Zambia - Nighttime Visitor

At one of the backpacker places that I stayed at in Zambia, there was a note on the wall. It said that a woman in a village is willing to have guests overnight at her homestead for a small fee. It required a 2 hour minivan bus ride and about a mile walk from the bus drop off point. I decided to grab my bag and give it a try.

My daytime visit with this woman and her daughter turned out to be fantastic. I would have to use a different word to describe the nighttime.

After dinner I went to the hut that was reserved just for me. It is the hut that you see in the picture above. The walls were made of mud and the roof was thatched. Inside there was a bed and a small nightstand. That was all the hut could fit. There was no electricity inside, but that was to be expected. I usually had a candle in my bag for just this type of situation. All in all I felt very comfortable in this hut. I had no problem falling asleep.

During the night I felt something hit my chest. It wasn't hard but it was hard enough to wake me up. I was about to go back to sleep when I came to my senses. Of course I had to find out what it was. Maybe someone was in my hut? There was definitely an uninvited nighttime visitor in my hut. I heard something moving around. It did not sound like a person. At that point I thought it might be a rooster. Maybe a rooster got into my hut and was jumping around. If this were the case, I'd have to keep my wits about me. I frantically searched for my flashlight. The longer I sat in the dark, the more scared I became of what I might find. I turned on the light and saw a huge guinea pig sized rat run up the wall of the hut and into the thatched roof above me. The rat must have initially either jumped or fallen from the roof. It hit my chest. I moved and the rat ran off me.

Of course now I could not sleep. I was hoping it was 6 a.m. and time to get up. I took a look at my watch. It read 2:30 a.m. Darn it! Now what was I going to do? It was too late in the night for me to sit outside and too early to expect my host to be up. The one thing I knew for sure was that I did not want the rat to touch me. When I was in Lesothos, a man showed me his marked up hand. He told me that a rat bit him while he was sleeping. I definitely knew this was a possibility. I decided to slide all the way down into my sleeping bag and completely close the top where my head normally was. My sleeping bag was a very good quality North Face down bag. In other words, it's great for the mountains but can be quite hot otherwise. I started to sweat. I also was not getting enough air. My face was buried inside the bag. I did not know how I was going to make it until morning. I lay there and sweated for an hour. Occasionally I had to let a small amount of cool air in. Eventually I fell asleep.

I woke at 6:30 a.m. I had survived the night. I do not think I could do another night like that one.

Jordan - Petra, Rainbow Sand

After visiting Egypt I decided to head to Jordan to see Petra. I went from the Sinai to Eilat and then crossed the border into Jordan in May 2003. Given that the U.S. had recently started bombing Iraq, tensions were high in the Middle East. I do not recall anyone else crossing the border from Israel to Jordan. It was very quiet, as I am sure you can imagine.

Once I got across the border, I exchanged money and hopped on the bus to Petra. The bus ride was about 2 hours. As we approached Petra all I could see out the window of the bus were mountains of stone. There did not seem to be anything of interest there.

I got off the bus and went looking for a hotel for the night. I settled in. I remember having a conversation with the hotel owner. He mentioned that business was slow. He also complained that the Israelis did not help because they always took an early bus in, viewed Petra, and crossed the border back into Israel on the same day. I just listened. I did not want to ruffle any feathers.

First thing in the morning I headed right to the entrance to begin my viewing of Petra, the lost city of stone. I felt like an ant as I walked the first half mile through the narrow gorge, which has walls approximately 200 feet high. Because of the Iraq war the place was pretty deserted. It was very peaceful. I was fortunate to have this place mostly to myself. At most I saw 50 people there the entire day. Imagine going to your local zoo and only running into 50 people all day. Usually there are well over a thousand people that come through there on any given day.

What looked like big mountains of stone from the bus window was completely different from the other side. Built into the stone was one building after the next building. Based on my view from the bus, I can completely understand how this city could have been lost.

Not only is the existence of the buildings surprising, but the multicolor stones are a sight to be seen. As you get closer you can see the various colors in the stone. It goes from beige to pink to purple and various colors in between. This was not just one building but all the buildings there were made up of multicolor sandstone.

While I was walking up the many steps around the city, I came across a little boy and his donkey. The boy was trying to get his donkey to walk up the steps. The donkey would not move. The boy was pulling with all of his weight. At one point the boy started crying.

Probably the most famous building in Petra is the treasury. It became well known after appearing in one of the Indiana Jones movies. Since I have never seen an Indiana Jones movie, I did not know this until I visited and was told that the treasury was especially famous. In order to take the picture to the right, I had to hike up to the top of the gorge. I started to get nervous because I wasn't sure I could find my way down. I had been walking on top for a while and I got turned around. Remember, the city was basically deserted. Fortunately a small group of American men appeared. They were smart enough to go up top with a guide. I attached myself to their group and we climbed down together.

Since the amazing colored sandstone is what awed me about Petra, I bought a bottle full of colored sandstone before I left. I actually watched the man make bottles similar to the one I bought (pictured on the left). This man was very talented. I boxed my bottle of sand up and shipped it from Israel. It went via boat to the United States. About 4 months later my package arrived at my mother's home. When I returned to the United States I was pleasantly surprised to find that the sand did not get mixed up during its long journey across the ocean.

Tanzania - Daily Life

About an hour and a half bus ride southwest of Arusha, Tanzania there is a man in Babati, Tanzania who will setup special village tours. When I got to his office and reviewed the tour options, I told him that I did not like any of the tours because they were all fake. In other words, the locals would get dressed up in costumes and perform dances and other silly activities just for me. I told him that I just wanted to hang out in a village and see what the locals typically do each day. He said he could arrange that for me and that is exactly what I got during my 3 day, 2 night visit.

I stayed with a woman who had 2 children. There was no stove for cooking inside their house. Each meal was cooked just outside the front door of their house using firewood. My host showed me how to cook a couple of things. One of the more interesting meals was a banana soup. In Africa there are at least a dozen varieties of bananas. Some are small and sweet and others are large and starchy. My host used one of the large plantain like bananas. To my surprise the soup/stew was not sweet banana flavor but more like a starchy potato taste. I enjoyed it very much.

As I was guided around the large village, I saw and sometimes participated in the various jobs that people did. At one family's home the children were squeezing all the tomatoes and gathering the seeds to later plant. While the children took care of the tomatoes, the parents were crushing beans with a stick. Instead of picking apart the beans from the pods, the entire bean stock was left out in the sun to dry out. When you beat the dry stocks with a stick, the beans separate from the pod.

I spent a couple of hours harvesting corn as well as sugar cane. Gathering sugar cane seemed to be a man's work. They used a 2 foot long knife to chop down the 10 foot tall stocks of sugar cane. All through Africa I saw people biting on the sugar cane stock. This did not appeal to me.

Although I am not a coffee drinker, I was definitely interested in the coffee bean processing that the locals were doing. I had no idea that coffee beans are actually encased in a bright cherry shell. In the village I stayed at they had a small machine that would remove the outer cherry skin. The bean inside is in fact a whitish color. In the States we see the bean after it has been roasted and becomes a dark brown.

Another job I saw all too frequently in the villages throughout Africa was children raising children. Either the parents were busy working or the parents passed away from AIDS or other causes. Seeing a 7 or 8 year old with his little brother or sister strapped to his back was not an uncommon sight.

On Sunday I went to church. The church service was held in the classroom. Everyone was dressed in his/her finest clothes. It turned out that my guide was the acting preacher for the day, since the regular preacher was out of town. I was formally introduced to the congregation, and I received a warm welcome. My guide gave the sermon and many songs were sung. The musical instruments were made out of odd parts including the metal caps of Coke bottles.

After church we went to the monthly market. We got there by bicycle. At first my guide had me pedaling the 1 bicycle to the market and he sat on back of the bicycle on the rack. This was very typical. In this part of Africa the women did the pedaling and the men hung on in back. My guide seemed disappointed that I was not very good at hauling my weight plus his over a sandy dirt road. Eventually after about a mile we switched places. He pedaled and I sat on the rack on back. I got a lot of funny looks as we rode by the people walking to the monthly market.

This market was huge. You could buy material to make clothing as well as buy the standard school uniform for kids. You could buy live animals. One lamb was screaming. It was tied into a basket that was secured to the back of a bicycle rack. It must have known its fate. You could also buy dead animals. No part was off limits. Innards were everywhere. If you were thirsty, you could buy the local homemade brew from several of the women who were scooping cups full from large buckets.

By far my favorite item being sold were sandals. What was so special about the sandals? The soles were 100% rubber made from used tires. You could pick your tread. You got all weather traction for year round use.

My 3 days and 2 nights spent near Babati were quite special. The people near Babati were kind enough to permit me to take a little peak at some of the jobs they do and the activities they partake in.

Swaziland - School Visit

I had arranged to visit an elementary school in Swaziland. When I arrived it was lunch time. The children were all lined up to receive their food. First the youngest children lined up with a bowl in hand. Next came the older children. The large burlap sacks of food were stamped in big letters --> UNICEF.

After the children received their food, I was offered the same food to try. The food looked like a big blob of white stuff. All eyes were on me. The children wanted to know if I liked it. I remember silently telling myself, "No matter how bad it tastes, I will keep a smile on my face." The food wasn't bad at all. It was a big dish of carbohydrates. It seemed to include pasta, white beans, and a little peanut butter for flavor. I along with all the kids ate directly out of the bowl with our hands.

After lunch I greeted the children in their classrooms. I started with the younger grades. Each student stood up and stated his or her age. Not everyone was the same age. I heard "I'm 7. I'm 7. I'm 10. I'm 7. I'm 7. I'm 8. I'm 9. I'm 7." In other words, I think the children were placed in the classes based on ability and not necessarily age. There were a few tall, older children in the classroom with the younger children.

In one of the younger classrooms I was asked to teach a math lesson for about 25 minutes. I was not prepared for this and I had no idea what the students were learning. I went around the room and asked each student how long it takes them to walk to school. Some of the answers were shocking. It was very common for the students to say 45 minutes, 60 minutes, or even 90 minutes. Some of these children walked 4 or 5 miles to school each day. We then added all the times up and divided by 60. It turned out to be something like 20 hours in total.

When I got to the oldest grade, I stood in the front of the room and took questions. The first question I got in June 2003 was, "Why did America go to war with Iraq?" I did not know how to answer this. As a representative of the United States, do I give the American political line or do I give my personal opinion? I gave both. Other questions I received were, "Why are there 50 stars on the American flag? Who is the President? Is America a Republic or a Kingdom? Is there a parliament? Are the jobs the same as the jobs in Swaziland?"

About 3 months later my mother joined me for 3 weeks of travel in Africa, and I returned to this school with her. This time we were asked to help what seemed like the 5th grade class with their reading. As soon as their teacher left the room, the students wanted to read different material. My group turned to pages in their book on safe sex and AIDS. I was both surprised and happy to see this in their textbook. Their English textbook was made up of short English readings on good health, hygiene, and citizenship.

When my mother and I went to the oldest students we took questions at the front of the room. The first question was, "How old are you?" I told them my age and then my mother told them hers, which at the time was 65 years old. Many of the children gasped. They could not believe her age. The average life expectancy in Swaziland for females is around 39 years old. Not only was she 65 but she looked to be in excellent shape.

After the age question we were asked, "Who was America named after?" We had no idea and had to ask the students if they knew? Of course they did. It was Amerigo Vespucci. It turns out they were preparing for their junior high entrance exam.

My mother and I visited one other school that day. We were asked to sing our national anthem. This was not pretty. Neither my mother nor I have a good singing voice. We were so off key. It was very embarrassing. Our voices did not represent the United States well. The nice part of this was that the children then sang their national anthem to us.

Unfortunately at the second school the teacher was very depressing. In front of the students she said that they were poor. Even though they would take their junior high school entrance exam and pass, most could not afford to continue with school. In other words, this teacher quashed their dreams right in front of them. This is definitely not the way to handle a request for money.

Before we left Swaziland my mother left a large suitcase worth of children's clothing to help the children stay warm during their long walks to school.

Thailand - Bo Derek Hair

After a few months of challenging travel I usually went on a 2 or 3 day beach retreat. I got bored at the beach so easily that usually after 3 days I was ready to get going again. I always felt like I was wasting time there. Therefore, even at the beach I had to try something new.

When in Thailand I tried 2 new things on the beach on Ko Pha Ngan. The first was an hour long massage. I was really hoping that I would not like it so that I would not crave a massage when I got back to the States. Well, I was in luck. I absolutely hated the massage. It was so painful. Every time she went to touch me, I tensed up in anticipation of the pain. Maybe I got the wrong type of massage, but it definitely was not for me.

The second thing new that I tried was a new do. I call it my Bo Derek look. You know, from the movie 10. I got cornrows. I sat on the beach and had 2 women braid my hair. It took them 1 1/2 hours and it cost me $4.

I loved the cornrows. The 2 women did a fantastic job. They gave me nice straight lines and tiny braids to the very end. The colorful beads were a nice touch too. I was loving my new do.

With my new hairdo I went about my daily business as usual. I got up in the morning, went for a swim, had breakfast, went back to the beach, read a book, went for another swim, went for a walk, ate lunch, watched a pirated movie, took a cold shower during the hottest afternoon hour, headed back to the beach, and got one more swim in before dinner. Of course it was sunny and beautiful. I could not complain.

Here are a couple of lessons I learned about cornrows. First of all I burned my scalp very badly. Remember how I liked the nice clean lines. Usually my hair covered my entire scalp and protected it from the sun. I had no idea that I needed to protect my newly exposed skin on top of my head. My scalp ended up peeling gross dead skin all over the place. It was not pretty.

Since my hair is naturally curly, it really wanted to curl. For me this came in the form of frizz. As you can see from the picture on the left, the top of my head became a big frizz ball. Even though I was told that I could keep the braids in for a month, after 2 1/2 weeks I absolutely had to take out the braids. This is when I learned my third lesson.

My braids were so tiny at the ends and there were so many braids in my hair, that I needed help taking my frizzy braids out. Fortunately for me I was traveling with a woman named Melanie at the time in Sumatra, Indonesia. I do not remember how long it took the two of us to get all the beads and braids out. What I do remember is the fact that I lost close to 1/3 of my hair or it at least appeared that way to me. Usually a little hair falls out every day. With the braids the hair can not fall out. When you do get around to taking the braids out, all the dead hair can finally come off. It was an unbelievable amount. So much hair came out that at the time I said I would never do cornrows again.

Even on the beach I learned a few lessons. One, I do not like rough massages. Two, if you get a Bo Derek do, then you need to have a sun protection plan for your scalp. Also, do not be surprised by the large quantity of hair that falls out after weeks in braids.

Burma - Village Overnight

Although most of my travel is done solo, from time to time I hook up with other travelers. Sometimes we travel together for a few hours, a few days, or a few weeks. It all depends on whether the person is interested in seeing and doing the same things that I am interested in seeing and doing. In the case of Burma I met Yossi my third day in Burma and we traveled together for about 2 1/2 weeks. One of my favorite experiences in Burma was a village overnight.

Yossi and I along with 3 or 4 other travelers took an hour or two boat ride to a village. The boat was actually filled with locals bringing goods back from market. Earlier in the day they had brought goods to sell and now they were returning to their villages.

The village we stayed at was absolutely gorgeous. The homes were built on wooden stilts. The walls were made up of weaved patterns. The roofs were either thatch or some form of metal such as tin or aluminum. In all the homes looked sturdy and well maintained.

Our small group met our host family. We had some fresh fruit and a drink together. Our guide translated some for us. It was a very nice gathering. About an hour later the 3 or 4 other travelers and our guide returned to the boat. Yossi and I stayed behind. Arrangements had been made for use to sleep over 1 night with our host family. Yossi and I were the only foreigners in the entire village now.

Yossi and I went exploring. We walked around the village, which had many different fruits and vegetables growing. This must be what they take to market to trade each day. Again, this village was absolutely gorgeous and pristine. There were children outside playing everywhere. We ran into a couple of cute little girls. We saw a boy carrying water back to his family's home. We joined a group of children who were playing jump rope. It was really wonderful.

By the time we returned to our host family's home, it was time to wash up before dinner. I chose to bathe in the river. Yossi chose to clean up near the well. I am really glad we picked two different options, because half the village followed Yossi and the other half followed me. Had we both gone to the river, 100% of the village would have been staring at me while I was bathing.

Dinner was a wonderful meal of rice, spinach, and lentils among other things. Our host family really made us feel welcome. If I recall correctly, there was a mother, father, and 3 girls. We were limited in our communication due to a language barrier. I struggled with even 1 word of Burmese, since the English alphabet used to represent Burmese words in my guide book did not match the true sounds. In other words, my guide book would show me the letter 's' but it would be pronounced like the letter 't'. I did not understand the sound system and had a very difficult time picking up the local language.

After dinner we were taken to a village meeting area. It seemed like a small tea shop. Many from the village met us there. Again, there was a language barrier but we found a few things that we could communicate. For example, there was a world map on the wall. Yossi and I each pointed out our respective countries. We enjoyed tea together and just enjoyed each other's company.

We returned to our host's home. It was time to go to sleep. Since our host knew that Yossi and I were not a couple, they gave us separate bedding. They gave me the bed and Yossi got the floor. Yossi did not say a word, but my guess was that he was not all that happy about that. Truthfully it really did not make a difference, since the bed was just a wood board set off the ground.

One concern I had was the bathroom arrangement. The toilet was actually an outhouse a significant distance from the house. If I had to go at night, I would have to make my way down the steps of the house and along a curvy path in the dark. Maybe I would find the outhouse but surely I would get lost on my way back. Without me even saying anything my host brought me a metal pot. She explained that I should use this in the night and it would get dumped in the morning. That night I had a difficult time falling asleep. Sure enough I heard someone in the next room urinating into his metal pot. For just a brief moment I chuckled to myself.

The next day our host made use a nice breakfast. I felt the finest and best of everything was put out for us. We were really treated to feel special. I was truly overwhelmed by their hospitality.

Shortly after breakfast our host mother took us back to the river to wait for the return boat. No one from the village besides our host mother was around. This was a perfect time for Yossi and I to offer her some money for all the food and trouble she went through to host us. Although we insisted, she absolutely would not accept even a penny.

The guide who arranged this overnight did not take any money from us either. Time and time again we found the people of Burma to be incredibly hospitable, while asking nothing of us in return. If anything, I was asked to share my experiences inside their country with the rest of the world.

India - Varanasi, the Ganges

I had both read and heard that a trip to northern India must include Varanasi. This is one of the locations of River Ganga, which is considered by Hindu followers to be holy water. India is so crowded with people, cars, and animals, that I was looking forward to a serene as well as pristine place. It turned out to be nothing like I envisioned. Honestly you have to see it to believe it.

After finding a hotel in Varanasi, I put my backpack down and headed to the Ganges. To get to the holy river I had to go through narrow, windy, stone alleyways filled with people, small carts, and water buffalos. Once at the river I found more of the same hectic surroundings.

Instead of finding unadulterated water in a peaceful surrounding, there were people and animals everywhere doing all kinds of activities in and outside of the water. From my point of view the water could not have been more polluted. People were bathing and washing dirty clothes in the same location. Oh yeah, they were also washing their water buffalos there as well.

As a matter of fact, I was almost run over by a pair of water buffalos. I was sitting on the steps just watching the scene around me, when 2 water buffalos in the middle of a sexual act came running/hopping forward at me. I had to very quickly jump up from my seat and get out of their way. I was lucky I was not trampled by 2 pleasure seeking buffalos.

Not only are people, clothing, and animals all washed in the same location, but people are also cremated next to the water. Many people come to Varanasi to die and then are cremated at the river. After the cremation a person's ashes and rib cage are tossed into the river. Yes, this is the same location in which you will find people brushing their teeth. Shocking!

I thought it would be nice to take an early morning boat ride on the Ganges. I arranged for a sunrise boat trip. It was a small boat that fit about a handful of people. This happened to be a quiet time. For the most part the only people at the river were meditating.

I knew at this point not to touch the water. Although the people of India may be used to this water, my body certainly was not. My decision to not drink or even touch this water was reconfirmed as a wise decision during my boat ride. I thought I saw a dead pig float by. After a closer look the pinkish object was in fact a dead baby. I was told that babies are not to be cremated but rather should be placed in the holy water whole.

My definition of holy water and how it is handled is completely different from how holy water is treated in India. I consider holy water to be pristine or untouched, especially by the masses. In India holy water is used to purify and one should bathe or completely immerse oneself in it to wash away any sins. This is not so different from purification rituals in many religions around the world. The difference for me was the washing of everyone and everything en masse.

This is definitely a sight to be seen. Many people do find inspiration and peace in Varanasi.