On the Road to Jo'burg

I really should be better about posting these updates as soon as I write them...

Wednesday, May 19

12:08pm: Didn't end up doing all that much over my two days in Nairobi.  Spent the first day relaxing and reading at a coffee shop in Westgate Mall, watched Iron Man 2, had sushi for lunch and dinner, and talked with other backpackers at the hostel, picking up some good travel tips for Malawi and learning that it probably won't be possible to go through Mozambique in the time that I have (it's at least 5 days of solid travel).  The next morning, I went to the US embassy and spent 30 minutes standing in line before seeing another American walk up to the guard, flash a US passport, and go right through.  Ended up being very easy to get the extra pages for my passport, involving filling out my address three times on one form and then waiting 20 minutes.

After the embassy, I stopped at Westgate Mall to use the wifi and confirm through travel.state.gov that I can get border visas for all the countries it's possible that I'll be passing through (Malawi, Mozambique, Zambia, South Africa).  Next was a visit to the National Museum, which had beautiful gardens and architecture, but I didn't enjoy the museum itself all that much.  The 9,100+ birds on display were pretty cool though and I want to remember to send photos of them to my 4-5th grade teacher, Liz Saplin, who loved birds and took her classes on bird watching expeditions.

I wasn't in the mood for more museums and the idea of going to one of the animal sanctuaries didn't seem appealing in comparison to the safaris I'm planning to go on at Ngorongoro Crater and Serengeti, so I just sat and read the Economist and went to see the new Robin Hood with Russell Crowe and Kate Blanchett (should have trusted my instincts and avoided that one).  After the movie, I realized that if I was already resorting to movies, there was absolutely no reason to stay in Nairobi another day, so I called to book a seat on an overnight bus to Mombasa, then went back to the hostel to pack up, have a quick dinner, and check out.

My 9pm bus got me into Mombasa a bit after 6am.  Discovering that there weren't any overnight buses to Lamu and not wanting to deal with trying to check into a hotel or find a place to drop my bag at that early hour, I boarded a 7am bus bound for Makinde.  One painful bus ride and a short ferry ride later, I found myself on Lamu, a small but beautiful Muslim island town, with two new friends: Andre, a recent graduate from outside of Philly, and Jans, a vacationer from Norway.  After visiting a few hotels with a tout, we eventually settled on the first place he had showed us, which had breezy rooms and, we discovered later, a rooftop view of the ocean and a clear, starry sky.  We encountered some persistent salesmen trying to get us to book a dhow ride or come for a traditional Swahili dinner in their homes (at vastly inflated prices), but shook them off and enjoyed some beer at one of the four places you can buy it on Lamu (and one of two where you can buy it cold) and then dinner at a nice seaside restaurant, eventually retiring to our hotel for some stargazing and an early evening.

We spent the morning exploring Lamu's narrow streets and avoiding stepping in the donkey dung produced by the island's ubiquitous inhabitants.  The town is like a labyrinth, with narrow, irregular passages between buildings that served to protect the town from invaders in centuries past.  This afternoon: more chilling and booking a dhow trip for tomorrow to drift through the mangroves and explore the Takwa ruins on nearby Manda Island.

Wednesday, June 2

7:00am: In retrospect, taking the ferry from Nkata Bay to Monkey Bay wasn’t such a hot idea.  It has managed to turn a 10-12 hour bus ride into what now appears to be three cold nights and two scenery-less days as the ferry zig-zags between the Malawian and Mozambiquen shores.  Most of the passengers at the start were just getting off at one of the islands, so there hasn’t even been much chance to make friends.  At least the stars and sunrises have been beautiful.  Anyway, as we’ve been sitting in the same place for the past three hours, loading and unloading passengers and cargo via small wooden boats, and don’t seem likely to move for at least another couple hours, I figured this would be a good time to write a quick catch up.

My three days and nights in Lamu were quite relaxing and totally worth the three days (total) of travel required to get there from Nairobi and then over to Arusha.  Upon arrival in Arusha, I checked my email and saw a note from one of my good friends, Martha, that her sister, Sam, was currently in Arusha and had just recovered from a bout of malaria and could I please check in on her if I happened to pass through.  Text messages were exchanged and I ended up hanging out with Sam and her friends, Kate and Aiofe, the next couple nights.  They’re all fun, down-to-earth people and I really enjoyed their company (and home cooking).

After a day spent tracking down the cheapest, most reliable safari with Alberto, a Spaniard I met at the hostel where I was staying, I departed on Monday morning to the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater.  Although frequently frustrated with the quality of the photos taken by my Nikon Coolpix (especially compared to the ones I got out of my comparably priced Panasonic Lumix earlier in my trip), I did manage to get some quality shots of the cheetahs, tree-climbing lions, rhinos, giraffes, zebras, hyenas, wildebeests, ostriches, and other assorted animals we encountered over our three-day safari.  The trip was the perfect length, with quality company and surprisingly delicious meals making the whole experience even more enjoyable.

After the safari, I spent one evening in Dar, playing with Bodie for an hour, having dinner with Alfred, and catching up with Sarah over drinks.  It was so good to see them all again and I was sorry to be departing so quickly, but alas, the twice-weekly train to Mbeya departed the next afternoon, so it was back on the road for me.  Lonely Planet warned that tickets for the train should be booked a few days in advance, but as I discovered at the station, this is just the result of a scam being perpetrated by the booking agents in collusion with touts: asking for a ticket at the window will result in being informed that the train is sold out, but if you go talk to one of the touts outside, they will charge you about $6 more than the ticket price, walk you to the ticket window, and nod at the agent, who will then erase one of the passenger names on her list and issue you a ticket.  This was by far my most blatant encounter with corruption to date and considering the many horror stories I’ve heard, I’m counting myself lucky to have gotten off so easy (knock on wood for my final two weeks!).

Traveling by train is infinitely nicer than traveling by bus.  Instead of being stuck in a single cramped seat, bouncing along Tanzania’s poorly maintained roads, I spent my 24-hour ride either sleeping soundly on a reasonably comfortable bed or having animated conversations in the dining car with other travelers.  I ended up making friends with a boatload (or trainload) of people, including one guy, Josh, another New York Jew, heading to visit his girlfriend in Zambia, where he had just finished his Peace Corps service.  I convinced Josh and Rooney, a Kiwi on his gap year, to take a detour with me and a Japanese traveler, Sugi, to Nkhata Bay, a little backpacker paradise in Malawi.  Despite falling prey to a scammer at our lodging in Mbeya who sold us bus tickets “all the way to Nkhata Bay” which did not pick up again after the Malawian border, we had a nice, relaxing evening and day in Nkhata Bay, after which Josh resumed his journey to Zambia (with plans to come meet me in Jo’burg for the World Cup) and I embarked on this ill-advised ferry ride.  At least Cape Maclear, another renowned backpacker beach hangout, looms in my future and I plan to spend at least three or four days there doing some heavy-duty chillaaaaaxin’.

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The response to my request for help in my last post (and on Facebook and gchat) with World Cup tickets and accommodations was overwhelming.  I received email introductions to multiple friends-of-friends who will be in Jo’burg at the same time, a ticket to the US-England match, and possibly even an apartment to crash in.  Between those connections, the many cool people I’ve encountered along the way (especially on the Dar-Mbeya train), and the heaps of additional people I’m sure I’ll meet when I get to Jo’burg, my five or so days of World Cup madness are shaping up to be a blast.

Despite the good times I’m having on the road and expecting to have at the World Cup, I find myself increasingly daydreaming about my return to the states and seeing all my friends and family.  It feels like I’ve been on hiatus from “real life” and I’m increasingly torn between on one hand the desire to achieve “real” goals like advancing my career, finding a life partner, and deepening relationships with people who I hope will be close life-long friends, and on the other hand a longing to see more of the world and just stay on the road for as long as humanly possible.  I’ve met a number of people on my travels who have been more or less on the road, living and working in developing countries, since finishing “uni” (college).  While they’re generally warm, fun, interesting people, I’m horrified of the prospect of waking up one day and finding myself in my early 30s, single, passing my time with people I’ve known for less than a year, a string of teaching and tourism gigs behind me, no real impact on the world, measuring time by how much longer I can stretch my meager savings while making sure I have enough left over to by a plane ticket home.

I know that’s not a very charitable view of the roving ex-pat life and I suspect the people I’m describing would respond by questioning why I would want to wake up one day in my early 30s, having spent most of my youth in offices and classrooms, climbing an unconquerable career ladder, living in only one or two cities, seeing the same people day-in and day-out, the rough course of the next 30-odd years (marriage, house, kids) already laid out before me, measuring time by how much longer it will take to save enough money to retire and spend the twilight of my life rekindling the carefree spirit whose brief flare inspired this quarter-life crisis.  The truth is, both those characterizations fail to capture the benefits and joy that can accompany either lifestyle, and really, trying to project how I’ll evaluate my life 5-8 years from now is both foolish and short-sighted.  For now, I’m just going to focus on making the most of my final two weeks (of this stint) in Africa…