May our worst days be like this one. This is a saying in Turkish that my dad likes to use while giving a toast at an exceptionally fine dinner with family to wish that our days to come will be as good if not better than the wonderful day at hand.
This was said more than once by Lauren (in Turkish) and me while laying on the beach in Zanzibar, having a drink while watching an elephant saunter by, and strolling through the diverse streets of Mombasa – among other times – and came to be the theme of our recent trip to the Middle East and Africa. I’ve taken the time to detail some of our adventures which are broken up into the following posts:
November 2 – Dubai
November 3 – Nairobi
November 4 – Nairobi
Safari Animals
November 4 – Amboseli
November 5 – Tsavo West
November 6 – Tsavo East
November 7 – Mombasa
November 8 – Stone Town
November 9-12 – Paradise
November 13 – Nairobi
November 14-15 – Dubai
As you can already tell, much has been written – certainly not all of which will be interesting to you – and even more photos have been taken. What started out as a mere documentary process for me morphed into the novel that follows, so I will not be offended in the least if you skip small or large portions, leave nasty comments about how unnecessarily wordy I can be, or simply wait for Lauren and/or me to give you the highlights in person.
After sorting through the 1000+ taken, some pictures have been posted that correspond to the posts below. These can be found at http://picasaweb.google.com/eyayboke.
Enjoy!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
November 4 - Amboseli
Michael was our driver and tour guide. A rather large man by Kenyan standards, his English was excellent and he seemed to know just about everything about wildlife. We ultimately chose Eastern and Southern for our safari because they came highly recommended from a friend, were incredibly flexible with our needs, and offered an individualized tour for what we thought was a very reasonable (under $2k for 2 people, 3 parks and 3 nights at top notch game lodges) all-inclusive price. We were not disappointed.
Our first morning was spent navigating the bumpy 5-hour road from Nairobi to Amboseli National Park. Located near the Tanzanian border and in the shadow of Africa's highest mountain (Mt. Kilimanjaro), Amboseli was a vast area of open land with little vegetation. At some points, especially near the entrance, I felt like I was back in the desert of Western Iraq (complete with mirages) until I saw a family of giraffes that would thankfully snap me back to the moment.
We made it to the Amboseli Serena Lodge by lunch and were able to gather ourselves before the afternoon 'game drive.' Especially in the summer, animals tend to find shade and rest during the middle hours of the day, so guides generally take folks out in the early morning and evening.
Before the afternoon outing; however, Michael recommended visiting a local Maasai village. the Maasai are generally unwilling to have their pictures taken, so this would really be the only chance for us to capture on film, not to mention experience, the vibrant colors and fascinating culture of these nomadic peoples. We jumped at the opportunity.
Not far from our lodge, this village had obviously made the conscious decision to become a tourist attraction, charging visitors a nominal fee ($30) to spend an hour or two getting to know them. Benson, who proudly introduced himself as the son of the chief of the village, was our guide. Having been educated at a missionary school in Tanzania, he spoke beautiful English and gave us an hour-long tour of his village. When we entered through one of four gates to the village encircled by a makeshift fence to keep away predators, we were greeted by a line of villagers in the middle open space of the village. Benson explained that all visitors were treated to a traditional song and dance, men on the right and women on the left. At his insistence, we joined in, Lauren chanting and jumping forward hand in hand with a 20-something woman, and me holding a stick as I bent forward in rhythm with the other men.
"We are Christian," explained Benson after the crowd had dispersed to go back to the business of the day. "But we are also polygamists. You are not allowed to choose your first wife but you may choose the 2nd, 3rd, etc."
I wasn't entirely sure how that all worked, but I guess if the Mormons can do it so can the Maasai. The village was divided into four parts, each for one of the four famil8ies that lived there. They pretty much only eat goat and cow meat, which probably explains why they were so thin, but the drought had unfortunately killed 120 cows this year so some of their food was subsidized by humanitarian NGOs. During the day the adolescent boys, identified by their black outfit as opposed to the normal vibrant reds and blues and known as the Junior Warriors, would take the communal animals out to graze, returning in the afternoon to put them safely in pens (for the smaller animals) or out in the middle of the village. Sure enough, throughout the course of our visit some of them did return and followed us around, probably unaccustomed to seeing younger muzungus (white people).
Our next stop was to watch the elders play a game I immediately recognized as Mancala, a game I had played in my childhood and a favorite of my cousins in Texas.
"They normally gamble, but this time is just for fun."
Two small stools were brought for us and Benson gave us a rundown of Maasai herbal remedies. There was the tree to cure malaria; boil the branch into a tea, drink, and proceed to vomit for four hours. When you start to see something green, the malaria would be out. No one in his village had ever died from malaria. Then there was the branch, also boiled, for stomach ailments that would give you the runs for four hours after which you'd be cured (and probably a little weak). Lastly, there was the 'Maasai Viagra' used not surprisingly for older men with multiple wives.
"Not for men with one wife," Benson half-joked. "That's considered a punishment for them."
According to Benson, the village had one 'doctor' who had also received an education in Tanzania, and the nearby game lodges assisted with an emergency needs; usually only necessary when some sort of surgery was required.
Despite seeming permanent to us, this village was actually not. These are a nomadic people and periodically they would destroy everything and start over at the base of Kilimanjaro. The mud houses would be taken down and only the most valuable things would be carried by the men and women on their backs to the new location.
Next on the agenda was a fire demonstration. Apparently, elephant dung is full of flammable fibres in addition to a lovely stench, so each morning a small group of men would collect a chunk and start a fire that would then be used by all the women for cooking in their respective domiciles. Holding a circular stick in his hands, one man would rapidly twist it between his hands until the heat from the friction became unbearable. At this point his buddy would take over and the process would continue until, alas, a small spark would light the dung and branches.
"How do you call it? Shit or dung?"
Dung is fine, Benson, there is a lady present, I said, only to be pinched by Lauren. We walked around the small village - around 200 people total lived there - until arriving at Benson's mother's house.
"Watch your head and shoulders," he warned me, "we Maasai aren't as big as you white people."
After winding through a small entryway, we arrived in the living room/dining room, off of which were two holes big enough for two beds. the entire space couldn't have been more than 50 sq ft. and kinda made my small DC apartment look like the Taj Mahal. Generally, the father and mother would sleep in one bed, basically an elevated wooden platform on which were placed overlaid thin leather skins, while the children would sleep in the other bed. At a certain age, the boys would have to leave the house, take a wife, and build a new home. It was a simple place, but apparently adequate for a people that spent almost every waking minute outside. A small fire pit in the middle completed the hut and small holes in the walls and roof served as makeshift chimneys.
Not wanted to be rude and resigning to the fact that we were tourists (*gasp*), we browsed the obligatory assortment of arts and crafts set up by the villagers and obligatorily overpaid for several really neat knickknacks.
"Would you like to see our school?" Benson offered after we had emptied our pockets.
Sure!
The small schoolhouse was just a few hundred meters from the village and was the only one in the area, serving several groups of children in staggered lessons from the surrounding villages. The building also served as the storage place for rice and other food sacks provided by the World Food Program. The drought this year had affected most Kenyans, and these Maasai were no exceptions, losing many animals due to lack of water and the resulting lack of vegetation. Classes in English and Swahili (the Maasai speak their own, unique tribal language) were combined with basic math and science, offering many of these children the only opportunity they had to learn anything outside traditional Maasai culture. Probably hoping to elicit sympathy (read: donations), the village children duly sat in their chairs for us while the teachers, of which Benson was one, told us about the school. We then signed the guestbook and rejoined Michael out by the car, thanking Benson for his hospitality and Michael for bringing us.
We hadn't even been on a single game drive and the safari had already exceeded all of my expectations.
Our first morning was spent navigating the bumpy 5-hour road from Nairobi to Amboseli National Park. Located near the Tanzanian border and in the shadow of Africa's highest mountain (Mt. Kilimanjaro), Amboseli was a vast area of open land with little vegetation. At some points, especially near the entrance, I felt like I was back in the desert of Western Iraq (complete with mirages) until I saw a family of giraffes that would thankfully snap me back to the moment.
We made it to the Amboseli Serena Lodge by lunch and were able to gather ourselves before the afternoon 'game drive.' Especially in the summer, animals tend to find shade and rest during the middle hours of the day, so guides generally take folks out in the early morning and evening.
Before the afternoon outing; however, Michael recommended visiting a local Maasai village. the Maasai are generally unwilling to have their pictures taken, so this would really be the only chance for us to capture on film, not to mention experience, the vibrant colors and fascinating culture of these nomadic peoples. We jumped at the opportunity.
Not far from our lodge, this village had obviously made the conscious decision to become a tourist attraction, charging visitors a nominal fee ($30) to spend an hour or two getting to know them. Benson, who proudly introduced himself as the son of the chief of the village, was our guide. Having been educated at a missionary school in Tanzania, he spoke beautiful English and gave us an hour-long tour of his village. When we entered through one of four gates to the village encircled by a makeshift fence to keep away predators, we were greeted by a line of villagers in the middle open space of the village. Benson explained that all visitors were treated to a traditional song and dance, men on the right and women on the left. At his insistence, we joined in, Lauren chanting and jumping forward hand in hand with a 20-something woman, and me holding a stick as I bent forward in rhythm with the other men.
"We are Christian," explained Benson after the crowd had dispersed to go back to the business of the day. "But we are also polygamists. You are not allowed to choose your first wife but you may choose the 2nd, 3rd, etc."
I wasn't entirely sure how that all worked, but I guess if the Mormons can do it so can the Maasai. The village was divided into four parts, each for one of the four famil8ies that lived there. They pretty much only eat goat and cow meat, which probably explains why they were so thin, but the drought had unfortunately killed 120 cows this year so some of their food was subsidized by humanitarian NGOs. During the day the adolescent boys, identified by their black outfit as opposed to the normal vibrant reds and blues and known as the Junior Warriors, would take the communal animals out to graze, returning in the afternoon to put them safely in pens (for the smaller animals) or out in the middle of the village. Sure enough, throughout the course of our visit some of them did return and followed us around, probably unaccustomed to seeing younger muzungus (white people).
Our next stop was to watch the elders play a game I immediately recognized as Mancala, a game I had played in my childhood and a favorite of my cousins in Texas.
"They normally gamble, but this time is just for fun."
Two small stools were brought for us and Benson gave us a rundown of Maasai herbal remedies. There was the tree to cure malaria; boil the branch into a tea, drink, and proceed to vomit for four hours. When you start to see something green, the malaria would be out. No one in his village had ever died from malaria. Then there was the branch, also boiled, for stomach ailments that would give you the runs for four hours after which you'd be cured (and probably a little weak). Lastly, there was the 'Maasai Viagra' used not surprisingly for older men with multiple wives.
"Not for men with one wife," Benson half-joked. "That's considered a punishment for them."
According to Benson, the village had one 'doctor' who had also received an education in Tanzania, and the nearby game lodges assisted with an emergency needs; usually only necessary when some sort of surgery was required.
Despite seeming permanent to us, this village was actually not. These are a nomadic people and periodically they would destroy everything and start over at the base of Kilimanjaro. The mud houses would be taken down and only the most valuable things would be carried by the men and women on their backs to the new location.
Next on the agenda was a fire demonstration. Apparently, elephant dung is full of flammable fibres in addition to a lovely stench, so each morning a small group of men would collect a chunk and start a fire that would then be used by all the women for cooking in their respective domiciles. Holding a circular stick in his hands, one man would rapidly twist it between his hands until the heat from the friction became unbearable. At this point his buddy would take over and the process would continue until, alas, a small spark would light the dung and branches.
"How do you call it? Shit or dung?"
Dung is fine, Benson, there is a lady present, I said, only to be pinched by Lauren. We walked around the small village - around 200 people total lived there - until arriving at Benson's mother's house.
"Watch your head and shoulders," he warned me, "we Maasai aren't as big as you white people."
After winding through a small entryway, we arrived in the living room/dining room, off of which were two holes big enough for two beds. the entire space couldn't have been more than 50 sq ft. and kinda made my small DC apartment look like the Taj Mahal. Generally, the father and mother would sleep in one bed, basically an elevated wooden platform on which were placed overlaid thin leather skins, while the children would sleep in the other bed. At a certain age, the boys would have to leave the house, take a wife, and build a new home. It was a simple place, but apparently adequate for a people that spent almost every waking minute outside. A small fire pit in the middle completed the hut and small holes in the walls and roof served as makeshift chimneys.
Not wanted to be rude and resigning to the fact that we were tourists (*gasp*), we browsed the obligatory assortment of arts and crafts set up by the villagers and obligatorily overpaid for several really neat knickknacks.
"Would you like to see our school?" Benson offered after we had emptied our pockets.
Sure!
The small schoolhouse was just a few hundred meters from the village and was the only one in the area, serving several groups of children in staggered lessons from the surrounding villages. The building also served as the storage place for rice and other food sacks provided by the World Food Program. The drought this year had affected most Kenyans, and these Maasai were no exceptions, losing many animals due to lack of water and the resulting lack of vegetation. Classes in English and Swahili (the Maasai speak their own, unique tribal language) were combined with basic math and science, offering many of these children the only opportunity they had to learn anything outside traditional Maasai culture. Probably hoping to elicit sympathy (read: donations), the village children duly sat in their chairs for us while the teachers, of which Benson was one, told us about the school. We then signed the guestbook and rejoined Michael out by the car, thanking Benson for his hospitality and Michael for bringing us.
We hadn't even been on a single game drive and the safari had already exceeded all of my expectations.
Safari Animals
Below is a list of animals, in no particular order, seen during our 3 day safari in Kenya and documented in photos. Some of them can be seen here, although not all of them were particularly good photos so you'll have to live with just a description. If you're really interested in the pictures of the ones not posted either email me or visit www.google.com.
Impala: You can see where chevy got the inspiration with these slick and graceful beasts that usually travel in groups. Also, apparently they taste bad so lions don't like to eat them.
Zebra: You know you're on safari when seeing a zebra becomes routine and not even worth stopping for a picture after a while.
Elephant: We saw lots of these and doing so never got old. Majestic and oddly graceful, their personalities were readily apparent. They usually travel in families and are colored based on the color of the water - i.e. clear water means the local elephants will be grey, muddy water they're brown. Probably one of the best moments of the entire safari was in Tsavo East where we witnessed an entire family of elephants (including babies) playing and cooling off in a mud hole after a rain.
Wildebeest: These poor guys definitely got the short end of the stick with regards to looks.
Baboon: 'Please do not feed the baboons'signs were all over the game lodges, apparently because these naked-bottomed mammals are not shy and will definitely be a nuisance if given the opportunity. They can also be dangerous thanks to sharp teeth.
Egyptian Goose: Not sure what they were doing in Kenya, but these white and red feathered birds enjoyed being close to water.
Water buffalo: Cheers to sally, proud sponsor of her very own water buffalo through Heifer International. We saw many male and female water buffalos, but by far the most interesting time was in Tsavo East when an entire herd crossed the road in front of our van.
Sacred ibis: Tall bird with black head and tail.
Lion: Michael told us that lions mate every 15 minutes for 7 days straight. Perhaps they were tired when we saw them (or more likely the male was pretty old), but we did watch a male and female sleeping in the shade of a shrub a mere 50 ft from us in Amboseli. We caught sight of another female one of these elusive creatures in Tsavo East, just returning from a bath.
Buzzard: Easily confused with an eagle (they actually look very similar), these guys had lots of work to do in Amboseli because, due to the drought plaguing Kenya at the time, carcasses abounded.
Grey crowned crane: Caught one of these feeding next to a herd of elephants and water buffalo.
Ostrich: Awkward and feather-filled, just as you learned in elementary school.
Yellow-billed egret: Saw him hanging out with his friends the sacred ibises.
Hippopotamus: We saw some half-submerged in the semi-swamps of Amboseli, but the most unique sighting was at Mzima Springs in Tsavo West where we saw the outline of a huge hippo underwater via a submerged viewing platform that felt like something straight out of the Dharma Initiative.
Black-backed jackal: Sorry buddy, Lauren says there's nothing special about you.
Hyena: Brutish looking with long necks, we unfortunately didn't hear them laugh but did mistake a sleeping one for a lion once... not sure how that happened.
Secretary bird: many looking with a funny hairdo.
Warthog: hanging out near the elephants, these guys put on a big show for us by stopping to poop.
Thomson's gazelle: Strikingly similar to the impala and no less graceful.
Greater kudus: Stopped to pose for us but unfortunatelyl didn't come out too clear in the photos thanks to the lack of auto-focus compatibility between my camera base and monster lens. I guess it's just an excuse to get a new camera!
Giraffe: Definitely striking, these regal animals were "probably my favorites" according to Lauren. Unlike Zebras, every giraffe sighting warranted a stop, some photos and more than a couple oos and ahs.
Water buck: Antelope family, nothing too special really. We saw quite a few of them and the females have beards whereas the men don't.
Red-headed agama: Lauren had a blast trying to watch the male mate the female but, according to Lauren, he could just never close the deal. Oh, and this all took place over lunch at the Serena Kilanguni Lodge in Tsavo West. These little showoffs (they do pushups when in the presence of a female) also made an appearance at the Voi Lodge in Tsavo East.
Dik-dik: Mini deer of sorts, these guys were very close to winning the 'cutest animal of the safari' award.
Rock hyrax: One of Voi Lodge's bars in the Hyrax Bar; and for good reason. We saw this friendly little guy hanging out on the wall right outside the entrance to the bar after lunch but decided against petting him for fear of rabies.
Hartebeest: Not as ugly as its wilde' cousin, this guy is easily confused with a water buck.
Crocodile: Mizima Springs in Tsavo West provided us the opportunity to see two of these deadly guys. One was a baby resting on a log by a creek and the other was, much to the surprised of our Kalashnikov-wielding guide through Mzima, an adolescent waiting on a crocodile viewing platform for the next unsuspecting tourist (luckily not us).
Spectacled weaver: Little yellow birds that build their nests on far-flung branches to protect their young from snakes.
Reichenow's weaver: The cousins of the spectacled weaver, also yellow and small, joined us for dinner at the Kilanguni Lodge in Tsavo West.
Greater blue-eared starling: Also viewed from our primo table at the lodge in Tsavo West.
Leopard: Veteran safari-ers, of whom we saw many - including the guides, always talk about seeing the elusive 'big cats.' Often people won't consider the safari a success unless they get to see a lion, leopard or cheetah. If they're very hardcore they'll be disappointed if they don't see them all. Lauren and I carried none of these yearnings, and by the third day we had seen many animals (including lions) and experienced the beauty and grandeur of three of Kenya's great national parks. On a 3-day safari - considered rushed by most although I'm not sure how many days in a row I can stand looking at animals - it was unlikely we'd see the other 2 big cats (we had seen a lion); so it was a huge surprise when I spotted a leopard resting in the shade of two trees. STOP! I told Michaels who had, for the first time all safari missed an animal. What is that?
"That, my friend, is a leopard!" He immediately got on the short wave radio to inform other guides of the spotting. I very much like this practice of sharing despite being with competing companies; everyone wants everyone else to have a wonderful safari. Unfortunately for the others, our leopard only stuck around for a couple of minutes and, before anyone else could see her, she vanished into the depths of Tsavo East. According to Michael, who ate dinner with the other guides and continuously monitored the radio, we were the only people in Kenya that day to see a Leopard!
"You got a picture, right Erol?" Michael said trying hard to mask his excitement.
Yes, sir. Indeed I did.
African wild dog: If Michael was giddy over seeing the notoriously reclusive leopard, he was terrified when we came upon a pack of African wild dogs playing and bathing in a shallow mud pool. Apparently these deceptively cute, and also difficult to see in the wild, animals would attack and eat anything, from lions to the tires of vans like ours. Luckily this bunch didn't seem to care we were there and after a few photos we went on our merry way.
Helmeted guineafowl: Caught trying to hide in the brush but they were no match for Michael!
Marabou stork: Captured on film at the semi-arid entrance to Tsavo East, this guy looked like every cartoon vulture I've ever seen. Apparently he was a stork though.
Black-headed heron: This one's for you Baba!
Bushbuck: This male decided to pose for us nicely, not concerned one bit about the noise of the van.
Kori bustard: Despite the unfortunate name, this bird had some very interesting spots just on the bottom front side of its wings.
Savanna monitor lizard: This mini-crocodile-looking lizard definitely wins the award for best animal walk, which was a cross between a waddle and a saunter, all the while moving his money-maker from side to side.
Ground hornbill: Dirk let out a gasp when he saw this picture. Apparently his girlfriend had spent 3 years bird watching and had only last month seen one of these birds in the wild. I told him not to tell her we saw it and didn't even know what we were looking at... it might upset her.
Oxpecker: A crucial part of the ecological system, this bird eats ticks off the skin of large animals like buffalos.
Cattle egret: Small but thin white bird caught hanging out with a hippo.
41 one animals in all, which is undoubtedly less than what we actually saw but all that was captured on film.
Many thanks to the 'National Audubon Society Field Guide to African Wildlife' and my colleague Dirk for helping identify the animals in the photos.
Impala: You can see where chevy got the inspiration with these slick and graceful beasts that usually travel in groups. Also, apparently they taste bad so lions don't like to eat them.
Zebra: You know you're on safari when seeing a zebra becomes routine and not even worth stopping for a picture after a while.
Elephant: We saw lots of these and doing so never got old. Majestic and oddly graceful, their personalities were readily apparent. They usually travel in families and are colored based on the color of the water - i.e. clear water means the local elephants will be grey, muddy water they're brown. Probably one of the best moments of the entire safari was in Tsavo East where we witnessed an entire family of elephants (including babies) playing and cooling off in a mud hole after a rain.
Wildebeest: These poor guys definitely got the short end of the stick with regards to looks.
Baboon: 'Please do not feed the baboons'signs were all over the game lodges, apparently because these naked-bottomed mammals are not shy and will definitely be a nuisance if given the opportunity. They can also be dangerous thanks to sharp teeth.
Egyptian Goose: Not sure what they were doing in Kenya, but these white and red feathered birds enjoyed being close to water.
Water buffalo: Cheers to sally, proud sponsor of her very own water buffalo through Heifer International. We saw many male and female water buffalos, but by far the most interesting time was in Tsavo East when an entire herd crossed the road in front of our van.
Sacred ibis: Tall bird with black head and tail.
Lion: Michael told us that lions mate every 15 minutes for 7 days straight. Perhaps they were tired when we saw them (or more likely the male was pretty old), but we did watch a male and female sleeping in the shade of a shrub a mere 50 ft from us in Amboseli. We caught sight of another female one of these elusive creatures in Tsavo East, just returning from a bath.
Buzzard: Easily confused with an eagle (they actually look very similar), these guys had lots of work to do in Amboseli because, due to the drought plaguing Kenya at the time, carcasses abounded.
Grey crowned crane: Caught one of these feeding next to a herd of elephants and water buffalo.
Ostrich: Awkward and feather-filled, just as you learned in elementary school.
Yellow-billed egret: Saw him hanging out with his friends the sacred ibises.
Hippopotamus: We saw some half-submerged in the semi-swamps of Amboseli, but the most unique sighting was at Mzima Springs in Tsavo West where we saw the outline of a huge hippo underwater via a submerged viewing platform that felt like something straight out of the Dharma Initiative.
Black-backed jackal: Sorry buddy, Lauren says there's nothing special about you.
Hyena: Brutish looking with long necks, we unfortunately didn't hear them laugh but did mistake a sleeping one for a lion once... not sure how that happened.
Secretary bird: many looking with a funny hairdo.
Warthog: hanging out near the elephants, these guys put on a big show for us by stopping to poop.
Thomson's gazelle: Strikingly similar to the impala and no less graceful.
Greater kudus: Stopped to pose for us but unfortunatelyl didn't come out too clear in the photos thanks to the lack of auto-focus compatibility between my camera base and monster lens. I guess it's just an excuse to get a new camera!
Giraffe: Definitely striking, these regal animals were "probably my favorites" according to Lauren. Unlike Zebras, every giraffe sighting warranted a stop, some photos and more than a couple oos and ahs.
Water buck: Antelope family, nothing too special really. We saw quite a few of them and the females have beards whereas the men don't.
Red-headed agama: Lauren had a blast trying to watch the male mate the female but, according to Lauren, he could just never close the deal. Oh, and this all took place over lunch at the Serena Kilanguni Lodge in Tsavo West. These little showoffs (they do pushups when in the presence of a female) also made an appearance at the Voi Lodge in Tsavo East.
Dik-dik: Mini deer of sorts, these guys were very close to winning the 'cutest animal of the safari' award.
Rock hyrax: One of Voi Lodge's bars in the Hyrax Bar; and for good reason. We saw this friendly little guy hanging out on the wall right outside the entrance to the bar after lunch but decided against petting him for fear of rabies.
Hartebeest: Not as ugly as its wilde' cousin, this guy is easily confused with a water buck.
Crocodile: Mizima Springs in Tsavo West provided us the opportunity to see two of these deadly guys. One was a baby resting on a log by a creek and the other was, much to the surprised of our Kalashnikov-wielding guide through Mzima, an adolescent waiting on a crocodile viewing platform for the next unsuspecting tourist (luckily not us).
Spectacled weaver: Little yellow birds that build their nests on far-flung branches to protect their young from snakes.
Reichenow's weaver: The cousins of the spectacled weaver, also yellow and small, joined us for dinner at the Kilanguni Lodge in Tsavo West.
Greater blue-eared starling: Also viewed from our primo table at the lodge in Tsavo West.
Leopard: Veteran safari-ers, of whom we saw many - including the guides, always talk about seeing the elusive 'big cats.' Often people won't consider the safari a success unless they get to see a lion, leopard or cheetah. If they're very hardcore they'll be disappointed if they don't see them all. Lauren and I carried none of these yearnings, and by the third day we had seen many animals (including lions) and experienced the beauty and grandeur of three of Kenya's great national parks. On a 3-day safari - considered rushed by most although I'm not sure how many days in a row I can stand looking at animals - it was unlikely we'd see the other 2 big cats (we had seen a lion); so it was a huge surprise when I spotted a leopard resting in the shade of two trees. STOP! I told Michaels who had, for the first time all safari missed an animal. What is that?
"That, my friend, is a leopard!" He immediately got on the short wave radio to inform other guides of the spotting. I very much like this practice of sharing despite being with competing companies; everyone wants everyone else to have a wonderful safari. Unfortunately for the others, our leopard only stuck around for a couple of minutes and, before anyone else could see her, she vanished into the depths of Tsavo East. According to Michael, who ate dinner with the other guides and continuously monitored the radio, we were the only people in Kenya that day to see a Leopard!
"You got a picture, right Erol?" Michael said trying hard to mask his excitement.
Yes, sir. Indeed I did.
African wild dog: If Michael was giddy over seeing the notoriously reclusive leopard, he was terrified when we came upon a pack of African wild dogs playing and bathing in a shallow mud pool. Apparently these deceptively cute, and also difficult to see in the wild, animals would attack and eat anything, from lions to the tires of vans like ours. Luckily this bunch didn't seem to care we were there and after a few photos we went on our merry way.
Helmeted guineafowl: Caught trying to hide in the brush but they were no match for Michael!
Marabou stork: Captured on film at the semi-arid entrance to Tsavo East, this guy looked like every cartoon vulture I've ever seen. Apparently he was a stork though.
Black-headed heron: This one's for you Baba!
Bushbuck: This male decided to pose for us nicely, not concerned one bit about the noise of the van.
Kori bustard: Despite the unfortunate name, this bird had some very interesting spots just on the bottom front side of its wings.
Savanna monitor lizard: This mini-crocodile-looking lizard definitely wins the award for best animal walk, which was a cross between a waddle and a saunter, all the while moving his money-maker from side to side.
Ground hornbill: Dirk let out a gasp when he saw this picture. Apparently his girlfriend had spent 3 years bird watching and had only last month seen one of these birds in the wild. I told him not to tell her we saw it and didn't even know what we were looking at... it might upset her.
Oxpecker: A crucial part of the ecological system, this bird eats ticks off the skin of large animals like buffalos.
Cattle egret: Small but thin white bird caught hanging out with a hippo.
41 one animals in all, which is undoubtedly less than what we actually saw but all that was captured on film.
November 4 - Nairobi
If possible, the drive to the airport the next morning was more harrowing than the night before. Needing to drop off our vehicle at the arrivals terminal, we had arranged for Eastern and Southern to pick us up for our safari at 8am. They, we found out after finally making it, had left before 7am, knowing that traffic after 7:30am in Nairobi is terrible. We left the hotel at 7:27.
Relying on Lauren's Blackberry to provide directions, we immediately got stuck in traffic. However, this traffic was different than the night before because her phone had decided it would be more fun to take us through the center of Nairobi instead of the larger outskirt roads we knew from before. All the usual suspects were there - mini buses, pedestrians, potholes - but somehow the morning produced more of each and my hands soon bore indentations from the streering wheel.
Nairobi is a relatively young city, compared with other areas in what was probably the cradle of cizilization. When the British arrived in Kenya in the late 19th century they began building a railroad from the coast (Mombasa) inland, ostensiblyto give them better access to the jungles of Uganda. In any case, the Brits imported thousands of laborers from what was then Punjab (India and parts of Pakistan today) to build the railroad since the natives did not have the skills and familiarities with tools to do the job. Braving man-eating lions, disease and other joys of rural Kenya, the work on the railroad eventually resulted in the settlement of many sub-continentals in a location that would later become Nairobi. Today the Indian culture is still very visible although the city - which later became Kenya's capital after Jomo Kenyatta liberated it from British colonial rule - is dominated by native Kenyans who moved to the city and, at some point, converted to Christianity.
Somewhere during this story of Nairobi, someone thought it would be a good idea to place traffic circles every 200m. He or she was wrong. These circles quickly became the bain of my driving experience and more than oce a blind guess as to which éxit'to take miraculously resulted in us still being on the correct road.
Finally though, our luck ran out and, after 10 minutes of hoping we were on the right road, we were a bit lost.
"Oh the airport?" said the nice man in a suit at a gas station. "You are a bit lost."
He was right, but luckily his directions were spot on (especially his note about looking for the elephants... but not real elephants) and we rolled into the airport less than 30 minutes late.
Relying on Lauren's Blackberry to provide directions, we immediately got stuck in traffic. However, this traffic was different than the night before because her phone had decided it would be more fun to take us through the center of Nairobi instead of the larger outskirt roads we knew from before. All the usual suspects were there - mini buses, pedestrians, potholes - but somehow the morning produced more of each and my hands soon bore indentations from the streering wheel.
Nairobi is a relatively young city, compared with other areas in what was probably the cradle of cizilization. When the British arrived in Kenya in the late 19th century they began building a railroad from the coast (Mombasa) inland, ostensiblyto give them better access to the jungles of Uganda. In any case, the Brits imported thousands of laborers from what was then Punjab (India and parts of Pakistan today) to build the railroad since the natives did not have the skills and familiarities with tools to do the job. Braving man-eating lions, disease and other joys of rural Kenya, the work on the railroad eventually resulted in the settlement of many sub-continentals in a location that would later become Nairobi. Today the Indian culture is still very visible although the city - which later became Kenya's capital after Jomo Kenyatta liberated it from British colonial rule - is dominated by native Kenyans who moved to the city and, at some point, converted to Christianity.
Somewhere during this story of Nairobi, someone thought it would be a good idea to place traffic circles every 200m. He or she was wrong. These circles quickly became the bain of my driving experience and more than oce a blind guess as to which éxit'to take miraculously resulted in us still being on the correct road.
Finally though, our luck ran out and, after 10 minutes of hoping we were on the right road, we were a bit lost.
"Oh the airport?" said the nice man in a suit at a gas station. "You are a bit lost."
He was right, but luckily his directions were spot on (especially his note about looking for the elephants... but not real elephants) and we rolled into the airport less than 30 minutes late.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
November 3 - Nairobi
"I'm sorry sir, your car is not here yet. I don't know where it is and the driver won't pick up his phone."
But I reserved it 3 weeks ago... nevermind. Do you have any vehicles available?
"We have a 4x4 for $169. Or, if you'd like, we can ask them if they have one," the tall woman in the Budget Rent-a-Car office said as she pointed to the next office over. I had completely missed this other office on the way in because, having arrived an hour earlier from Dubai, it had taken quite a while for our bags to arrive and we were losing daylight fast.
"Yes, but their car is only $70. Don't you think that's a better deal?"
Thoroughly confused by now as to why Budget would be sending me to a competitor and more than a little skeptical about said competitor, I did what any irrational human being would've thought was completely normal.
I'll take the $70 one.
10 minutes later we were sputtering away in a white Toyota Corolla which I'm pretty sure was sombody's brother's car they had borrowed to make a little cash. Nevermind that though - or the suspicious-looking canvas bag in the back window - the car seemed to run and we would certainly blend in with the crowd. Nairobi is not quite known for its vast array of luxury cars apparently, and after having been driven from the hotel to the Dubai airport in a Lexus, this was quite a change.
A few u-turns after leaving the airport, I noticed something funny. Either the gas gauge was broken or we had no fuel; as in, I didn't know the dial could physically go that far past the 'E.' $40 later, courtesy of a fortuitous Shell station sighting, it became apparent that whoever it was's brother hadn't put gas in his car in quite a while.
I learned very quickly that, despite being on the opposite side of the road, driving in Nairobi was a lot like driving in Istanbul. If one simply followed several rules, one would be just fine:
The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust was impressive. Although we spent less than an hour there, it was obvious that the animals were well-taken-care-of and the folks working there truly cared. Tano, a 6-month-old orphan elephant, lived in a spacious pen along with her 24/7 caretaker. This man, who's name I sadly could not pronounce and can't remember, was obviously a huge part of Tano's life. As we petted the tough skin and sparse hair on her head, she clung with her trunk to her caretaker's leg, glancing up at us occasionally through wary eyes. Finally, perhaps sensing that we had come in peace, she released his leg and 'shook' Lauren's hand with her trunk in a moment that made the entire trip worth it.
Back out in the parking lot, Lauren and I were preparing for our next adventure - finding our hotel in the dark - when a tall, nice looking man approached us.
"Are you going into town? if so, would you mind if I rode with you?"
Murderer? Con artist?
Sure, I said, hop in. I think I was led to give a ride to this complete stranger because in his hand was a $1000 camera and an even more expensive lens.
"Thank you so much. My name is Mudiari and I'm a photographer for the Daily Nation. It would've taken me forever to get back to the office by bus at this time of night. Here's my card."
It turns out that Stephen Mudiari was indeed a professional photographer on assignment for Kenya's largest daily to do interest pieces in the run up to the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. He had been selected as one of only six people to have this honor. So what brought him out to the Trust?
"I had heard that the baby elephants play football and I had to come see for myself."
So... do they?
"As a matter of fact, they do!"
Mudiari was actually not a big football (soccer) fan, but had been selected to cover the event nonetheless next summer. I noted that not being a fan probably made him a better, more focused photographer. Not caring about the match he would be able to stay glued to the camera even in the most exciting moments.
We agreed that we would drop him off at our hotel which served a dual purpose: he would get a ride into town and we would get our own personal guide. Unfortunately, upon arriving at our hotel we found out that our reservation had been changed to another hotel without our knowledge because construction had closed several Sarova Panafric rooms - including ours. T.I.A. - this is Africa.
Deciding that food was first priority at this point, we ate at the Panafric then set out on yet another - mercifully our last of the night - adventure. Of course, it took us about 5 minutes to get lost despite the 'simple' directions and assurances from the Panafric front desk person that it was very easy to find. He was wrong, but eventually we did find Hotel Jacaranda, a nice, quiet place with clean rooms and mosquito net under which we were soon asleep.
But I reserved it 3 weeks ago... nevermind. Do you have any vehicles available?
"We have a 4x4 for $169. Or, if you'd like, we can ask them if they have one," the tall woman in the Budget Rent-a-Car office said as she pointed to the next office over. I had completely missed this other office on the way in because, having arrived an hour earlier from Dubai, it had taken quite a while for our bags to arrive and we were losing daylight fast.
- I didn't want to drive in rush hour Nairobi traffic - on the wrong side of the road mind you - for the first time in the dark.
- We had an appointment to see Tano - the baby elephant that Lauren and I sponsored in honor of my nephew Josh - in an hour and the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust (Tano's home) was at least 45 minutes away without traffic.
"Yes, but their car is only $70. Don't you think that's a better deal?"
Thoroughly confused by now as to why Budget would be sending me to a competitor and more than a little skeptical about said competitor, I did what any irrational human being would've thought was completely normal.
I'll take the $70 one.
10 minutes later we were sputtering away in a white Toyota Corolla which I'm pretty sure was sombody's brother's car they had borrowed to make a little cash. Nevermind that though - or the suspicious-looking canvas bag in the back window - the car seemed to run and we would certainly blend in with the crowd. Nairobi is not quite known for its vast array of luxury cars apparently, and after having been driven from the hotel to the Dubai airport in a Lexus, this was quite a change.
A few u-turns after leaving the airport, I noticed something funny. Either the gas gauge was broken or we had no fuel; as in, I didn't know the dial could physically go that far past the 'E.' $40 later, courtesy of a fortuitous Shell station sighting, it became apparent that whoever it was's brother hadn't put gas in his car in quite a while.
I learned very quickly that, despite being on the opposite side of the road, driving in Nairobi was a lot like driving in Istanbul. If one simply followed several rules, one would be just fine:
- Never show fear. As a matter of fact, don't even look at your fellow drivers to give them the impression you're not paying attention. Sunglasses help with this allusion;
- If your bumper is in front of his bumper, you have the right-of-way;
- Red lights are merely suggestions;
- Mini buses will stop unexpectedly in any lane at any time. We were told later that these bus drivers have to get ~3000 paying customers per day just to break even;
- It's like a video game, except that if you hit a pedestrian 'Game Over - Insert Coin' is the least of your worries.
The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust was impressive. Although we spent less than an hour there, it was obvious that the animals were well-taken-care-of and the folks working there truly cared. Tano, a 6-month-old orphan elephant, lived in a spacious pen along with her 24/7 caretaker. This man, who's name I sadly could not pronounce and can't remember, was obviously a huge part of Tano's life. As we petted the tough skin and sparse hair on her head, she clung with her trunk to her caretaker's leg, glancing up at us occasionally through wary eyes. Finally, perhaps sensing that we had come in peace, she released his leg and 'shook' Lauren's hand with her trunk in a moment that made the entire trip worth it.
Back out in the parking lot, Lauren and I were preparing for our next adventure - finding our hotel in the dark - when a tall, nice looking man approached us.
"Are you going into town? if so, would you mind if I rode with you?"
Murderer? Con artist?
Sure, I said, hop in. I think I was led to give a ride to this complete stranger because in his hand was a $1000 camera and an even more expensive lens.
"Thank you so much. My name is Mudiari and I'm a photographer for the Daily Nation. It would've taken me forever to get back to the office by bus at this time of night. Here's my card."
It turns out that Stephen Mudiari was indeed a professional photographer on assignment for Kenya's largest daily to do interest pieces in the run up to the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. He had been selected as one of only six people to have this honor. So what brought him out to the Trust?
"I had heard that the baby elephants play football and I had to come see for myself."
So... do they?
"As a matter of fact, they do!"
Mudiari was actually not a big football (soccer) fan, but had been selected to cover the event nonetheless next summer. I noted that not being a fan probably made him a better, more focused photographer. Not caring about the match he would be able to stay glued to the camera even in the most exciting moments.
We agreed that we would drop him off at our hotel which served a dual purpose: he would get a ride into town and we would get our own personal guide. Unfortunately, upon arriving at our hotel we found out that our reservation had been changed to another hotel without our knowledge because construction had closed several Sarova Panafric rooms - including ours. T.I.A. - this is Africa.
Deciding that food was first priority at this point, we ate at the Panafric then set out on yet another - mercifully our last of the night - adventure. Of course, it took us about 5 minutes to get lost despite the 'simple' directions and assurances from the Panafric front desk person that it was very easy to find. He was wrong, but eventually we did find Hotel Jacaranda, a nice, quiet place with clean rooms and mosquito net under which we were soon asleep.
Monday, November 2, 2009
November 2 - Dubai
We began the day at a hospital and almost ended at a police station. Not satisfied with an extravagant shopping experience that satiates the average tourist in Dubai, Lauren and I decided to go on a ‘desert safari’ – not too outlandish (as was evident by the multitude of other visitors there) but unique in our own, unforgettable way.
The day started as most often do not, with a quick trip to Dubai’s (hopefully not) finest public hospital. Arriving at a vehicle gate – the only entrance I could see without a padlock on it – we found a couple of bored-looking security guards, to whom I promptly made the hand signal commonly used for “I need a vaccine” before awkwardly realizing that they spoke English.
I need a vaccine, where do I go?
“Follow the road then turn right.”
The ‘hospital’ was essentially a series of white, one-story buildings that had obviously seen better days. Overgrown foliage everywhere, especially on what seemed to be a playground in the distant past, didn’t help the picture. Finally we found the ‘Travelers Clinic,” from where I would be inoculated and, lo and behold, yellow fever was injected into my system.
After the hospital, we walked back to the hotel through a neighborhood that probably could’ve just have easily been in Mumbai. Dubai is basically an extension of India with a few Arabs – distinctly dressed in white robes to differentiate themselves from the proletariat – scattered about to periodically remind you that you’re still in the Middle East.
For those that have an urge to experience Arab culture in Dubai, the hotel (and no doubt Lonely Planet ‘experts’) recommended the spice and gold souks just down the road. Unfortunately, even in November, the walk along the Dubai Creek from the hotel to the markets was borderline oppressively hot, leaving yours truly in a not-so-happy mood. Add to that the fact that the souk was child’s play compared to Istanbul’s – even Ankara’s – markets… Lauren and I decided to return to the Radisson to enjoy one of their 14 (no joke) restaurants.
Some very tasty/pricey Chinese food later, it was time to be picked up for the first of two ‘safaris’ we would take on this vacation. This one appropriately has the word ‘desert’ attached to the front and, before long, Lauren and I were weaving through afternoon Dubai traffic courtesy of our, you guessed it, Indian tour guide/driver. The Land Cruiser was thankfully equipped with AC and copious amounts of Michael Jackson throwbacks, not to mention a decorative Toyota hood ornament that probably was not standard issue. Crammed into the very back of the car, Lauren promptly fell asleep while I feared for our lives, all the while waving to drivers that my new young Indian friend had just cut off.
Finally we arrived at the turnoff point to the middle of no where.
“Please seat belt.”
No problemo chief.
After some discussion, Lauren and I decided that our fellow three passengers were friends of the driver. Unfortunately it’s hard to know for sure because we were summarily ignored (not that I’m complaining about that part) and, alas, do not speak Hindi. In any case, it was time for our guide to put on his proverbial cape and take us on a ride we would never forget.
Dune-bashing, as it is called, consists of the driver driving skillfully (or recklessly) over a series of sand dunes, giving the passengers a roller-coaster-like experience, complete with grabbing anything you can and a nagging sense of nausea. Finally, the bashing ceased inexplicably in the middle of a circle of dunes; it was time for pictures and/or catching one’s breath. For me, it was time to actively keep my fried rice in my stomach where it belonged.
Done with our first bout of maniacal driving, we were dropped off at what appeared to be a cross between a desert zoo and luna park, except that bumper cars were replaced with four-wheelers and the main attraction was an understandably irate camel.
Our driver lowered the air in the tires, apparently to give us more traction in the sand, and we were off again. We had been told that the evening would eventually end in dinner at a Bedouin camp in the middle of the desert, but to get there we would have to bash some more dunes. Don’t get me wrong, I was simultaneously impressed and thrilled by the experience that was, I must say, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Those of you that know me know that roller coasters aren’t my favorite pastime, but this was a separate experience altogether – not for the faint of heart and definitely not for children.
After a quick stop to catch the setting sun across the vast expanse of sand (Lauren’s question: are there more grains of sand on the earth that stars in the sky? Think about it…), we met up with another Ibex Travel Land Cruiser and continued our quest.
It was about that time that our experience became a little more interesting. The techniques used by our driver, skillful though they may have been, had seemed to us a bit reckless the entire trip. Whether to impress his friends or give the white people in the back the time of our lives, I sensed that therewas a fine line between thrill and danger. As he approached a steep incline sideways, the car in front deftly angled the hood towards the sky, in essence skidding the vehicle along until it found more level ground. Our driver attempted the same feat, but half way through we felt the left two tires slowly lift off the ground…
Here we go, was all I managed to murmur as our bodies strained against the seat belt, the car first turning over onto its roof then continuing the roll down the hill, ultimately coming to rest right-side up after sliding a few more feet at an awkward angle.
I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
Luckily everyone was fine and Lauren immediately reveled in the fact that not many people would’ve had the experience of rolling over in a car in the desert of the United Arab Emirates. I agreed, but also wondered if I’d get my money back.
The car was eventually dislodged from its resting place by the more experienced driver (our young guy was visibly shaken) and we got back in to continue on. Unfortunately for all, this didn’t last long as something was obviously very wrong with one of the tires, not to mention the spider-webbed windshield that threatened to shatter at any moment. Funny how that happens after a wreck…
This leads us to the Al Madam Police Station. The following bit is entirely my guess as to what happened since my Arabic seemed to be the strongest out of all the passengers and our driver was having trouble lifting his chin off his chest long enough to translate. My guess is that we had come to this desert outpost so that we could all file witness statements as part of the police report needed for insurance purposes. One by one we all stumbled through giving our names (translating Lauren into Arabic was fun), birthdates, etc. to the not-so-amused officer obviously annoyed by the interruption to his people watching activities.
In any case, after the near hour-long detour, we re-started our journey to the elusive desert oasis hungry, amused, and wearing our seat belts. We had switched cars but kept our driver who seemed to be slightly more cautious although still prone to weaving in and out of traffic at high speeds. I guess some people never learn.
The night finally ended with a tasty and touristy dinner preceded by some henna for Lauren and followed by a performance by an angular and slightly manly faced, albeit talented, belly dancer. Needless to say, the first day of our two week trip had been interesting and we were very glad to be back at the hotel later that night.
The day started as most often do not, with a quick trip to Dubai’s (hopefully not) finest public hospital. Arriving at a vehicle gate – the only entrance I could see without a padlock on it – we found a couple of bored-looking security guards, to whom I promptly made the hand signal commonly used for “I need a vaccine” before awkwardly realizing that they spoke English.
I need a vaccine, where do I go?
“Follow the road then turn right.”
The ‘hospital’ was essentially a series of white, one-story buildings that had obviously seen better days. Overgrown foliage everywhere, especially on what seemed to be a playground in the distant past, didn’t help the picture. Finally we found the ‘Travelers Clinic,” from where I would be inoculated and, lo and behold, yellow fever was injected into my system.
After the hospital, we walked back to the hotel through a neighborhood that probably could’ve just have easily been in Mumbai. Dubai is basically an extension of India with a few Arabs – distinctly dressed in white robes to differentiate themselves from the proletariat – scattered about to periodically remind you that you’re still in the Middle East.
For those that have an urge to experience Arab culture in Dubai, the hotel (and no doubt Lonely Planet ‘experts’) recommended the spice and gold souks just down the road. Unfortunately, even in November, the walk along the Dubai Creek from the hotel to the markets was borderline oppressively hot, leaving yours truly in a not-so-happy mood. Add to that the fact that the souk was child’s play compared to Istanbul’s – even Ankara’s – markets… Lauren and I decided to return to the Radisson to enjoy one of their 14 (no joke) restaurants.
Some very tasty/pricey Chinese food later, it was time to be picked up for the first of two ‘safaris’ we would take on this vacation. This one appropriately has the word ‘desert’ attached to the front and, before long, Lauren and I were weaving through afternoon Dubai traffic courtesy of our, you guessed it, Indian tour guide/driver. The Land Cruiser was thankfully equipped with AC and copious amounts of Michael Jackson throwbacks, not to mention a decorative Toyota hood ornament that probably was not standard issue. Crammed into the very back of the car, Lauren promptly fell asleep while I feared for our lives, all the while waving to drivers that my new young Indian friend had just cut off.
Finally we arrived at the turnoff point to the middle of no where.
“Please seat belt.”
No problemo chief.
After some discussion, Lauren and I decided that our fellow three passengers were friends of the driver. Unfortunately it’s hard to know for sure because we were summarily ignored (not that I’m complaining about that part) and, alas, do not speak Hindi. In any case, it was time for our guide to put on his proverbial cape and take us on a ride we would never forget.
Dune-bashing, as it is called, consists of the driver driving skillfully (or recklessly) over a series of sand dunes, giving the passengers a roller-coaster-like experience, complete with grabbing anything you can and a nagging sense of nausea. Finally, the bashing ceased inexplicably in the middle of a circle of dunes; it was time for pictures and/or catching one’s breath. For me, it was time to actively keep my fried rice in my stomach where it belonged.
Done with our first bout of maniacal driving, we were dropped off at what appeared to be a cross between a desert zoo and luna park, except that bumper cars were replaced with four-wheelers and the main attraction was an understandably irate camel.
Our driver lowered the air in the tires, apparently to give us more traction in the sand, and we were off again. We had been told that the evening would eventually end in dinner at a Bedouin camp in the middle of the desert, but to get there we would have to bash some more dunes. Don’t get me wrong, I was simultaneously impressed and thrilled by the experience that was, I must say, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Those of you that know me know that roller coasters aren’t my favorite pastime, but this was a separate experience altogether – not for the faint of heart and definitely not for children.
After a quick stop to catch the setting sun across the vast expanse of sand (Lauren’s question: are there more grains of sand on the earth that stars in the sky? Think about it…), we met up with another Ibex Travel Land Cruiser and continued our quest.
It was about that time that our experience became a little more interesting. The techniques used by our driver, skillful though they may have been, had seemed to us a bit reckless the entire trip. Whether to impress his friends or give the white people in the back the time of our lives, I sensed that therewas a fine line between thrill and danger. As he approached a steep incline sideways, the car in front deftly angled the hood towards the sky, in essence skidding the vehicle along until it found more level ground. Our driver attempted the same feat, but half way through we felt the left two tires slowly lift off the ground…
Here we go, was all I managed to murmur as our bodies strained against the seat belt, the car first turning over onto its roof then continuing the roll down the hill, ultimately coming to rest right-side up after sliding a few more feet at an awkward angle.
I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
Luckily everyone was fine and Lauren immediately reveled in the fact that not many people would’ve had the experience of rolling over in a car in the desert of the United Arab Emirates. I agreed, but also wondered if I’d get my money back.
The car was eventually dislodged from its resting place by the more experienced driver (our young guy was visibly shaken) and we got back in to continue on. Unfortunately for all, this didn’t last long as something was obviously very wrong with one of the tires, not to mention the spider-webbed windshield that threatened to shatter at any moment. Funny how that happens after a wreck…
This leads us to the Al Madam Police Station. The following bit is entirely my guess as to what happened since my Arabic seemed to be the strongest out of all the passengers and our driver was having trouble lifting his chin off his chest long enough to translate. My guess is that we had come to this desert outpost so that we could all file witness statements as part of the police report needed for insurance purposes. One by one we all stumbled through giving our names (translating Lauren into Arabic was fun), birthdates, etc. to the not-so-amused officer obviously annoyed by the interruption to his people watching activities.
In any case, after the near hour-long detour, we re-started our journey to the elusive desert oasis hungry, amused, and wearing our seat belts. We had switched cars but kept our driver who seemed to be slightly more cautious although still prone to weaving in and out of traffic at high speeds. I guess some people never learn.
The night finally ended with a tasty and touristy dinner preceded by some henna for Lauren and followed by a performance by an angular and slightly manly faced, albeit talented, belly dancer. Needless to say, the first day of our two week trip had been interesting and we were very glad to be back at the hotel later that night.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Babylon
Babylon means different things to different people. To the writers of HBO's 'Carnivale' it was the holy grail, the place where good and evil would finally meet and have one last epic battle. To Biblical scholars, the land of the Babylonians (otherwise known as Babel) contained a massive tower housing thousands of people who, thanks to an ongoing bout of irreverence to God, spoke in a confusing mix of unintelligible dialects. To those of you with proverbial green thumbs... well, I bet you think the Hanging Gardens are pretty neat.
To Iraqis, the story of Babylon is an all too familiar one of former glory marred by poor decision making and megalomania. An archeologist's paradise, the actual ancient city of Babylon is vast - no less than 2 square kilometers - and contains who-knows-how-many undiscovered keys to understanding a civilization that roamed these same streets some 25,000 years ago. Like most of Iraq, the area around the site is very flat and arid; but once you enter the vicinity of what used to be King Nimrod's (the founder of the city) stomping grounds, hills abound. Apparently these hills, a natural by-product of centuries of neglect, cover up the markets, homes, and bath houses of the old city. Unfortunately, western archeologists don't exactly have full access to the site due to a number of complications (the existence of more weapons per capita in Iraq than any country in the world plays a minor part), so it might be some time before we see what's really there.
Now to the aforementioned megalomaniac. It's no secret that Saddam Hussein liked himself... a lot. Unfortunately for for the ancient city of Babylon, he saw himself as just another ruler in a long line of great kings of Babylon, and in 1983 he set out to make his mark. He decided to try and 'reconstruct' the old city by building new walls and temples on top of the old ones. One of the many problems with this, not withstanding how wrong that is morally even to a non-archeologist like myself, was that he used very poor construction methods. Instead of using mud bricks like the ancients did, he used concrete and fired bricks that, less than 30 years later, are already starting to crumble under the extreme temperatures of southern Iraq. In a tragic final twist, the weight of Saddam's bricks - many of them labeled "This was built by Saddam Hussein, son of Nebuchadnezzar, to glorify Iraq" - are crushing the ancient edifices below.
Nonetheless, the site is fascinating. Knowing that I was walking on stones that have been there since the beginning of recorded history made me pause more than once. I had managed to sneak my way onto a heavily guarded excursion with a State Department consultant by posing as a photographer (I'm sure they would've let me on anyways but it sounds more daring if I make you believe my cunning wit played a part), but here I was just staring at a blank wall, wondering whose blood had been spilled there thousands of years ago and for whose wedding was the place adorned with decorations. It felt somewhat similar to climbing through the caves of Cappadocia or admiring the library at Ephesus; but somehow this was different. Visually, earth tones rule in Babylon, the marble of Turkey's ruins replaced by dust colored bricks with dried mud sealant. Emotionally, a sense of hope for the future preservation of this wonderful place won out over the heavy sorrow caused by Saddam's short-sightedness.
As with most things in Iraq, personalities dictate reality. In some cases this leads to much-needed inter-sectarian dialogue, interstate commerce, etc.; in this case it has led to inactivity. Despite having a staff of 100 people who desperately hold on to the memories of the last Babylon Festival that happened over 10 years ago (giving new meaning to Prince's song about partying in 1999), the ruins of Babylon continue to be heavily guarded yet not visited by tourists of any kind (I'm sure the Japanese would be there in a heartbeat if they could), not to mention littered with bottles, petrified Coke cans and a strong stench of guano.
That's right, bat you-know-what. This delight to the senses was most profound when we were, at one point in the walkabout, shuffled down a flight of stairs to where the German archeologists who first excavated Babylon believed (apparently with little scientific backup) is the foundation for the Hanging Gardens. Breathing through my mouth to avoid passing out, I couldn't help but think of the thousands of other things this place-that-looks-oddly-like-an-underground-warehouse-for-lemons could be.
Finally, as the sun set over one of Saddam's many palaces on an artificial hill, it was time to go home. Walking back to the armored 'sub' (as some affectionately call our monstrous Chevy Suburbans), I took one last quick glance over my shoulder at Saddam's personal playground on top of one of the ancient wonders of the world, wondering what it would've looked like 20,000 years ago.
To Iraqis, the story of Babylon is an all too familiar one of former glory marred by poor decision making and megalomania. An archeologist's paradise, the actual ancient city of Babylon is vast - no less than 2 square kilometers - and contains who-knows-how-many undiscovered keys to understanding a civilization that roamed these same streets some 25,000 years ago. Like most of Iraq, the area around the site is very flat and arid; but once you enter the vicinity of what used to be King Nimrod's (the founder of the city) stomping grounds, hills abound. Apparently these hills, a natural by-product of centuries of neglect, cover up the markets, homes, and bath houses of the old city. Unfortunately, western archeologists don't exactly have full access to the site due to a number of complications (the existence of more weapons per capita in Iraq than any country in the world plays a minor part), so it might be some time before we see what's really there.
Now to the aforementioned megalomaniac. It's no secret that Saddam Hussein liked himself... a lot. Unfortunately for for the ancient city of Babylon, he saw himself as just another ruler in a long line of great kings of Babylon, and in 1983 he set out to make his mark. He decided to try and 'reconstruct' the old city by building new walls and temples on top of the old ones. One of the many problems with this, not withstanding how wrong that is morally even to a non-archeologist like myself, was that he used very poor construction methods. Instead of using mud bricks like the ancients did, he used concrete and fired bricks that, less than 30 years later, are already starting to crumble under the extreme temperatures of southern Iraq. In a tragic final twist, the weight of Saddam's bricks - many of them labeled "This was built by Saddam Hussein, son of Nebuchadnezzar, to glorify Iraq" - are crushing the ancient edifices below.Nonetheless, the site is fascinating. Knowing that I was walking on stones that have been there since the beginning of recorded history made me pause more than once. I had managed to sneak my way onto a heavily guarded excursion with a State Department consultant by posing as a photographer (I'm sure they would've let me on anyways but it sounds more daring if I make you believe my cunning wit played a part), but here I was just staring at a blank wall, wondering whose blood had been spilled there thousands of years ago and for whose wedding was the place adorned with decorations. It felt somewhat similar to climbing through the caves of Cappadocia or admiring the library at Ephesus; but somehow this was different. Visually, earth tones rule in Babylon, the marble of Turkey's ruins replaced by dust colored bricks with dried mud sealant. Emotionally, a sense of hope for the future preservation of this wonderful place won out over the heavy sorrow caused by Saddam's short-sightedness.
That's right, bat you-know-what. This delight to the senses was most profound when we were, at one point in the walkabout, shuffled down a flight of stairs to where the German archeologists who first excavated Babylon believed (apparently with little scientific backup) is the foundation for the Hanging Gardens. Breathing through my mouth to avoid passing out, I couldn't help but think of the thousands of other things this place-that-looks-oddly-like-an-underground-warehouse-for-lemons could be.
Finally, as the sun set over one of Saddam's many palaces on an artificial hill, it was time to go home. Walking back to the armored 'sub' (as some affectionately call our monstrous Chevy Suburbans), I took one last quick glance over my shoulder at Saddam's personal playground on top of one of the ancient wonders of the world, wondering what it would've looked like 20,000 years ago.
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