Nepal - 17,769 Feet Up

To carry my own bag or hire a porter? That was the question I had to answer. One seasoned trekker I met in Pokhara, Nepal said that if my backpack is less than 10 or 20 pounds (I no longer remember the exact weight), then I can do the trek on my own. If my backpack is 20 pounds (?) or more, then I should hire a porter. I felt that I was under this weight but I still had a winter coat to rent. I knew that if I were cold, I would not enjoy the experience in the mountains. Therefore, I decided to rent a very big, red down winter jacket with a fat hood that needed to be stuffed into my backpack. O.K. I was over the tipping point now. I decided to hire a porter. I had read several stories about problems with porters. Therefore, I decided to approach a reputable company. We agreed on payment terms. One of the last things I said as I walked out the door with my new porter was, "He has all the gear he needs, right?" The reply I received was "Yes, he does." Out the door we went.

To make a long story short...3 days later I had to fire my porter named Ramkubar, who was drunk, wearing my hat, and playing the drum in the picture on the right. Ramkubar tried to sleep in my room the first 2 nights. He did not have the proper clothing for the cold. I was afraid he would lose his fingers or toes to frostbite or maybe go blind from the sun. I was not comfortable taking those chances and I was not about to buy him a full set of gear. He could have bought the necessary hand, foot, and eyewear in the next big village, but he was drinking away the money I was giving him each day. I could not have figured all of this out without the help of another trekker's guide, who provided translation between me and my porter. I am eternally grateful to this guide (picture - left side wearing glasses). He really went out on a limb for me by providing the honest translation that I needed to make the right decision. In a huge and embarrassing scene in front of a dozen porters and guides, I fired my porter. I gave my porter enough money for food, lodging, and transportation back to Pokhara. Although I had been wronged by my porter, I still made sure he was able to safely get out of the mountains. For this the other guides, porters, and people in the village respected me.

Although I was now 3 days into the mountain trek without a porter and I had a backpack that was too heavy for me to carry at high altitude, firing my porter was one of the best decisions I made. Based on a suggestion from another trekker, I approached the owner of the lodge I was staying in. I asked him if he could help find me a porter. The lodge owner of course knew everyone who lived in Ngadi, this small village in the mountains. He told me he would have someone for me the next morning.

I will never forget meeting Kumbaru. This was the most awkward and uncomfortable meeting ever. Honestly, I am not proud of my first 15 minute interaction. First, I visually looked him over. Unlike my first porter, Kumbaru had very large, muscular thighs and appeared very sturdy. I felt like I was checking him out like a slave at auction during the days of slavery in the U.S. This was an awful feeling for me, but I could not make another mistake at an even higher altitude. After making a mental note of his physical attributes, I made him dump his bag and show me that he had the appropriate gear to get over the mountains. He had sun glasses, socks, and gloves for his hands. Lastly, I made sure that the lodge owner communicated to Kumbaru that he was never to touch me, sleep in my room, or drink alcohol. With that understandood and a final negotiation on financial terms, we were off. Based on those first 15 minutes I can only imagine Kumbaru was leery of spending a few weeks in the mountains with this insulting western woman.

The next night I reconnected with a couple of Americans I had passed on day 1. It turned out that they were from San Jose, CA, which was only an hour away from my home in San Francisco. Unbelievable! We, along with 1 more American, 2 Canadians, and 1 Australian, trekked the rest of the Annapurna circuit together. This worked out wonderfully because our porters trekked together as well. Now Kumbaru, who spoke no English, had others to hang out with during the daytime treks and the night time meals. Eventually I learned a little Nepalese and Kumbaru learned a little English. We all had a fantastic time together.

The Annapurna circuit took approximately 18 days. Including a couple of days for acclimatizing, we hit Thorung La Pass at 17,769 feet on day eleven. On day eleven we left at roughly 5:00 a.m. and we made it over the pass in groups. I hung back with Heather, the Australian who was ill with Guardia. We were the last to reach Thorung La Pass at around 11 a.m. Descending was awful because we could not find the trail down. We had to slide on our butts over sharp, rocky snow. I even ripped my pants. At one point we were in a valley of snow and we heard a huge cracking noise. Heather and I did not say a word to one another but we started running like crazy. (Note: The pass closed 2 days later due to an avalanche.) Eventually a couple of our group's porters found the two of us and helped us get through the worst of it. At one point with the sun beaming down strong, my legs completely punched through the melting snow and I did a face plant. The two porters had to pull me out of my predicament. I had the hardest time on the descent because of the extreme pain in my knees. Heather and I met up with the others in Muktinath at around 3:30 p.m. Instead of a big group celebration that night, we mostly sat quietly, shaking our heads, and thanking G-d that we made it over. Honestly, we sat in disbelief. Before we made it over the pass, a few of us had thoughts of trekking to Everest Base Camp next. After making it over the pass, those thoughts were erased.

On day 18 our big group split. Since I was enjoying being in the beautiful mountains and Kumbaru was such an amazing porter and now friend, Kumbaru and I continued on to do ABC (Annapurna Base Camp or the inner circuit) while the rest returned to Pokhara. We all said our goodbyes. Kumbaru said goodbye to his new buddies as well.


Now that it was just Kumbaru and I, Kumbaru never took his eyes off of me. My knees were very painful from the thousands of feet of descent. I walked with 2 sticks. Kumbaru walked immediately behind me to make sure I was alright at all times. At one point I had to say to him in Nepalese "I have to use the bathroom. Please walk ahead." I was then able to do a quick squat. I was so fortunate to have had Kumbaru as my porter. It turns out that Kumbaru had never been a porter for a trekker. He normally ported food and other very heavy supplies into the mountains. My backpack, which came with hip support, was considerably lighter than what he normally ported. Our 6 hours of trekking each day was also considerably lighter than what he was used to as well.

Since the inner circuit was at a lower altitude, Kumbaru and I were able to run and goof around on the trail. During our time together I had fun introducing Kumbaru to a Snickers candy bar and also binoculars. He was part of my introduction to dal bhat, which is made up of lentils, Yak cheese, which I absolutely love, and Yak scarf, which kept me warm. When I asked him if he had ever heard of McDonalds, he said no. When I asked him what his life dream was, he said to own land that he could farm. In the back of my mind I have always planned to return to Nepal and buy him that land. He was such a big part of making my experience in Nepal unforgettable. From time to time I wonder how he is doing and I truly hope he is in good health.

When Kumbaru and I eventually parted ways back in Pokhara, I gave him a pair of very thick, wool North Face socks. I had to cut our goodbye a bit short, since I still needed to deal with my "contract" from my first porter. Fortunately, I was able to collect my personal belongings in storage and resolve my remaining financial matters with little difficulty.

India - A Unique Temple

Most of India holds very strong religious beliefs. The dominating religion is Hinduism, which is followed by about 80% of the population. Other religions that are followed include Islam, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism, Christianity, and Judaism. Given the religious fervor, one can not travel through India without visiting a few temples. You should not be surprised if you come across a sign such as the one to the left. Actually, you should be prepared for just about anything as you approach each temple.

If you travel in the north of India, the temples of Khajuraho should not be missed. Unlike religious structures in most of the world, many of the temples in Khajuraho have images of various sexual acts. The carvings on these temples show different sexual pairings and positions between men, women, and animals. Not all the structures are as graphic as the picture to the right. I personally was most impressed with the Jain structures with many detailed non-erotic carvings. Let me just say that Khajuraho is well worth a visit, especially if you arrange to go while there is a festival being celebrated around town.

Although the temples in Khajuraho appear to be in a class of their own, by far the most shocking and unique temple experience I had was at a temple in Bikaner. The temple in Bikaner is known as the rat temple. Supposedly this is a temple devoted to the worship of rats and I had to go see this for myself. I took about a 4 hour bus ride for the sole purpose of visiting the rat temple. When I arrived outside the temple, I was surprised to find out that real rats run freely about the temple and I was required to take off my shoes before entering. Well, I was not mentally prepared to do that. I walked away and sat on a ledge contemplating actually going inside. The thought of rats running across my feet just did not sit well with me. I could not believe that I traveled roughly 4 hours by an old rickety bus and then chickened out from entering the temple. I really was beating myself up over this.

A nice American family had come out of the temple. I asked them what their experience was like. Were there lots of rats or just a few? Did any of them run over their feet? Although they told me there were a lot of rats, none had run over their feet. They told me I should definitely go inside. I really felt like I was being silly but at the same time thoughts of the bubonic plague, which was carried by rats and wiped out roughly 20 million people in Europe, kept creeping into my mind. Eventually one of them volunteered to walk in with me. I finally mustered the courage to do it.

The scene inside the temple was really unbelievable. There literally were thousands of rats running freely. They were treated like royalty. There were big containers with food and milk spread out for the rats to eat and drink. There was even an alter with rats all around where prayers could be said. Honestly this is something you have to see to believe.

Thanks to the American family I met, I managed to view the inside of the rat temple, and I lived to tell about it.

Japan - Fashion Makeover

I lived in Tokyo, Japan for roughly 2 1/2 years from May 1993 - October 1995. During my first summer vacation I made arrangements to do a homestay for a couple of nights in Hiroshima, Japan. I wanted to be in Hiroshima on August 6 so that I could participate in the formal remembrance ceremony of the dropping of the first atomic bomb during WWII. When I got to Hiroshima, I called the young woman who was supposed to pick me up and take me to her home. The young woman came to the train station but then told me that she was unable to have me stay at her home. Instead she had arranged for me to stay with an older couple (see picture above). The older woman arrived at the station in a kimono and spoke limited English. I was very disappointed but I had nowhere else to stay so I went with her.

It turned out that I was the luckiest person because my homestay host was a Sensei or teacher. She did not teach science, math, history, or even Japanese. She taught young women how to put on a kimono and it just so happened that she was holding class one of the nights that I stayed at her house.

Six of her students arrived precisely on time. My host introduced me to her students and then they began to dress. I watched in amazement. The hardest part by far was learning how to tie the obi, which is the very long piece of cloth that is wrapped around the waist and intricately tied and shaped in the back. The students checked each other's work and helped one another with the obi.

To my complete surprise it was now my turn. I could not believe it. I was absolutely thrilled. Not only would I have a chance to put on a kimono, but my host brought me a very special one to put on. This kimono was packed away in a box and perfectly stored. It was a formal wedding kimono.

My host along with her 6 students began to dress me. First they put me in a large white garment with "wings" that almost touched the floor. This white wedding garment is called shiro-maku. Next a white obi was wrapped very, very tightly around my mid section and chest. It was so tight that my large chest became flat and I could not take full breaths in or out. A couple of the students worked on the special box/pillow-like obi tie on my back. Next the exquisite orange outer garment, which is called uchikake, was put on me.

Once I had the proper clothing on, I had to complete the look with the right makeup and accessories. This meant tying my hair back, applying a white, white powder to my face and bright red lipstick to my lips.

The most important accessory came next. From a second storage box my host pulled out a wig and gently placed gold jewelry in it. Then the wig was placed on my head.

Lastly I put on a pair of special white socks that had only 1 slit between the big toe and the second toe. I then slipped into the special wooden shoes called geta.

Thanks to the hard work by my host and her six students, I had finally been transformed into a beautiful bride.

Not only did I get to put on a special wedding kimono with all the makeup and accessories, but I also tried on what I call a formal kimono and a casual kimono. The formal kimono or furisode is usually worn starting at the age of 20 and is made of silk. Its distinguishing characteristic is the long sleeves that go down almost to the floor. These long sleeves can hide money or notes that can be passed along to a romantic interest. The casual kimono or yukata has short sleeves and is often made of linen or cotton for the hot summer days.

Although my initial homestay arrangement did not work out, I honestly could not have been more thrilled with my two hosts. While the Sensei and her students helped dress me, the Sensei's husband captured my fashion makeover on film. Sometimes the best experiences come from a last minute change in plans.

Africa - Cat's Cradle

When it comes to languages, I am mostly stuck with English. The portion in my brain that handles language is just plain weak. Yes, I studied French in high school. Yes, I lived several years in Japan. The truth is that I am just not that good at learning second languages. When traveling through Africa I had the most success with learning some Swahili. I learned my numbers. I also learned a few very important phrases such as "That's expensive. How about a discount?" I never could do any of the African clicking dialects. Like in Europe most of Africa speaks multiple languages. The people of Africa at least know 1) their mother tongue, 2) the language of the village or tribe on either side of them, 3) the national language, and if formally educated, 4) English or French. Most of the places I traveled in Africa were to regions where few were formally educated past the 6th grade, if at all. Therefore, I had to be creative if I wanted to communicate, especially with the children.

Here's what I did. If a child or a group of children were near me, I usually pulled out a string from my pocket. I then started forming cat's whiskers, a broom stick, or Jacob's latter with the string. Once I got their attention, I usually motioned for one of them to come over and play with me. Sometimes I had to prod a little but usually I got one of them to hold out his/her hands. I would then teach him or her to play cat's cradle, a string game that I used to play as a child. Sometimes the first child could not get it so another child would excitedly volunteer. By this point I would have a crowd of children around me. I would then help a second child play with the first child. Eventually the 2 could play together without me. The above picture is of 2 boys from the nomadic Bushmen tribe of Namibia playing cat's cradle together. The picture to the right is a Tanzanian boy playing with his sister while waiting for mom to finish making lunch.

In some villages I went to, the very youngest children were initially scared of me. One reason for this is that the children are told if they do not behave a white person (mazungu in Swahili) will come and take them away. I wonder where they got this crazy tale? So sometimes the children would slowly come towards me out of curiosity but then run away once they got close. Sometimes they would get an older sibling to come with them. I usually would pull out the string at this point and catch the attention of the older sibling. Once the older sibling gave the o.k., then we could all play together. The picture on the left shows me making Jacob's latter. When I first showed Jacob's latter, one child from this Malawian village yelled out fishnet, because to these children of a fishing village it looks like a fishnet.

The Malawian boy on the right was the fastest one to learn how to play cat's cradle. He really had fun with it. There was almost a sense of pride at learning it first, especially since some of the other children struggled with it. Unfortunately for him I later learned that he lost the string.

I always left at least 1 string behind so that the children could teach the other children in the village how to play. If you ever happen to pass through Africa and the children are playing cat's cradle, it is possible that someone in that village learned from this American mazungu.

Burma - Aung San Suu Kyi

In 1996 I had planned to go to Vietnam from Thailand but was told that foreigners were not allowed in for about 4 weeks while a special communist meeting was taking place in the country. No airline could sell me a plane ticket from Thailand for that time period and I could not obtain a visa. Therefore, I needed a new plan. Based on recommendations from a couple of new American friends I had made while trekking in Nepal, I decided to buy a plane ticket to Burma instead. This turned out to be a good call.

I flew into Rangoon. I was a bit nervous at the airport, since I was trying very hard not to buy the required $300 worth of Burmese currency at the airport. This was a government mandate so that the government could get U.S. dollars in their pocket and at an incredibly bad exchange rate - 10 to 1 vs 123 to 1 on the street. Based on the suggestions made by my new friends, I managed to sneak past security at the exchange counter. Of course, now I was outside needing transportation but without any local currency in hand. My taxi driver made a stop along the way so that I could exchange with one of his friends at a bad rate of 112 to 1.

Somewhere I read that the Aung San Suu Kyi, who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991, lives under house arrest at her home at Inya Lake in Rangoon. What I did not know is that she is permitted to give a speech each week at her house. Sometimes she speaks in Burmese and sometimes she speaks in English. Of course I felt compelled to go to hear her speak. I had no idea what to expect. Would I be allowed inside her house?

I remember walking to her house in a nice neighborhood. As I got closer there were military/police all along the road. I was surprised to see a crowd of about 200 people. Most of the people of Burma are very scared of the government. I knew not to ask government related questions to anyone without potentially putting that person in harm's way. I could not believe there were that many people willing to show their faces in the vacinity of the opposition leader.

It was a very hot day and I sat on the ground in the middle of the street. I must have waited an hour before she appeared at the gate. Again, I had no idea what to expect. I could not figure out how she was under house arrest but also permitted to speak. This was shocking to me. As you can see from the picture above, Aung San Suu Kyi stood on a platform inside of her gated home. Notice the large speakers on either side. In front of the gate were military/police. Unfortunately for me on this particular day Aung San Suu Kyi spoke in Burmese. To this day I still have no idea what she said. I think it was just important for me to observe the dynamics of the entire event.

Since you are only permitted into a very limited area of the country, it is quite possible to visit Burma and have no idea that there is any conflict with the government. You have to really watch and listen. For example, one time when I was taking a train up north we passed by a large, vast bridge. The passengers wanted me to quickly snap a picture of the bridge before anyone in authority saw me. It turns out that this particular bridge was very key to the government's strategic defenses. One man took me into his confidence and showed me a pro-democracy membership card that he had. Had he been caught with this card, there is a good likelihood that he would disappear. The men that are seen building and repairing the roads are not paid. I was told that the people who live in the villages must give up 1 family member for use by the government for whatever they see fit.

The night before I left for the airport a stranger came to my hotel room door and asked me to carry out a video tape that would show proof of the government's abuses. I wanted to help the people of Burma but I had to think long and hard about this request. My backpack would most likely be thoroughly searched at the airport. How would I respond? What would be the consequences? After much thought I decided against carrying the tape out. Had I worked for one of the oil companies or Pepsi, companies with a great deal of investment in Burma, I might have been able to navigate my way out of a bad situation. I honestly did not feel that the U.S. government would be able to get me out of a Burmese prison. If I recall correctly, the U.S. had an on-again-off-again embassy in Rangoon at the time. I did not feel that I would be able to buy my way out of trouble either. It turns out that my backpack was never even touched let alone opened.

Indonesia - A Village Wedding

One day in Sumatra, Indonesia a young man invited me and a handful of other travels to a wedding. Honestly I was not sure if he was telling the truth. There are always merchants or unscrupulous people who try to lure you away for money or sex or some scheme. To attend the wedding we would have to pay a couple of dollars. I asked the man, "Why do you need a couple of dollars from each of us to view the wedding?" He said the money goes towards gas in the van and a small wedding gift for the bride and groom. This seemed reasonable. A group of 7 of us piled into the van and away we went.

Before we arrived at the wedding the van made a stop. I asked the driver why he was stopping. He said he needed to go buy the gift for the bride and groom. About 10 minutes later he came out of the store with a package. I asked what was in the package. He said he bought some cloth for the bride to make some clothing with. I saw the material and thought this was a very nice gesture. This made me feel that this little adventure may actually be legit.

We pulled up to a big outdoor meeting place. I can not remember if the structure had a cement foundation or just dirt tightly packed. There were no walls but an extremely large wood and tin or aluminum roof. This must be where the village goes for meetings, celebrations, and other important gatherings.

There were hundreds of people of all ages there. They were all dressed in their finest clothes. I asked the driver where we were supposed to go. He said to follow him. Honestly, I felt like a wedding crasher. I wasn't sure this was such a good idea. We did not get kicked out so that was a good sign. Now I was especially glad that we stopped off to buy a wedding gift.

As I mentioned, the villagers were all dressed in their finest clothing. The funny thing is that many of the women had red teeth - bright red teeth. They like to chew on beetle nut, which turns their entire mouth red. The women had on very beautiful clothes and then they would smile with bright red teeth.

By the time we had arrived, the ceremony had already begun. The bride and groom stood in the middle of the wedding hall along with several VIPs. At one point an older man got up to speak and he began to cry. Most of the people in attendance were crying as well. I did not know what they were saying but my eyes became watery. I asked my guide what the older man was saying. He told me that the groom's father had passed away. The older man was a close friend of the groom's father. The older man was saying how the groom's father would have cherished this day and would have been so proud of his son. Now that I had a better understanding of what was being said, a tear dropped from my eye.

At the end of the ceremony it was time to give the bride and groom their gifts. The older women lined up with gifts in hand. This by far was my favorite part of the ceremony. In the picture to the left you will see some of the gifts. One woman is carrying a large weaved mat on her head. Another woman has a teapot in hand. If you look closely at the woman in the blue blouse on the far left you will notice a chicken in her hands. Several women are holding pots and one woman has a lantern. In this Indonesian village there is no Williams Sonoma gift registry. The village women are responsible for furnishing the items needed to start a home. I can only imagine that the men help build the hut. This was something very special to see.

Once the formal ceremony was over it was time to eat. The people formed groups of about 25. The women dished out rice from large containers and placed small portions in a bowl. After everyone had some rice, meat and vegetables were added to the dish. Everyone sat on the ground as they talked, ate, and were merry. The food, dishes, and other items needed for the wedding seemed to be brought by all the villagers. Instead of the bride and groom putting on a wedding for the villagers, the villagers put on a wedding for the bride and groom. This is what I found to be so very special about this wedding, and I was privileged to be a part of it.

Rwanda - Mountain Gorillas

It was a very tough 3 day journey by multiple buses, a shared taxi, and a motorbike from Arusha, Tanzania to Kigali, Rwanda. Buying tickets and getting to the buses were so challenging that I had to involve the police on 3 separate occasions. The level of harassment and deceit was unbelievable in Tanzania. I had gotten into such a heated argument with one of the ticket sellers in one Tanzanian town that I had to ask for a police escort to my hotel to pick up my backpack, return with me to the bus station, and wait with me until the bus left. In order to get to the border crossing from Tanzania into Rwanda I had to share a taxi with a family of 5. In the shared taxi the youngest child squeezed his mother's nipple and breast milk squirted out all over my arm. I just had to laugh since this scene was so outrageous. Since I arrived late in Kigali, the capital city of Rwanda, I jumped on the back of a motorbike "taxi" to maneuver through the unfamiliar streets of Kigali in the dark in pursuit of a hotel. Of course my driver wanted more money than we had agreed upon before I hopped on. I gave him the money we had agreed upon and abruptly walked away. This was definitely a rough journey to get into Rwanda. Let's just say I took the path less traveled.

My plan was to see the mountain gorillas in the Parc National des Volcans where Dian Fossey conducted much of her primate research. If the name sounds familiar it is because most Americans were introduced to her from the biographical movie "Gorillas in the Mist" staring Sigourney Weaver. In order to see the mountain gorillas you must first buy a mountain gorilla permit at the Rwanda Tourism Board in Kigali. Once the mountain gorilla family is sighted, you are only permitted to view them for a maximum of 1 hour. There are 4 mountain gorilla families to pick from, when buying your permit. There is a family of 4, 6, 12, or 24. The family of 24 is situated higher up on the mountain and in a more densely forested jungle. In other words, you are advised to be in good physical shape since you may have to hike up the mountain and through the jungle for several hours. I purposely selected the family of 24. I even wrote it on my $250 ticket. That's right. It cost $250 for a 1 hour viewing. Nowadays the price can be as high as $500. Although this price may not sound completely unreasonable, in terms of buying power in Africa it is astronomical, but I knew this before I arrived. I bought my ticket to see the family of 24 and the next day took a 2 hour minivan ride to Ruhengeri, which is closer to the park.

As required, I made my presence known at the Office of Tourism near Ruhengeri. My presence would be communicated to the head ranger and I should report to the main station the next morning by 8 a.m. to start the trek to the family of 24 mountain gorillas. The main station is several miles out by dirt road. I had no idea how I would get there, but I would figure something out. From the tourism office I walked a couple of miles back into town and grabbed a bite to eat. I went to a little local restaurant. I got the impression that I was one of the first foreigners to eat there. It is not that foreigners never come to this town, it is the fact that most eat in restaurants that probably cater to foreigners. I personally prefer the ambiance of the local eatery because I wanted to hang out with people from Rwanda. Let me just say that they treated me like a very special guest. Although my Swahili was very limited, we were still able to communicate. (Aside - I really should have paid more attention in French class in high school. It would have come in handy in Rwanda.) The restaurant owner made an extra effort to make sure that my plate was clean, the food was cooked well and was presented nicely. I could not have felt more honored. Small gestures like these make the rough travel worth it. After lunch I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out transportation to the main station for the next morning. After much time negotiating, one motorbike driver said he would do it. He would meet me the next morning at 7 a.m. in the same spot. Good. I had a plan.

The next day at 7 a.m. the motorbike guy is not in our meeting spot. There's no one around to take me to the main station. I start walking to the Office of Tourism, hoping I could find a ride somehow. Low and behold my motorbike guy finds me. He thought I was meeting him somewhere else. It is now closer to 7:30 a.m. I hop on the motorbike and away we go. The dirt road was curvy and full of rocks and pot holes. With one hand I held onto the motorbike and with the other hand I held down my chest. I thought one of my breasts was going to give me a black eye. I was getting concerned because it was getting late, and I was supposed to be at the main station by 8 a.m. At about 8:10 a.m. I jump off the motorbike, told my driver to wait, and I ran into the main station. The tourist group was still there. I hadn't missed my trek.

I told the ranger that I was there to see the mountain gorilla family of 24. He told me that no one is viewing the family of 24 today but he instead put me in the group of 6. I was furious. There is a big difference between 24 gorillas and 6 gorillas. I paid too much to let this one slide. I told him I would not go. I signed up for the family of 24 and that is the only group I will go see. He should tell me the next time he is going to trek to the family of 24 and I will come back then. I can come back tomorrow, in 1 week, in 2 weeks, or whenever. My schedule was open and I could work around his viewing dates for the 24 mountain gorillas. I think he was shocked. First because I refused to go with the smaller group and second because I arrived on a motorbike by myself. Because of the Rwanda genocide in 1994 most foreigners are too scared to go to Rwanda. Most stay in Uganda, take a very early minivan ride to Rwanda, view the gorillas, and ride back to Uganda on the same day. I was a woman alone in Rwanda (not coming from Uganda) and coming to the main station by hired motorbike. After accessing the situation he realized that I was going to stand my ground. He told me he would most likely be taking a group the next day. I could join that group. As I mentioned, my Swahili was very limited. I asked the ranger to explain the situation to my motorbike driver. My motorbike driver should meet me in the same place, bring me back the next morning and for the same price. Done. I told the ranger I would definitely be back the next morning to view the family of 24 mountain gorillas.

I took the motorbike ride back into town. Just to make sure that indeed I would be viewing the mountain gorillas the next day, I took the 2 hour minivan ride back to Kigali. I complained at the main Office of Tourism, where a day earlier I had given my $250. The woman behind the desk called the ranger's main station and did in fact confirm that I absolutely would be able to view the family of 24 mountain gorillas the next day. I took the 2 hour minivan ride back to the town closest to the park.

The next morning I walked to the Office of Tourism near Ruhangeri. I lucked out this time because the tour group was meeting there in a minivan and had room for me to take the ride up to the ranger's main station. I thanked my motorbike driver and got in the minivan. The tour group turned out to be a group of young, Canadian(?) missionaries working in Uganda. They were taking a day trip into Rwanda to see the mountain gorillas. We began the trek by 9 a.m. There were 8 of us + 1 tour guide and 2 armed guards. One guard was at the front of the single file line and one guard was at the back of the single file line. They were there to protect us from a gorilla gone mad and also from the poachers that may be in the jungle. It took us much longer to get up the mountain than expected, since one of the missionaries was is very bad physical shape. She was overweight and huffing and puffing up the mountain. We had to stop frequently for her to catch her breath. I was very annoyed at this, since the brochure clearly stated that this trek was a tough one and only those in good physical shape should select this trek. The other three treks were much less strenuous. Of course these were missionaries and they were all very sweet. I could not bring myself to say anything negative. Instead I said, "I am glad we are stopping. This gives us a chance to really enjoy the scenery." In truth it was absolutely gorgeous on the mountain, but I was a little too p.o.ed to truly enjoy it.

At one point our guide received radio contact that the trackers found the gorilla family. We were directed to where the gorillas were roaming on this particular day. Before we actually got to the gorillas, the rules of behavior were reviewed. We were to stay in a single file line. We were not to talk or only talk in a whisper. We were to stay at least 20 feet away from the gorillas. It is O.K. if the gorilla comes closer but we are not to go closer. Part of this is for our safety and part of this is so that we do not get the gorillas sick. If a gorilla comes very close, do not look at it in the eyes. You should act timid and let the gorilla be in control. We may take pictures and use video cameras but no flash photography. I knew this in advance so I purchased higher speed film. In the end this choice did not work out so well and most of my pictures turned out a little bit blurry.

After all of the above difficulties, let me just say that seeing the mountain gorillas for an hour was AWESOME, AMAZING, INCREDIBLE!!!! I saw a mother with a baby. I saw two young brothers play-fighting. I saw an overweight female. I saw a couple of gorillas in the trees. I saw 2 male silverbacks. One of the silverbacks charged us and we coyly moved back. He was so close I could have touched him. My heart was beating fast. We heard a couple of loud chest pounds from the silverback to tell us whose territory it was and who was in charge. Again, AWESOME, AMAZING, INCREDIBLE!!!!!

Picture: Abigail with mountain gorilla over her right shoulder.

Would I do it again? You betcha! In a heartbeat.

Let the Journey Begin

Over the past 2 decades I have traveled to roughly 30 countries - mostly in Africa and Asia. Since I do not talk much about my travels, many of the crazy adventures, dangerous situations I found myself in, and funny stories have begun to vanish from my memory. However, on occasion something will trigger a random memory. As quickly as that memory pops into my head, it shortly thereafter sneaks back to some deep part of my brain. I thought a blog might be a good way to capture some of my travel adventures over the years before they disappear for good.

Honestly I am debating between a blog, a podcast, a vodcast, or some other storytelling medium. I thought I would try a blog out first and see how well this works. My concern is that some of the emotion from my voice, facial expressions, and hand gestures will be missed in a written format of a blog.

Well here goes...

If anyone happens to stumble upon my blog, I hope you enjoy my worldly adventures.