Clouds and other things

The clouds are different here. It's as though God is an impressionist painter using the sky as a canvas. Huge brush strokes cross the sky ending in swirls of grey and white. Layer upon layer of cloud mix and mingle creating a beautiful landscape for the eye to traverse. I've never seen so many different types of clouds at once, each one separate but part of the whole. A meteorologist would have a field day here trying to interpret the clouds as they merge and split apart, every moment just a little different.

Botswana is flat. The ground is flat, the trees are flat. It's as if everything is in two dimensions except the clouds. We are in the Kalahari desert. We drive for hours and hours down the straight road with nothing to see but scrub and salt pan interrupted by the occasional elephant. The people here live off of the land and own some goats or cows that wander freely amongst the scrub searching for whatever food there might be. Houses are rare, and when there is one, it is small, usually round and constructed using cement made from crushed termite mounds. The roof is made of small sticks woven together with grasses. Perhaps there is a shed made out of corrugated iron but more likely than not there is just the mud huts. The yard is surrounded by a fence made of dead shrubs piled on top of each other to create a fence of sorts saying this is my land. Without the fence, the house would disappear into the vastness. Street numbers and mailboxes don't exist here. Instead your house is marked with a stick and a hubcap, or piece of grill or exploded tire- anything that will differentiate your round hut from the next along the miles of unbroken highway.

South Africa is different. Things are greener and lusher as you travel through the hills and mountains. There are signs of prosperity- agriculture, reforestation, houses. You can smell the difference in the air and you know, life is different here. The contrast is extreme. A couple of hours drive and you're in an entirely different world. You do not see people walking along the edge of the highway. There are white people in the mall and stores look familiar like Toys R Us. The people of Botswana are tough, they have to be to survive in the dry, harshness of the land. South Africa is softer, sweeter. Life is good here.

I am lucky to be able to see and experience these differences. I hope that I never forget to keep looking, to keep seeing, to continue to explore the world I live in. There is so much more out there. So much more to experience. Travelling, even just for a few weeks, reminds me of how luck I am and how grateful I am for everything I have in my life. I sit and watch the clouds as they roll by, the rain slowly hitting the ground in great big drops and life is good. Life is very good.

More about Whale sharks

When I told people that I was coming to Mozambique to swim with whale sharks, most people reacted with some hesitation asking if I was crazy. Yes, whale sharks are the largest known sharks in the world, but they are also completely harmless to humans.

A confusing name, the whale shark is in fact a shark. It is the world's largest fish and grows to lengths of up to 20m. It has the characteristics of a shark in that it has a vertical tail fin that moves with a side-to-side action; it does not give birth to live young and instead houses hundreds of eggs inside the female until the young are about a foot and half long and can survive on their own; and they are cold blooded. However, in terms of their habits and size they are more similar to a whale. They are filter feeders which means that as they swim, they open their mouths to allow water to pass through their gills at which point they filter out all the zoo plankton. Yes, the largest fish in the world eats the smallest thing in the ocean. This means that the whale shark has to go where the zoo plankton is plentiful because it requires tons of zoo plankton a day to maintain its body mass. They are harmless creatures whose only self defence is its unbelievable size and incredibly thick skin on it's back. Their only predators are other large sharks and humans. Once a whale shark is fully grown, it is too big and it's skin too thick for any other shark to successfully eat it . What normally happens is that the great white comes up to take a bite and gets stuck on the whale shark as its teeth cannot fully penetrate the skin. The great white then needs to shake himself off the whale shark and both swim away. Boats, on the other hand, are a very different story. As the sharks generally feed near the surface and can be inquisitive creatures, it makes them highly susceptible to boat strikes. The propellers dig into the skin or fins and can cause great damage leaving injuries and scars.

As whale sharks only have a thin row of very small teeth, if a person were to happen to get caught in a whale sharks mouth, he would very kindly spit you out again as he has no interest in having you inside him. And, if while you are swimming with a whale shark, he gets aggravated by your presence, he banks away from you showing his back and dives down and swims away. If a whale sharks decides to swim, he may look like he's not going that fast, but it's impossible to keep up for very long.

Very little is known about these magnificent creatures. It has only been within the last 15-20 years that people have actively started to research their behaviours. One of the biggest research areas happens to be in Tofo, Mozambique. Here, at the Megafauna Marine Institute, they have been studying the whale shark trying to figure out what they do and where they go. On the skin of the shark, there is a series of spots and stripes which are unique to each individual. By photographing the sharks as they pass through Tofo, each can be identified and tracked as it moves around the world. What they've discovered is that the population around Tofo is mostly adolescent males. It's like the skateboard park, and fast food joint for whale sharks. They cruise through the area at about 5-10m long and then move somewhere else, where that might be, the researchers have no idea. They also have no idea where the females and babies spend time, nor do they know where mating or birthing takes place. In all the populations studied around the world, the females, babies and large males are not present which makes them wonder if maybe they live in the middle ocean during those stages of life. No one is really quite sure.

So, outside of simple curiosity and wanting to know more about the world we live in, why is it important to study whale sharks. Well, there is a growing problem of shark exploitation in the world, and whale sharks are not immune to it. With the increase of middle class China, the demand for shark fin soup is growing. Being able to serve shark fin soup to guests is a sign of prosperity in Chinese culture and there's a lot of prosperity happening in that country right now. So, why is shark fin soup so important? It's not really. Once upon a time there was a king who raved about how good shark fin soup was and well, if the king likes it, it must be good. It's really that simple. As a result, we are decimating our shark populations to fill the demand. Whale sharks being the biggest, their fins are worth the most money. They are used as displays in restaurant windows to entice people to enter. The rest of the shark is pretty much wasted as, on land, it weighs tons and is difficult to manage. As I write this, there are whale shark fisheries cropping up in China whose sole purpose is to catch whale sharks. This is incredibly dangerous to the whale shark population as they are long lived species. It takes a whale shark up to 30 years to reach sexual maturity and the majority of sharks being caught are teenagers. We are effectively destroying the reproducing population. If we are not careful, the whale shark might go the way of the humpback which had to struggle it's way back into existence.

The researchers in Tofo are doing their part to learn more about these animals and are working hard to establish the coast of Mozambique as a whale shark protected area. The problem is that Mozambique can only afford one coast guard boat. Even if they establish a marine park, there's very little hope that they'll be able to effectively patrol the area.

I feel extremely blessed that I had the opportunity to swim with these beautiful creatures and only hope that future generations will have the same opportunity.

Heat Stroke

I feel dizzy was all she said. Before that, there were no signs. 20 minutes later she was semi-conscious and on her way to the hospital. It's amazing how quickly our bodies can shut down.

Friday, my last full day in Tofo. We'd booked a double dive trying to make the most of the day. The volunteer coordinator wasn't so happy that we'd taken things into our own hands as were supposed to all be going out on the same ocean safari as the official end to our research trips, but we didn't care. By this point, we knew we enjoyed diving a lot more than just driving around in the boat hoping to see something and I was on the hunt to see a Manta Ray, something which had eluded me all month.

It was a beautiful day- sunny and warm. The rest of the week had been rainy and overcast so, it was nice to see the sun again. The boat launch went well. You never know just how it's going to go. Sometimes the boat gets pushed back onto shore by waves, sometimes the boat is too far in the water for me to jump up, but this day everything went smoothly.

On the trip were two German men whose names I didn't bother to learn, an Isreali guy who was just completing his open water, so, nice enough but couldn't dive worth shit, Nicole, Dymphna, myself and the crew- Nick the owner, Lobo a dive master and Neo the skipper. A nice little group heading out for a couple of dives with a little ocean safari in between to look for whale sharks. The first site we went to was Outback which is so named because it's one of the farthest sites away. It takes about 35-45 minutes to get there by boat during which time you're wearing your wetsuit. By wearing a wetsuit you basically turn your body into the inside of a tire. You encase yourself in 5mm of black rubber, which is fine if you're in the water, but sitting in the boat, in the sun, it's stiffling to say the least. We complained about being hot and took turns dumping water down each other's suits and even got to swim with a whale shark on the way to the site- a nice treat.

Outback had seen a lot of action in the last week. A lot of mantas had been in the area as well as small eyed stingrays and other oceanic wonders. However, the current had also been a little crazy lately so we weren't sure what we were going to get. It turned out that that day there was a lovely current, moving in the right direction so we were able to glide gently around the reef and enjoy the view. It was a beautiful dive, unfortunately, no mantas.

Back on the surface, the sun was still shining as we enjoyed our incredible sandwiches. It's amazing how after having a limited diet for a few weeks, something as simple as a turkey sandwich can taste gourmet. Sandwiches, coco biscuits and bananas finished it was off on the hunt for a whale shark. It took us a while, during which time we were entertained by the the seasickness of one of the German guys. I know it's not nice to laugh at someone else's pain, but this man did nothing by complain, so watching him so obviously suffering just made us laugh. We eventually found one, had a lovely swim and it was off to site two.

Our second dive was at a site called Giant's Castle. Another popular site with a reputation for whale sharks. This dive did not go quite as smoothly. There was a fairly strong current and it was difficult to get down to the reef. It was especially difficult for me because I was having a hard time getting my ears to equalize so, poor Lobo had me hanging off the buoy line for a significant amount of time, which is definitely not easy. I'm not sure if my ears eventually equalized or if I just blew an ear drum, but we might explore that one a little later. I did make it down to the bottom though and we let the current direct the dive every now and then holding on to the reef so that you could actually see something. I like diving with a current because in a strange way, it makes you slow down because it forces you to look closer at the reef. You have time to sit and look at the small things that are directly in front of you. Because you need to hold on, you can focus on that one place and see all the little shrimp, nudibrank, coral, lobsters and a million other things that you would otherwise miss. On this particular dive, I came across a lovely little pinnacle covered in shrimp, a moray eel and a lobster. Awesome.

And that was it. My diving in Tofo was over. We headed home, had an uneventful landing (which is good because sometimes they can be really rough) and headed up the beach to the dive centre to clean up our stuff and go home for a nap. About halfway up the hill, Dymphna stopped. This is not Dymphna. She is tough; she is strong; and she is proud. She would never admit to being tired or not being able to keep up unless something were very wrong. I was able to get her to sit down on the stairs for a few minutes. She was dizzy and weak and feeling nauseous. Being a great sufferer of heat related illnesses, I recognized the symptoms right away. After a few minutes, she was able to get up and made it to the top of the stairs where there is a big umbrella and some chairs. We got her some water and rehydration salts but she seemed to be getting more and more tired. Still not ready to admit that anything was truly wrong, the panic set in when her right arm went numb. It was at this point that we all realized this was far worse than we had thought. Nicole ducked into the dive office to ask for oxygen while I worked at keeping Dymphna calm. She still had her wetsuit halfway on which meant that from the waist down she was still heating up. Nick grabbed ice which Nicole held to the back of her neck, Steve called over the 'doctor', I started pouring water over her legs and someone else started fanning her with a clip board. She sat slumped, her right arm dangling and her energy just fading away. We tried a couple of time to get her to walk to the dive centre where there was a couch for her to lie down on out of the sun, but she couldn't walk. Nick drove the pickup over so that she could just climb into it, but when we got her to stand, she couldn't move her feet. At this point, she started to slip in and out of consciousness. There would be moments where she could respond to questions, and she would yell at the doctor as he yanked on her fingers but then she would slump back down and not respond to anything. It was time to get her into the shade and get the wetsuit off. The great thing about a dive centre is there are always lots of strong men around. Nick, Steve and a couple of other guys grabbed various limbs and dragged her onto the truck. It wasn't pretty, but it worked. She was driven into the shade, we got her wetsuit off, and put a fan on her. She was breathing forced oxygen and we had her packed in ice to bring down her core body temperature.

Now, I have to mention just how interesting it was to watch the two owners of the dive shop deal with the situation. Steve was very nonchalant and in between moments of giving orders how to treat Dymphna, he was schmoozing clients and helping them make plans for their trip. Nick, on the other hand was like a worried father, running around from place to place getting everything we needed. He got ice, he got a yoga mat to put in the back of the truck, he got towels to wrap the ice in, he got a fan, he filled water bottles...both were amazing and very in control.

Lying in the shade, she started to come round. The doctor hovering over her, taking every opportunity to wipe the sweat off her breast (you may remember mention of this doctor in an earlier post where he was videotaping us as we put our wetsuits on), he declared that her temperature was back to normal and that we could start to get her ready to go to the hospital to which point Dymphna declared “I am not going to the hospital.” At this point we knew that she would be ok. The Dymphna that we knew and loved was back. Encouraged by her remark, we started to tease her and she responded with gusto even managing to pick out the right finger to give the appropriate response.

It was time to get her to the hospital. We grabbed some of her stuff, put her on a mattress and off she went to get some good IV fluids. A couple of hours later she was home with strict orders to take it easy and not do anything for the next five days. The next morning she was back on Facebook talking about her near death experience and I knew that she would be ok.

What was amazing was how fast it all happened. She was fine during the dives. There were no symptoms on the boat. We had no clue that anything was wrong and then it only took about 10 minutes for her to loose consciousness. Just goes to show how careful and aware you have to be. These things can happen anytime, anywhere, to anyone- even those people who seem to be invincible. The ironic part is that Dymphna had been looking after all of us for the four weeks we were together. She was a vet and her father a doctor, so medicine was in her blood. Any opportunity to help someone and she was there. None of us thought that she would be the one who would need the most serious treatment.

Now, I know that Dymphna wanted to make my last day really special but really, a nice card would have done just fine. I am glad that you're ok Dymphna and it really was an incredible four weeks, but if you ever do anything like that to me again, I will kick your ass! Thanks for making it so memorable.

No Go Zone

Ever been in the wrong place where it's always the wrong time? This happened to me in Maputo and it never should have. We had been warned. We had been shown on the map where the “No Go” zone was, and yet, there we were, right in the middle of it. I'm still not sure how it happened but these are the kinds of things that happen when complacency sets in.

Before heading off on our adventure to Maputo we spoke to our fellow volunteer who had spent some time there. She pointed out some sights and then was very emphatic about an area of the coast which was a “no go” zone. It had been pointed out to her and being a conscientious traveller passed the information on to us. So, how did we end up in that very part of the city? I guess it started when Sylvia's camera broke.

It's Saturday morning and we're at the top of the 33 storey building,the tallest building in all of Africa. The first unbelievable thing is that they don't charge people to go to the top. It has an incredible view and you can see all of Maputo which would make it a valuable tourist attraction, but for now it is wide open, anyone can hop on the elevator to the top floor between the hours of 9 and 4. The second unbelievable thing about the 33 storey building is that the let you onto the roof of the building. There is an observation area with a nice high wall to prevent people falling off, but above that is the roof of the building. It also has a wall to prevent people falling off it, but all along that wall there are satellite dishes, telephone wires, cables and assorted other electrical gadgets. Anyone could go up there and just wreak havoc but apparently there is a certain amount of trust that you won't mess with anything. So, there we are at the top of the world happily taking pictures, when Sylvia's camera stops working. In a way it's a good thing that it happened in the capital city because there was a chance, a slight chance, that someone would be able to fix it. There definitely is not a camera repair person in Tofo or Inhambane. So, the adventure begins.

We head back across the street to our hotel to see if they know of a camera repair shop. Repair shop- yeah right. They did know of a camera shop down the street and maybe they could help us. When we arrived at the shop, we the camera “expert” who quickly determined that he would be unable to help us. However, he did know of a repair shop uptown and he wrote out the address and directions for us. Back on the street we found a cab on the corner. Off we went to store number two. Upon arriving however, we found out that while they repair many electrical things, they do not in fact repair cameras but they know someone who does and promptly wrote down the address of another camera shop. We were beginning to see a trend. Back in the cab, we headed off to store number three which was on the other side of town. It turned out that this “store” was nothing more than a kiosk at the entrance to the municipal gardens. A small triangular shaped building barely large enough for one person and the Kodak digital photo machine. As well, this person did not speak English and my Spanish did not get us very far given that the language spoken in Mozambique is Portugese. Eventually we were able to get across that the camera was broken and we were looking for a “Tech.” There was one associated with the store and he spoke English but he was not there that day. We thought that we had been defeated until Sylvia had a phone thrust into her hand and Abdul was on the other end of the line. He could be there in half an hour and would see what he could do.

It all sounds pretty simple but nothing is ever that simple in Africa. While all of this conversation and planning was going on, we were surrounded by wedding parties. Yes, parties. In the two hours we were in the park, there must have been at least 20 wedding parties that passed through. It seems that the thing to do when you get married in Maputo is to have your pictures taken in the municipal gardens. Couple after couple paraded by surrounded by friends and family chanting and singing top wish the couple well. It was unbelievable. What a thing to stumble upon. While Sylvia was working on getting her camera fixed, Nicole and I were enjoying the party. Listening to the songs and watching the dancing was entrancing. The park was transformed into a place of joy and hope. If Sylvia's camera had not broken, we would never have been able to take part in such an incredible day. It's strange how these things work out sometimes.

So, you're probably wondering at this point what this idyllic day in the park has to do with the no go zone. Well, on the way home from the fish market Friday night we had driven past a beautiful mosaic mural about 400m long. It just so happens that the park is located directly above this incredible mural. So, we thought wouldn't it be wonderful to get some pictures of the mural while we were so close to it. However, as we looked at the map, we realized that the mural was located directly in the 'no go' zone. Nicole and I said no, we weren't really interested in going there but Sylvia seemed really interested. She pointed out that the mural ended at the Club Naval (the yacht club) and that it would be safe there because it's for rich white people. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. We would go the Club Naval take pictures of the end of the mural closest to it. Sounds like a good plan, doesn't it?

We talked to the owner of the cafe where this brilliant plan was hatched and asked for directions how to walk to the Club Naval. He pointed out the way saying that it was a lovely walk and off we went. We found the road we had to take down the hill and it was lined with beautiful, expensive houses. Boys were skate boarding down the street and the guards waved and said hello as we passed. It was when we were almost at the bottom of the road that things began to get a little sketchy. The skateboarders who had inspired so much confidence in our plan stopped us at the bottom of the hill to warn us to be very careful with our bags. There were problems at the bottom of the road with people waiting to rob tourists. It seems that the beautiful mural was also the perfect bait to lure tourists into danger. At this point, it would have been smart to turn around and walk back up the hill to safety, but, really, who ever wants to walk up a steep hill. So, we carried on hoping to find safety with the young guy who was walking past selling ice cream from a little push cart. As we officially reached the end of the street where it meets the main road we quickly realized why it was a dangerous spot. On one side of us was a steep bank covered in trees and bushes, on the other was the ocean. We had two lanes of road and the only safe walking spot was the island between them. As we started our walk down the median a police truck drove slowly by, the driver giving us the signal to watch out, be aware, danger. This did not help the situation. The interesting thing about all of this was that Sylvia did not seem to be aware of the danger. I had handed her my camera, as hers was broken, and she was casually strolling down the median trying to figure out a good setting and taking pictures. Meanwhile, a truck had slowed down infront of us as if waiting for the opportune moment for its inhabitants to jump out and grab our stuff. We stopped where we were and formed a little cluster and eventually that truck drove off, but in the meantime at least two other cars had circle around picking out their target. It was at this point that the tuk-tuk arrived and Nicole and I jumped in not worried about the fact that he may also have been part of the scam, we were just happy to be getting off that road. Sylvia on the other hand, always the practical one, took the time to haggle with the driver over the price. I could have killed her at this point. I just wanted out of there.

Now, one could argue that we were never really in danger and it was just the power of suggestion that had created two paranoid women and that might be true. In the end, we did make it home safely still in possession of our money and cameras and that's what really matters but, it's a good reminder of why a 'no go' zone is so named and should be respected. Putting oneself in danger is never a good idea and should be avoided whenever possible, everyone knows this. Is a good picture really worth it? I don't think so and that may be the most tragic part of this entire story. The mural was not nearly as pretty in the daylight, and the pictures we took are actually crap. We went through all that for nothing except maybe a good story and a reminder that we are not invincible, a lesson that I will carry with me. Well, at least until the next really good photo op... just kidding.

Maputo- the capital of Mozambique

The main street is lined with buildings which were once incredible examples of colonial architecture but are now nothing but ruins. Tree roots have pushed through the sidewalks or the stones have been stolen causing the need to be constantly watching your feet when what you'd really like to be paying attention to is the dodgy guy who has been following you for two blocks. Sewer covers have fallen apart leaving huge holes in the sidewalk which could put you knee deep in an assortment of rubbish that has accumulated there over the years. There is no warning. There are no signs or bright coloured spray paint. Walk at your own risk. Maputo is a neglected city. What once must have been the pride of colonial Portugal is now a city struggling to move forward.

There is a sense of desperation in the people of Maputo. The city is supposedly thriving. It is the economic capital of Mozambique, one of the fastest developing countries in the world. After decades of civil war which landed the country at the bottom of the UN's world development list, Mozambique is clawing it's way up, digging itself out of poverty but not fast enough for the people who have moved to Maputo hoping for a better life and find nothing but unemployment and poor living conditions. As tourists we become a source of income. As we tour the streets like walking dollar signs, we become a target for street vendors and random guys who want to sell. Paintings, small wooden statues, necklaces, phone cards...there are men, never women, whose only source of income is peddling to tourists. At the end of the day if sales have been slow, their tactics become more aggressive because without a sale, they will not eat dinner. We saw this first hand in the Fish Market of Maputo.

The Fish Market is exactly what it sounds like. It a market where the locals come to sell their fish However, with the development of tourism, it has acquired a secondary function. Tourists are drawn there with the promise of a fresh fish dinner. Go to the market, pick out a fish and have it cooked for you in one of the many small restaurants surrounding the market.

The market is a far way out of town and we made the mistake of walking there our first night in town. Exhausted by the time we arrived, we were not ready to be accosted by promoters for the many different restaurants. Each restaurant has a guy staked at the entrance to the market to latch on to the tourists and lure them into their restaurant. Not knowing exactly how things worked we didn't want to commit to anyone and just walked through the market until we reached a point where surrounded by six different promoters each claiming to have been the first one to see us, to have the best restaurant and to be the most honest. My travel companions were overwhelmed with the pressure and were ready to leave, when one of the promoters took the hint and suggested that they all leave us alone and give us some space. “We'll go with him, the guy in the red shirt.” Decision made, the rest just drifted away.

Our promoter was Gasper and he turned out to be wonderful. He led us to the restaurant, got us some drinks and helped us to navigate the process. We had such a wonderful time that we decided to return on our last night in Maputo. Armed with the knowledge of how things worked, knowing which restaurant we wanted to go to and having arrived by tuk-tuk, the second visit to the market was far less stressful. Upon arriving at the restaurant Gasper gave us a warm welcome, found us a seat and set to making us feel completely at home. It was late Sunday afternoon, there was music playing and the place was filled with locals. It was the place to be. However, this also meant that we were more of a target for the salesmen who patrol the market looking for potential purchasers. This became a bit of a joke as we were subjected to sales pitch after sales pitch. “Buy this necklace, I give you a good price.” “Just look, looking is free.” “My name is Mr. Price, lets make a deal.” “Today is Sunday, I give you banana price.” Banana price?

We watched as ridiculous paintings were paraded past us- various renditions of a half naked woman in a variety of different dress colours, a picture of two hands with a child's small foot nestled in between, one we were told was a picture of Bob Marley's dad Elvis, another of Bob Marley himself. But my favourite must have been the one of the man kissing a ball (which may have been a man drinking from a coconut, but art is all in the interpretation). Needless to say, we didn't buy anything.

As the afternoon wore on and turned into evening, we were approached by a young man with necklaces who seemed more desperate than most. It was obvious that most of the men in the market were doing pretty well- nice clothes, healthy glow. This man was not. Lacking energy, wearing a worn t-shirt he focused what energy he had on me. “Please buy some necklaces. There haven't been many tourists today and I haven't sold anything. I need money so I can get the bus home. I live in the slums which are far away and I have to get home. 5 for 100 mets.” His necklaces were ugly and you never know what is the truth, perhaps this was just this guys strategy for a sale. He persisted for a while on the verge of begging when another group of tourists came in and he went off to try his luck with the new victims.

We were having a great time so dinner was a lingering affair. We watched the boys try to sell a white man drums, giving a full demonstration which involved every salesman giving the drums a try which resulted in a series of interesting beats, not all actually carrying a rhythm. It was at this point that we noticed our necklace friend devouring the scraps from the table beside us. So grateful to have some food he thanked his benefactors profusely for their generosity. He seemed to come to life. Like a new man, his energy was renewed, a smile across his face. Food was good, but it wouldn't help him get home to his family. His satisfaction was short lived as he resumed the hunt for a sale. There comes a point in time where you have to recognize just how blessed we are. Coming from Canada, I've had everything I've ever wanted. I have more opportunities than I know what to do with and have never had to beg for food or fight for an honourable life. 100 meticais is the equivalent of 4 dollars. I knew the man would return to our table, and I knew that I would buy his necklaces, an easy thing to do to help a human being retain their dignity. This had gone beyond the scam and had suddenly become quite real. He was a person in need. A real person, not just someone pestering me during my dinner.

I am now the proud owner of five ugly necklaces and as such I was able to make someone's day. As I put the 100 mets in his hand, you could see relief wash over him. He was going to be able to go home, he was ok for one more day.

Group Life

Group living is always interesting. For example, as I write this, there is a large Swedish man dancing in front of me clown-like asking if I'm going to include him in my blog.  He is a gentle giant, the sweetheart of the group who looks after everyone and who everyone loves.  Every group needs one of these people who provides and cares and is always there with a hug when something has gone wrong.

Then, there the person who he looks after most.  The blissfully unaware person one who thinks only about themselves and makes that nice person worry about them all the time.  We've had a few situations here where blissfully unaware has done something stupid and the gentle giant has had to come to his rescue.  They have been friends for years so I guess that this relationship works for them but it's definitely not balanced.

There are 16 of us living here in the house, plus two leaders who use the house as an office and come in and out throughout the day.  So far we have all gotten along pretty well but mostly that's just because the majority of us are easy going.  However, there is a PhD student who lives in the house who has a very low tolerance for other people.  As a result, a number of signs have appeared throughout the kitchen and living room advising us to keep the door closed to prevent mosquitoes from getting inside, to clean up the leftover food because there are people starving in Africa and that we should clean up the crumbs from our toast.  I'm not sure why she's living in the house right beside the kitchen but, there she is.  She has two friends and I call them 'the unsociables'. Her two sidekicks have already been here for a couple of months so, they feel a certain sense of possession and we are unwelcome.  They walk through the house talking only amongst themselves and make it very clear that they want nothing to do with the rest of us- it's a good thing that we outnumber them.  They have retreated into their bedroom behind closed doors which is perfectly ok with me.  I've tried to connect and they are just not interested so, not worth my time or effort.

Then there's the clueless boy:  young, sheltered and full of self importance- a dangerous mix.  He walked right through customs at the Inhambane airport because he didn't want to wait in line and already had a visa.  It did not occur to him that he had to get a stamp to validate his visa.  As a result, he was in the country illegally and could have been arrested.  Instead, because we have a really incredible local leader,  he only had to pay a fine of 504 euro.  Clueless boy did not have the money and had to borrow it from our Mozambican leader who only makes 7000 Meticais (roughly $240 US) a month.  I truly hope that he pays him back- but I have my doubts that he even appreciates just how much money he's borrowed in relative terms.  Clueless boy will get more money from his parents and not think twice about what an idiot he's been.  When he arrived, he forgot to bring most of the basics with him- deodorant, sunscreen, bug spray, shampoo...I have no idea what he had in his backpack but it wasn't anything useful.  He did however bring a guitar, which he in fact plays quite nicely (he's produced a demo of his own work, but he can't remember any of his own songs- not a good sign for someone who wants to be a musician).

To balance that out there are some very well travelled individuals who tell fascinating stories of travels all over the world.  I spend most of my time with these people.  We tend to group together to find relief from the insanity of the younger crowd.  The 'frat house' gets tiring after a while. 

There are the idealists who came thinking that they would actually be making a difference and are completely disillusioned with the reality of the situation which is that we do one thing, a dive or ocean safari once a day, do a little data entry which may or may not be used in scientific study and spend the rest of the time hanging out relaxing.  Some people spend a lot of time suntanning on the beach and buying souvenirs, while other people drink and party every night then spend the day recovering.  I spend my time somewhere in between- sometimes sleeping, sometimes taking pictures, sometimes writing, very rarely partying and never lying on the beach (I am far too white for that and remember how badly burnt I got at the beginning of the trip)

When we first arrived, we received very little guidance as to how things worked in the house.  It took most of us two weeks to figure out that there were sheets for the beds and that they would be washed every week by our houselady Anabella.  She spends the day in the house cleaning up after us and cooks dinner 3 nights a week.   As she is 6 months pregnant, she actually spends a lot of her time sleeping, but as there isn't that much that needs to be done it is ok.  However, to return to the above point, there is a distinct lack of leadership coming from our 'leaders.'  There favourite line seems to be 'You're adults and can look after yourselves' This is great but, if we don't have any information, it's hard to know how best to look after yourself.  After two weeks, we seem to have figured things out and have settled into the routine of life here, but it could have happened a lot faster if we had been properly oriented.

Food here is simple.  Breakfast is cereal or white toast.  Lunch is some sort of sandwich on white bread.  Maybe mayonnaise and cucumber or  peanut butter and banana or sometimes we have instant noodles for variety.  Dinner is rice and either beans or matapa (spinach and coconut milk). Please note how white everything is- white bread, white rice, white noodles... there's not a lot of fibre or variety in our diet in the house which means that on the nights when Anabella isn't cooking, most of us head out to the local restaurants for something to eat. Really, anything would do, but pizza is a particular favourite.  The other night gentle giant and blissfully unaware prepared a barbeque for everyone which was actually quite good.  I think it was mostly because they wanted to cook over a fire to satisfy some primal need but, I'm not complaining because the barracuda was delicious.  Needless to say, although invited, the 'unsociables' did not come.

As I said, during the day Anabella watches the house and makes sure that everything is safe and at night we have “the guard” which is really two different guys who sit on the porch from sundown to sunup.  They don't do anything except drink coffee and occasionally eat some of our left overs.  However, they do create a presence near the house which keeps people from exploring where they are not wanted.  I guess that makes it worthwhile.

That my friends is our house.  I guess that our house isn't too much different from any house or our family any different from any other family.  There's always the strange cousin, the bratty little brother and the hard to live with Aunt.  We've found a balance and it's a good one.  Things shift within it as we learn and grow and by the time it's all over, there's a part of me that will miss this.  However, there is also a part of me that will love having a bed that isn't parabolic in shape (definitely sunken in the middle), food that has some flavour and nutritional quality and personal space.  Home is home, and it always feels good to be back there, but for a short time, it's nice to experience something new.

   

Diving

I love diving.  It is an incredible feeling to be under the water, breathing; and the things you see are absolutely amazing.  I imagine that it's a little like what it would feel like to fly.  You float over the reef looking down, sometimes drifting lower to check something out, sometimes soaring higher above everything.  For the most part it is peaceful and calm but, there are parts of the process that are far from zen-like.

Take the wetsuit for example.  Putting on a wet suit is not fun, especially when you have a little extra girth.  It takes me 20 minutes to get the suit to my waist.  I skinned four of my knuckles and the dive doctor has videotaped the process twice for what I assume is his own amusement, however, should you find it on YouTube, please let me know.

Second is getting in and out of the boat.  Diving here in Tofo is quite interesting.  It is virtually impossible to moor a boat because the sand is deep and continuously shifting, and anything that they try to anchor ends up drifting away.  So, they use a boat with inflated pontoons and a hard plastic bottom and they beach it.  This makes it quite an adventure at the beginning and end of each dive.  To start, the boat is driven to the beach on a trailer and backed into the water as far as it can go.  Then, we all stand at one side of the bow and push it away from the shore.  Quickly we divide so that half of us are on one side, half the other and we push the boat further into the water.  When the boat reaches waist high water, they yell girls in and the women jump into the boat.  The boat is usually up around my shoulders at this point, as I am vertically challenged, and I have to jump really high- definitely not my forte.  What usually happens is that I beach myself about halfway in and someone unceremoniously throws my legs in, rather like tossing a dead seal into the boat.  It's not at all graceful.  During the dive, the process is similar except at the point, there is no bottom to jump off of and I barely make it to the half point.  I am definitely not impressing anyone.  It is my goal to be able to do it effortlessly by the end of the trip.  In the meantime, I get a little help from my friends.

At the end of the trip, we put our feet in foot straps, hold onto ropes that run from the front of the boat to the back and they put the boat full throttle and head for shore.  It's so strange to hear the motors get louder and know that you're heading straight onto shore.  If the boat happens to ride a wave in, the boat gets dumped on the shore with a thud and everyone in it is thrown into the boat with a thud.  Everyone hops out of the boat onto the shore and they pull the boat up a little further with the truck.

In Australia the diving was pretty easy comparatively.  We'd leave from a pier and the back of the boat would have a dive platform- easy in, easy out.  When you got to the dive site there was a mooring line so, you stepped off the boat, found the line and followed it down to the bottom.  Here, you roll backwards off the boat, head straight down and aim for the orange line which is trailing behind the lead diver.  Again, everything is a little bit more difficult here.

However, even with things being more difficult, the whale sharks and manta rays definitely make it all worthwhile and hey, if I can get passed the dead seal stage and can actually get into the boat somewhat gracefully, I will have learnt something new and that's always a good thing.

Whale Sharks

Whale sharks rock! Today I went snorkeling with a beautiful 9m whale shark- what an incredible experience.

Getting a boat in and out of Tofo is an interesting experience. There is not public dock or mooring line so you have to launch the boat from shore every time. Everyone gets to the bow of the boat and pushes it around so that the boat is facing the ocean. Then we go on either side and pull the boat into waste deep water at which point the girls are allowed to jump in over the side and grab a seat. Then, the boys drag the boat a little further in and when the motors can be lowered, the boys jump in and off we go through the waves holding on for dear life.

Then comes the fun part of looking for the whale sharks. Two people at the bow and one perched high up on a chair, they scan the ocean for something dark and moving. We zigzag back and forth parallel to the shoreline and wait. We were out for about 40 minutes before anything was actually spotted but then there she was. Fins, mask and snorkel on, we slip into the water as best we can and follow. Now when I say slip in, it is not nearly so graceful as that. It is nearly impossible to enter gracefully with you have fins on and are trying to slide in over the side of rubber, inflated boat. However, it's important to try not to make too much splash as it scares away the shark.

Once in the water, it's every man for himself. There were three boats around the shark, which meant approximately 30 swimmers. I was lucky that I was at the front of the pack for most of the swim, but if you got left behind a little all you saw was the bubbles and fins of the person in front of you. I did have a couple of unfortunate moments where I ended up behind this guy who kept flashing me as he pulled his swimsuit out from between his butt cheeks, but that's another story.

We were lucky today for many reasons. 1. She was a girl. Tofo gets a lot of whalesharks but most are immature males. It seems that Tofo is the equivalent of an all male junior high. 2. She was a little bit older. Whalesharks reach their maturity at about 10m and she was around 9. 3. She was just out for a leisurely stroll and she wasn't really concerned that we were around. She put up with us for about 40 minutes which apparently is almost unheard of. 4. She didn't swim quickly. It was quite easy to keep up with her.

All in all, an excellent first experience. I could definitely get used to this.

From Joburg to Tofo- one long day of travel

I woke up early on Monday. I had set my alarm for 7 so that I'd be ready for my 8:30 departure for the airport but woke up somewhere around 4 but was able to go back to bed and sleep until around 6:30 at which point I gave up and got out of bed. I wandered into the lounge where I was met by the guy who was taking me to the airport and, as happens in Africa where organization is not a strong point, he asked if it would be possible to leave at 7:30 instead because they had to pick up another group for the airport and they didn't want to be late for the start of the tours that they were also driving that day. OK, 7:30 it is, but will I get breakfast before I go? Yes, but you have to eat quickly.

We picked up a group of retired teachers who were doing a tour of South Africa and off we went to the airport. I arrive really early and took my time checking in and had time to buy another plug adaptor as somehow I managed to bring two adapters which were the wrong size. The Johannesburg airport is a shopping mall. Once you are through customs you can spend your pre-flight time shopping at Hugo Boss, buy all your trekking gear from the outdoor store or sample some of Africa's finest snacks. It truly is amazing. In fact, they only put about 8 seats at each of the gates in an attempt to get you to shop more.

In the departures lounge there was a large board which displayed all the flights and their gate numbers. I found my flight and the gate had changed from A29 to A20. Off I went to A20 where I was able to find a plug and sat down to with the computer to write in my journal. Nearby there were two guys who seemed completely stressed out. They were yelling into their phones and pacing back and forth and generally disturbing the energy of the airport with all their extra emotions. However, it was because of those two guys that I found out the gate hadn't actually changed and that the plane was now boarding from gate 29. Ah, modern technology. It's only useful if it is working- otherwise it's just very expensive junk.

The flight was short and the plane had propellers. When we arrived in Inhambane there was one customs official and about 12 people who needed visas. It's a very small airport and this man was having a very bad day. When you get a Mozambican visa you need to have your picture taken and the background of the picture must be blue. The man's blue screen broke. Over the next 10 people he had to fix the screen everytime before he could take the picture. You also get finger printed and have to pay 85 dollars. Needless to say, it was a long and painful process made even longer by one of the girls on the project who did not have any cash to pay for the visa. The visa costs $85US (which I think is a ridiculous amount of money for a visa) and she only had $20 so, she had to come to group leader to ask to borrow money. Not a great way to make a first impression. The group finally all made it through customs and by this point it had started to rain. A quick sprint through the raindrops and we were in our chapa which is essentially a well worn minivan that carries between 15 and 40 people. In our situation we had fifteen people with full lugage. The luggage is put on the front bench precariously balanced while we sit behind it hoping that the Grand Canyon sized potholes would not dislodge a bag into our laps. The windows fogged, the potholes huge and many girls who had to pee, we headed out. We were on our way to our final destination of Tofo.

In group style 5 people needed to change dollars or South African Rand into Metacals which meant that we had to stop at the bank/gas station. Over an hour later, we were back on our way. It seems that they lose their internet connection every couple of minutes and cannot process people's transactions without the internet. A very efficient system.

Driving into Tofo, we stopped at the local backpackers Fatima's to pick up two more people. Where they were going to sit, we weren't sure, but in the end we got them in. Some people scooched over and “skinny guy” was able to lean on the luggage. However, “skinny guy” has a problem remembering things. First he took forever to come to the van and then he had to go back into the hostel 3 times. This does not a popular guy make.

We arrived at the house and not really knowing anyone, had to decide who our roommates would be for the next four weeks. It was a free for all. The house has two floors with bedrooms on both. It was difficult to tell which beds were empty and which were taken and in the end, the girls who had already been here for a month were able to get a room to themselves because they left their stuff lying around to make it look like all the beds were taken- sneaky and not very friendly.

A brief organizational meeting and some dinner and we were free for the evening. Off we went to Fatima's for a drink and to get to know each other.

A long day, but a good start to the project.

A 9 hour car tour of Johanessburg

*Disclaimer- I am not a historian nor have I researched what I am writing about. A self proclaimed ignoramus on the history of South Africa, there are probably many historical mistakes in the following post.

Yesterday I was a tourist. I did a 9 hour driving tour around Johannesburg. I'm not sure why I did it other than the fact that I figured if I just hung around the lodge, I would just sleep and that wouldn't help the jet lag in any way. So, off I went on a 9 hour tour.

The mode of transportation was a very small Chevrolet which was meant to house a very large tour guide and three passengers. I was luck enough to be sitting shotgun which was great from looking out the window and seeing the sights, but it also meant that every gear shift and lane change I would receive a gentle nudge in the leg or arm. Pastor was a lovely guide but perhaps had been doing this a little too long. I was the first to be picked up which meant that I had the pleasure of being in the car as we drove to pick up the other two passengers. This gave me lots of time to chit-chat with Pastor and really get to know him...it was a long day.

Our first stop was to drive through Hillbrow which is the area of town with the highest crime rate. Apparently last year there were over 2500 crimes in that one area alone including rape, human trafficking, drug dealing, prostitution and murder, and those were only the crimes that the police know about. It was once an area where white people lived but after the end of apartheid all the white people moved out because it became a popular area for “foreigners” meaning Nigerians, Zambians, Zimbabweans... It seems that racism exists all over the world. Nigerians are definitely seen as the lowest of the low- according to the tour guide anyway. Now the area is just a haven for crime, poverty and illegal activity. However, “the crime only happens at night so, we were perfectly safe driving through the area during the day.” Interesting.

Next was a quick jaunt past two of the soccer stadiums used for the world cup and a drive over the Mandella bridge into Newtown. It looks very much like old town. It is home to the Market theatre and Mary Fitzgerald square named after a famous woman labour leader. She helped to bring better working conditions to the coal mines in the 1920s.

From there we drove through downtown Joburg which is very similar to any other city in a developing country. Definitely not pretty and almost empty because it was Sunday. There was the usual assortment of KFCs and Macdonald's but most of the stores were closed so I couldn't really tell what else there was behind the metal grating. Many of the buildings downtown have been abandoned because of crime and the dangers of the city. Most businesses have moved to the suburbs or shopping malls where people aren't afraid to come. What were once beautiful old buildings are now falling apart because no one is interested in investing the money for upkeep.

We left the city proper and visited Soccer City, home to the opening and closing game of the world cup. A stunning stadium in the shape of a calabash, the outside panelled with rectangles of red, brown and white. The outside of the stadium was impressive but apparently inside it was the same stadium that was built in 1989 they just wrapped it up pretty for the world cup.

Next we headed to the “township.” This was a new concept for me. I wasn't exactly sure what was meant by this term that was being thrown around so casually. A township is where the black people were sent to live and is the equivalent of a slum. The most famous township is Soweto. It's divided into three distinct classes. The upper class people live in houses very much like any other suburb. Made of cement blocks and stuccoed, most of these houses had large walls surrounding them and security systems installed. The middle class is divided between old style “hostels” and the newer government provided housing. The hostels were made for the miners a long time ago and do not have electricity or running water. They are rows upon rows of basic block buildings with tin roofs. The government supplies port-a-potties for bathroom facilities and they are emptied every couple of days. The newer developments, which are built surrounding the old hostels, because that is the only land they have to develop, are made of brick, have electricity and running water and house 4 families each. The problem is that these newer houses are not being built very quickly and while you wait for one to be built you have to live in the slums and even then, the house that was meant to be for you, may be given to someone who “has friends.”

The slums are exactly that. On the outskirts of the township there are people who live in tin shacks stacked up against each other. Again there are port-a-potties provided but it doesn't seem as though there are nearly enough. The people collect scrap metal and recycling to earn any money that they can. They use communal water taps and have to carry the water in whatever containers they can find and if there's a fire, the whole little shanty town goes up in flames.

After Apartheid, the human rights declaration states that everyone shall have a home. They way that they have done this is once you are in government housing, you own the house and the land that they've given you. That means that even when you have a job and earn good money, you don't need to pay for the land or the house and you can do whatever you want with it. So, you have people who have built beautiful homes beside the relative simplicity of their neighbours house or, you see people living in a single room house but who drive extremely expensive cars or where designer clothes or both.

We left the Soweto to go and see the street where both Desmund Tutu and Nelson Mandela lived. It is amazing that two Nobel Peace Prize winner both lived on the same street.

That amazing street is also very close to where the 1976 school protests took place. I was really quite ignorant about all the things that happened in South Africa so really didn't understand what it was all about. Through a series of events, the language of instruction in black schools was changed from English to Afrikaans. From what I understand, Afrikaans was a language created by the Dutch because they wanted to control what happened in SA. They wanted to show dominance over the black people. As a result, the students were taught in the their own language in elementary school (one of 9 dialects), then in their first years of high school were taught in English and then for their final years were expected to switch to Afrikaans. This meant that the students were not succeeding which may have been the intention all along. The students tried to talk to their parents, teachers, principals and they all agreed that the system wasn't working but there was nothing they could do. The politicians wouldn't be told what to do by a bunch of students so they arranged a peaceful protest. Three high schools coordinated together and the students took to the streets to walk in protest. It didn't take long for the police to start shooting rubber bullets, then tear gas and finally real bullets. Students died and it was enough to get the attention of the international media which eventually lead to the end of apartheid. So, we saw the street where the students were killed and the Eric Pieterson museum. It very nicely summarized the events leading up to the killings and the actions that resulted.

From the museum we headed around the corner for lunch. We ate at a typical South African corner restaurant which served BBQ beef or chicken, papa(a corn products with the same consistency as cream of wheat cereal), mashed potatoes, gravy, beet salad and cow's head stew. All sounds pretty good, doesn't it, until you get to the stew. There were parts in that stew that I recognized and parts that I didn't- it was the parts that I didn't recognize which caused the greatest concern. All in all, pretty delicious.

We quickly drove past a church where policmen opened fire on a group of people who were holding a meeting to protest against the ruling party and arrived at the Apartheid museum. I had high hopes. Having been at the museums at places like Hiroshima Japan where the nuclear bomb hit, seeing the high school and killing fields in Cambodia, and touring the Viet Nam war museum, I had expected to be moved and emotional. Instead, I got bombarded with political facts and information. The layout of the museum was confusing and it weaved back and forth a lot making it hard to figure out which direction to go in. I found that it was too specific in its details and didn't contain enough emotion and personal histories. After the first hour I was tired of reading and was only half way through the museum. There were pictures but they weren't well captioned. I left knowing more about Apartheid but it didn't create any feeling in me. I should have left feeling outraged at what the white people had done and feeling compassion for the black people. Instead I just felt tired and my head hurt. However, if you are person who enjoys reading long descriptions about political happenings, this would be a great museum for you. For people who know me, and anyone who's travelled with me, you know I appreciate the visual part of a museum more than the written and I just found that this museum was lacking.

So, after that long day (and don't forget that I'm dealing with jet lag because there's a seven hour time difference between SA and Canada) I got to sit in the car as we dropped off the other two girls and then we finally headed home (or back to the lodge- at this point home is where ever my backpack happens to be) Beyond exhaustion I have some dinner at the lodge and try to get to bed early to be ready for another travel day.

Arrival

     I arrived in Joburg yesterday afternoon.  23 hours of travel and feeling ok.  First order of business is to find a bank machine.  People crowded the arrivals lounge, each with their own sign to identify who they were looking for.  In the span of less than two minutes, 20 signs were thrust in my direction and I was asked if I was Emily, Jennifer or Dan.  Lining the arrivals lounge were the Traveller's Exchanges, each with their own huge line up as people frantically changed their American dollars, British Pounds or Euros.  I didn't need an exchange.  I just needed an ATM from which to extract some South African Rand.  Some of the exchanges offered ATM Tellers- like an ATM but a person, charging a commission and giving a bad exchange rate.  I'm sure many a tourist has been loured into their trap because it seems to be the only option.  However, if you leave the chaos of arrivals behind you and travel further into the airport, you get propositioned by taxi drivers trying to scam you into taking their non-metered taxis but you also find the ATM.  Rands in hand, or should I say in travel purse with zipper closed and flap buckled, I went back to arrivals to meet my airport pickup.
     Such an odd thing travelling.  Before I left home, I booked a hostel through a website based on what I assume is other people's reviews.  For all I know the hostel owner himself could have posted all the reviews to attract gullible tourists such as myself.  Then, I send an email to said hostel requesting an airport pickup.  I receive a reply saying to meet a guy with a MoAfrika Lodge sign next to the Tourist Information Centre.  So, off I go to the tourist information centre and meet a guy with a worn, laminated piece of paper that says MoAfrika.  He grabs my bag, we head to his van and there I am driving down the highway in Africa with a complete stranger.  There are so many things that we are warned about.  Safety, safety, safety!  Yet, something like getting into a car with a stranger is inevitable when you are travelling.  These are the small risks we need to take everyday to get around the world.  To me, these risk are well worth the results and a little bit of trust accompanied by a greater sense of respect has never caused me harm.

First Impressions

I first saw Africa through an air plane window. Flying somewhere over Namibia, I saw flatness. Unbelievable flatness. So flat that the small white clouds left exact replicas of themselves strewn across the landscape. As if the sun were shining straight down with the cloud the only thing standing in it's way. There is no depth to the ground just brown crisscrossed with the straightness of roads. The first brown was spotted, like the neck of a giraffe- brown on brown in irregular pentagons occasionally interrupted by a meager stream trying hard to go somewhere but ending no where. A large body of water somewhere mid country shows its edges surrounded by glaring white which is assumed to be salt. The giraffe spots have been replaced by large sheets of mottled brown lacking any definition except the clouds leaving their footprints. There is no lushness here. No imagination; only the harsh reality of a world where the sun beats down relentlessly and life struggles to survive.

As we got closer to Johannesburg the landscape became more familiar. You could see blocks of land allocated to agriculture and farming. The occasional house could be seen and things got greener. Areas of rock could be seen emerging from the flatness; small lakes and bodies of water. Many farmers fields are round, following the outline set by the irrigation lines. Fields vary in colour- some red, others black, many a dull yellow. As we descend to the ground, there are trees and suburbs and it feels like flying into someone's scale model train set- things seem just a little too perfect. The houses are cookie-cutter, the trees too green. There is a lot of space- which is strange coming from a Canadian.

Random Observations during a flight

As I walked through the departure lounge he attracted my attention. Someone trying so hard to look so cool. Latino, pinstriped pants, denim button down shirt buttoned down, newspaper boy cap turned backwards, his body language saying I am a man- one leg bent, other outstretched, slouching, hand in crotch gently emphasizing his manhood, brown suede jacket. He was painting a picture of how we should perceive him and trying to hide the fact that he was aging. The flecks of white in his hair gave him away.

As I walked into the plane, tiny and cramped, I looked toward my seat and who should be beside me but the man himself. Barely acknowledging my presence he shifted his body to let me into the window seat, promptly fell asleep, mouth agape, and small streams of drool slowly trickling from the corner of his mouth. How quickly a persona can be shattered.

The couple across the aisle can only be described as typically American. She blonde and blue eyed, him broad and dark haired. Drinking beer, they played Yahtzee through the entire flight. It was refreshing to see a couple play together and genuinely enjoy each others company. The skeptic in my wondered how long it would last.

Airports

It's amazing how the landscape of the airport has changed in the last 10 years.  I remember when I first started travelling, I would arrive at the airport and use the public phone to call my parents or friends to let them know what was going on.  Then, there were small internet terminals where you could pay a small sum of money to use a computer with a weird red ball as a mouse and hit or miss internet connections and definitely not high speed.  Today, as I sit in the airport for two hours waiting for my flight, I look around me and everyone is connected.  I mean everyone.  People on their blackberries, laptops, iphones connecting and working while they wait.  I see Kobo e-readers and nintendo DSs.  I even uploaded a new version of Nortel while I sat here to make sure that my computer doesn't crash while I'm away.  What a wonderful world we live in where we can be connected where ever we go.  From what I understand, there will even by WIFI on the flight. 

What did we use to do before we had such conveniences?  How did we manage when we couldn't work or write status updates or play angry birds as we wasted away the hours?  I know what I used to do.  I would relax.  I would watch people or strike up a conversation with the person beside me.  I'd go and look in the airport book store which inevitably had a wonderful selection of paperbacks just ready for reading.  I would connect, but in a different way.  I would connect with what was immediately around me.  I'd live in the moment no matter how dull or boring and find a way to enjoy it.  Now I see people panicking as their battery starts to die and they can't find an available plug.  I see people doing their jobs and tension in their necks visible as the pound the keyboard.  I see people with phone tumours attached to their faces and they have no idea whose sitting around them. I see children trying to get their parent's attention to tell show them something they've seen but their parents are too busy talking to notice either the child or what's happening around them.
Yes, I'm sitting here on my newly purchased netbook blogging away but that's mostly because I'm using this platform as my journal for the trip.  I could just as easily be sitting here writing in a notebook.  I'm not plugged in.  I know that the woman beside me is playing solitaire on her iphone and that the two people across from me are travelling on business and I just made eye contact with a really cute guy who just walked past.  Travel has definitely changed.  You will know what happens on this trip pretty much as it is happening.  I will be emailing and posting on facebook.  I wonder if I will miss the sense of getting away from it all.  I think that I used to like being unreachable and being in a place where no one can find me.

The Plan

So, people have been wondering about what I'm going to be doing in Africa.  Here's the plan:

November 04:  Fly to Johannesburg via Atlanta on Delta Airlines (never flown Delta, have a feeling it's not going to be stellar, but it was that cheapest and got me into Joburg at the best time)
November 05:  Arrive in Joburg and go to a hostel for a couple of nights to acclimatize to the 40 degree temps and time difference
November 07:  Fly to Inhambane, Mozambique where I meet up with the people from African Impact and go to Tofo where I'll stay for the next four weeks swimming with whalesharks and scuba diving on the reef.
December 05- December 17:  Fly back to Johannesburg and start a two week overland trip with Intrepid Travel through Botswana (Elephant sands, Okavanga Delta), a couple of days in Vic Falls, then a few days in Kruger National Park and back to Joburg.
December 17-20:  Free time to explore Johannessburg
December 20:  Head home in time for Christmas.

That's the plan, now I only hope that everything works out that way.  I had a plan for Thailand too but then the airport got occupied! Touch wood...

Africa here we come!

Two weeks till take off.  I think I've got everything ready to go.  I've booked my flights, found the tours, gotten the shots, bought the travel insurance...the list seemed never ending.  Now all that's left to do is pack my bag and head to the airport, well, that is after I finish marking 22 final essays, pack up my apartment and move all my stuff into a storage unit.  It's going to be a busy couple of weeks. Good thing I'm going on vacation!