Gorillas in the Mist

We are home.

It took twenty-six hours, three more flights (totalling twenty for the entire trip), and a bout of food poisoning to get us here, but we are home. I spent far too many days on this trip dealing with motion sickness-induced nausea, so the food poisoning was a very unwelcome bonus bug. Too many strangers have witnessed me vomiting to last a lifetime. 

In spite of all of that, it was an amazing voyage. It was my dream trip. I've been talking about exploring Africa for decades. The Husband kept saying that we were there in part because of my obsession. I really wanted to experience something so different I would remember it forever. I think we accomplished that goal. Twin Son came up with our "F***ing Awesome" mantra, and we invoked it every single day. Why? Because there was always something F***ing Awesome to see. Whether it was watching an elephant herd cross directly in front of us; gazelles racing across the savannah; lion cubs gleefully playing under the watchful eye of their mama; wildebeests trying to regulate their internal compasses to cross the river; a lame lion pride leader hobbling across the plain to reach his brother, the new king; or climbing up a volcano to watch a family of mountain gorillas frolic in the forest, this trip really was f***ing awesome at its core. 

I would highly recommend you go to Africa. I would also put some huge caveats on that recommendation. Plan a trip that is right for you and your abilities. Not everyone can do what we did. I'm not even one hundred percent sure that we were able to do what we did. There were days that we spent up to eleven hours in a jeep in order to capture some of the magic we witnessed. Roads in some of these places are suggestions. Our old-people asses suffered. We often operated on caffeine and adrenaline; four-thirty wake-ups were the norm. Bathrooms? Well, I will leave some of that to your imagination. We slept in glamped-up tents. Not exactly roughing it, but not exactly the Ritz either. It was unbearably hot in some locales and unforgivingly cold in others. We climbed up and down mountains, and we hiked on legs that have sometimes seen better days. I tell you all of this not to dissuade you. I am telling you to manage a trip built for you. When you get to the planning stages, call me. I can give you some helpful hints. I promise to be brutally honest.

I love adventure trips. I can't always handle all the motion or travel, but I refuse to allow my disabilities in this area to hold me back. Our travel partners were, as always, stellar. Our experiences were truly once in a lifetime. It is taking both The Husband and me some time to reacclimatize. Jet lag is also one of those things that gets worse with age. He is busily going through approximately seven thousand photos. When he is satisfied, he has promised to post a few of his favourites. Patience. It really is a virtue.

We arrived home to a disaster. The destruction in the kitchen is complete, and the rebuild is slowly underway. The only place we can sit with any comfort is our bedroom. Our old refrigerator is plugged into the family room; the new appliances are being stored in the living room; and we can't find our knives. The Husband is running out every morning to our neighbourhood Starbucks for his coffee. Cooking is impossible unless the food is microwavable. The entire condo is covered in plastic drop cloths. My neatness compulsion is in a tailspin. Patience. I will provide a better update in a day or two with some photos.

Thanks for following along. I know that Twin Son's Better Half posted photos on a regular basis, so a few of mine are probably redundant, but I will give you a few from my absolute highlight: the gorillas. I was Dian Fossey. I witnessed gorillas in the mist. 

The Sort of Innocents Abroad

 "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness"~ Mark Twain (The Innocents Abroad, 1869).

We have seen so many wondrous sights on this trip. There is absolutely nothing that can equal watching a baby elephant nurse in its natural habitat. Tens of thousands of wildebeests migrating as they are supposed to do. Two warthogs fighting for territory were silly and thrilling. The fallen majesty of a lame lion, formerly the leader of the pride, being led across the savannah by a young lioness so that he could join his newly anointed brother. All of it inspired amazement. All of it is a marvel.

But as much as I have adored every new adventure, I have enjoyed talking with the people who have facilitated our trip just as much. They hail from various parts of this continent, most of them young people, who have found their way to the hospitality industry through different pathways. 

There is Mercy, quiet, dignified, curious, and soft-spoken. Mercy was obviously a gifted student from a small village, whose teachers recognized her intelligence and sharp mind. At a fairly young age, Mercy left for boarding school and then to university. Her family and her village scraped together whatever funds necessary for her to continue her studies. It was a real hardship for them. They would give her the money, and then tell her exactly how much she could spend per day. There were no frivolous expenditures. It was all counted down to the last penny. Even now, I can see her gratitude and how she returns to her village several times a year so that she can repay them all in some small way. Her sister jibes her about "being from the city," but Mercy carries her family and her village deep within herself. 

There is Precious. Precious was our guide in the Maasai Mara. She prides herself on being one of only two women to make the grade to be a guide there. Precious told us her harrowing story one evening as we were stalking a leopard. Her grandfather had promised her to an eighty-year-old man in their village when she was just thirteen years old. He expected her to marry him, be genitally mutilated, and have her bottom two teeth removed. Precious was having none of it. She ran away to the nearest large town and was taken in by a youth shelter. There she went to school for the first time, learned how to read and speak English, and entered into training as a guide. She started off as a housekeeper and worked her way up. Today, at the tender age of twenty-five, she is the married mother of two young boys. We met her husband, who works at a rival tour company. She is fiercely proud of all of her men, but she isn't done yet. She is now studying photography. Her optimism is infectious.

We met James in the Serengeti. James is an only child who was raised by generations of women after his father left the family. His wife and children still live with his mother and great-grandmother--who is still alive at one hundred and seventeen years old. She outlived her own daughter, who died last year at ninety-five. James is obsessed with the migration of the wildebeest. I have never seen such passion for something this bizarre. He pumped the accelerator on his jeep deep into the floorboards to catch the crossings like he was chasing a bat. James had the best smile I have ever seen, and when he talked about his two young children, he positively beamed. He has now been certified as a chef, and he can't wait to share his creative side with guests. He took a lot of ribbing from his friends about cooking being women's work, but James is an independent soul. He will be just fine.

We met Naomi and Richard as they gave us a tour of their village, Mto wa Mbu. It translates to River of Mosquitos, although we have been extremely fortunate not to have encounter a single insect. These two young (and I do mean young) people were so proud to show us their home. We saw the banana farms, the markets, and my personal favourite, an elementary school. The little ones there absolutely swarmed us. I was given high-fives, fist bumps, handshakes and more than one tiny peck on the hand. I loved these kids. Towards the end of our time with these teens, they took us to a small hut and described the courting rituals of their tribe. Let's just say it involves banana beer and a communal drink. They were so curious about how young people meet back home. When we told them that there is very little arrangement with marriage in Canada, Naomi looked at us and said, "I think I might like Canada." Richard was a bit more skeptical, but both of them were like sponges. They wanted every bit of information we were willing to offer. 

It is important to remember that we are guests here. We do not get to tell any of them that the way they were raised is wrong or repugnant. We share stories, and they do the same. We move past our own prejudices and bigotry when we try to understand where people come from. We may not agree with all of it, but it is their world, and we are just visiting. Be curious. 

A few tidbits.

1. The roads here are so bad they don't deserve the designation of road. They will hereby be known as Elephant Paths. Driving on them is a journey and a half. Imagine sitting atop a paint mixture during a 7.1 earthquake. Now imagine doing that for sometimes up to eleven hours a day. It makes for some interesting bumps and bruises in some interesting places.

2. We spent the last two days at the Ngorongoro Crater. A volcanic eruption over a million years ago created this fascinating ecosystem. The almost entirely round caldera is home to almost 30,000 individual animals and thousands of plant species. There are four distinct climate areas within the crater. There is a savannah, a forest, a marshland, and a desert. The temperatures and winds can change depending on which area you find yourself. It is kind of fascinating. We also went to Olduvai Gorge. This is the area of Tanzania where Louis and Mary Leakey excavated. The museum and fossils of prehistoric man are interesting, but my ass was screaming on the ride back.

3. We rise on the animals' schedules. They don't give a shit about ours. I have seen far too many 6:00am rises. I might sleep for a week when we return.

A few more of my photos from the iPhone. The Husband's are better, but he is stubborn about posting until he is satisfied. 

Running Of The Beasts

Jambo Jambo from the North Serengeti in Tanzania.

We arrived late yesterday afternoon after another eventful day on Tinker Toy Airlines. Two more flights in quick succession left me a bit woozy, but I'm still here. If you're new to me and my traumas, or why I am so obsessed with these flights, it has nothing to do with fear of the teeny-tiny airplanes or the heights. I am just trying to get from place to place without losing what's left of my stomach acid. (Trust me. There's no food in there.) These African countries use airplanes the way we might use a Greyhound bus. The countries are simply too vast and the populations too spread out to drive. So, in order to get to where we want to go, I am in a constant state of vertigo. I am not complaining (much), but it is something to think about if you are planning a safari or four.

We made this trek to Tanzania to see the southern migration of the wildebeest, a natural phenomenon that is a splendour to behold. Now there is a sentence I never thought I'd write in my life.  Our guide James, a driver so skilled he should be at Daytona, explained that the wildebeest migrate to the four corners of the Serengeti depending on the season. During this southern migration, they are headed south to give birth. They will head east to get it on and west to find greener pastures. They follow a clockwise motion and continue the pattern forever. Climate change has played some havoc with their biological clocks, but what hasn't climate change played havoc with?

These are really stupid animals. I mean, really stupid!!  We spent over eleven hours today watching these morons roam back and forth across the plains looking for an acceptable place to cross the river. Can you imagine? There are an estimated 1.5-3 million wildebeest that make their home here in the Serengeti, and every single one of them will make the crossing. 

It was some of the best eleven hours I have ever spent. We saw three and a half crossings, and it was a sight to behold. Sometimes they ran, sometimes they walked, and there was even one stampede. The people back at camp told us how incredibly lucky we were. It usually doesn't happen like that. James is da' man!  

We arrived back at Ubuntu Bush Camp dirty, exhausted, a bit sunburned, and incredibly excited. In a million years, I could never have imagined a day like today.

A bit about Ubuntu Camp. This is a true migration camp, which means they pull up stakes at the conclusion of the migration and follow the wildebeest down south. It is the most rustic of the safaris we've been on so far, but it is still quite lovely. You really haven't lived until you've taken a bucket shower or slept in mosquito netting. Neither of those are nearly as difficult as they sound, so don't let it dissuade you. It is really worth the effort.

A few odds and ends.

I have learned a lot of new euphemisms for urinating. Out of respect for the culture and the people here, I will refrain from publishing them publicly. If anyone is weirdly curious, I will supply a few offline.

I am a city girl at heart. I like the hustle and bustle and comforts of the twenty-first century. I will not deny it. But I have a deep and unending love for nature in all its forms, and I love learning how different cultures and communities live their lives with respect for their surroundings. The best way to educate oneself is to travel. The best way to learn respect for people is to live in their spaces and ask them questions. In spite of some of my difficulties, I wouldn't give up travelling for anything.

Is it really possible to become blasé about seeing animals multiple times? I can't believe we are in the "Eh...another impala" phase. Never become complacent. There is always something new.

By the way, a group of wildebeest is called a confusion. This is for all my Hearoglyphics players. 

An Hour in a Balloon

It takes so little to make people feel welcome: a handshake, an introduction by name, or maybe a cold beverage. Kindness goes a long way to making a stranger feel at home.

The Kenyan people are amongst the loveliest and friendliest people we have encountered on our travels. Everybody, from drivers/guides to managers, waiters, and room attendants, has extended open arms and a solicitous embrace.  Sometimes, it can be difficult for our North American sensibilities to discover that people just want to be kind. Even during a small hiccup like our jeep breaking down in the Mara this morning, the Hakuna Matata attitude is prevalent. (That's a real phrase, by the way.) "No worries. We've found you another jeep with a new driver." Of course, he's a newbie and got a bit lost on the way back to camp, but we just said. Hakuna Matata.

Many times since we got here, I have felt like I am in The Lion King. It is not an exaggeration to suggest that Disney did a great job capturing this part of the world. The starkness and desolation of the landscape are striking. They desperately need rain right now and are praying to any god and using any folk tale that might bring it. The riverbeds are drying up, and the animals are starting to thirst for green pastures. It is part of the difficult life cycles and weather patterns here on the Mara. Even the acacia trees are parched.

We left Ol Pejeta yesterday and flew (if what we did could actually be called flying) to Encounter Mara in the Maasai territory. I won't belabour this transportation nightmare, but it needs to be said that this is not a great tourist attraction. We did a milk run. Four stops for a trip that should have taken forty-five minutes. Some of those flights were less than six minutes. I don't recommend it, but now that I am of a sounder mind, the alternatives are worse. Either a six-hour jeep ride, or there is always the two-footed way. As much as I can't stomach these flights (insert your pun groan here), I am fully aware that they are really the best options. We sat at dinner last night with the assistant manager of the camp. Mercy regaled us with fabulous stories of her Maasai heritage, and then she told us how afraid she is to fly on these flights. That doesn't really inspire confidence. I will keep getting on these balsa wood contraptions that are held together by chewing gum and rubber bands because it is part of the adventure. I am actually counting down the remaining flights in my head. When I get to a workable number, I will let you know. 

I mentioned somewhere that we are all operating on very little sleep. That's because we are at the whims of the animals and their habits. If my thought process in these missives is a bit muddled, blame it on the lack of sleep and the copious amounts of antiemetics I've been taking. My grammar and spelling may be a bit rough. Be kind. This morning, we were out of here by 4:30am to drive to our balloon safari. If you haven't been ballooning, I highly recommend it. It is so beautiful and peaceful. From our perch several hundred feet above the savannah, we could see herds of zebras, wildebeest, ostriches, impala, eland, and some very shy lions. (We knew they were there, but we couldn't see them.) There was a glorious sunrise, and it was a wonderful way to get a different view of the territory. Breakfast on the ridge followed. This was a good way to fly.

Several of you have mentioned to me that you might be interested in this trip or a similar one someday. We should talk offline about it. It is magical, spectacular, and definitely not for everyone. I am not trying to dissuade anybody, but some of the conditions are tough, even in our glamping style of travel. The continent of Africa is big. So big! Plan wisely.

A few photos to keep you sated.