraint that's preventing them from doing whatever "it" is, rather than answering the question I asked them. I found it interesting. I think it's an important question to ask yourself, people should ask it of themselves regularly. And they should answer it honestly, regardless of how long it takes to answer.
Next up Geronimo!

I've been expecting you

Hello world,

WELCOME TO MY BLOG! This is the first opportunity anyone has had to read my musings on my upcoming trip around the world. The seven post soliloquy below provides historic background, but here's the quick and dirty...

I'm leaving for Cape Town, South Africa on June 25th, following a 24hr lay over in Amsterdam I land in S. Africa on June 27th. I leave Africa for Delhi, India on Sept 7th and in mid-October I fly from Kathmandu, Nepal to Bangkok, Thailand. On January 16th I catch a flight home from Sydney, Australia via a 1 day stop in Hong Kong.

If you want the deets read on.

PS. Start from the beginning, it makes much more sense that way (click on the "older posts" link at the bottom of the page). Oh and pictures will be accompanying the posts shortly. I still haven't bought a camera...just start reading from the bottom, you'll see

Oh yeah, if you want to be notified when I add a new entry, add a comment to any entry with your email address. I won't post it, so your anonymity will be spared. I'll just add you to my distribution list then delete the comment containing your email address. I will post all other comments however. (unless they are disparaging and make me look foolish ((like I need your comments to accomplish that!))