News from Tanzania

A Little of This and a Little of That

2012-01-15T08:19:00.011-05:00

Hello! I cannot believe that this school year is already half over and it's 2012! It has flown by before my eyes, leaving great memories and creating personal growth. With a lot of hard work and careful time management I successfully finished my first semester of graduate school online. I am loving the program (K-6 Math Specialist) and finding it incredibly useful in my daily teaching.

Over the Christmas holiday I was blessed with the resources to be able to come home. This was a very chill trip. I stayed at my parents and a few special people from Orlando either came down to Venice to meet me or met me in Tampa. I spent a lot of time at home enjoying friends, family, and the wonderful relaxation.

On the way back to Dar I made my layover in Turkey an extended one and got to explore Istanbul for a few days. The city, which lies partly in Europe and partly in Asia, is a beautiful dichotomy of the Muslim and Western worlds, of Eastern Europe and of the Middle East. A lot of the architecture of the buildings was quite European as was the dress of many young people. The older women looked very Eastern European too. It was neat to see a city that has been under both Orthodox and Muslim rule and the remnants of history that it has left behind. One historic site I visited, the Hagia Sophia (Holy Wisdom), was built in A.D. 360 as an Orthodox basilica and was used as such until 1453 when it became a mosque under the Ottoman empire. For four short years it also served as a Roman Catholic church. Then, in 1931 it was secularized and has become a museum and landmark since. The result of multiple rulings has had a huge impact on its interior design. Biblical frescoes and murals were covered up when it became a mosque, most of which has now been restored. I spent a lovely afternoon touring this breathtakingly beautiful piece of architecture and history, learning about all of its symbolism and admiring the art, down to the colors of marble and symmetry at every turn. At the end of this post I have attached multiple photo gallery links for different events. Be sure to check out my pictures of Istanbul to see the Hagia Sophia and many of the other wonders of Istanbul.

December is a short rainy season for Tanzania. It often rains for an hour or two in the afternoon most of the month before drying again until the longer rains in April. This month, however, it rained...and rained...and rained. My apartment complex is in a flood plain that has been created since the building of these apartments. In addition to Dar's terrible drainage system (there basically isn't one), some infrastructure and flood walls failed and my housing area had flash flooding. Within two hours we had more than 1 meter of water! Thankfully, my apartment is on the 3rd floor and I did not receive any direct and serious water damage. Most of my neighbors were also out of town for the holiday when it happened. Many things in homes were lost and a great amount of damage has occurred. The bridge that connects a large part of the city to our neighborhood was washed out and the sewer main on our property broke. =/ The school did an amazing job responding quickly and appropriately, bringing in many cleaners and groups to help control the flooding and begin the clean up process before many of us arrived. Our housekeepers spent their holidays cleaning and preparing for our arrival. Seven or eight of my colleagues are still not able to live in their homes and we are still experiencing many water outages and mold problems.

This is the view of my front yard. Notice the SUVs on the far right.

The surrounding neighborhoods were also severely damaged and over 3 dozen people lost their lives. The Tanzanian meteorological society said that this much rain has not been seen in over half a century and the infrastructure here is developing, to say the least. Having said that, as is the case in many disastrous situations, we have seen people give so much to help and there has been an outpouring of support from the school community.

As I mentioned in my last post, I have decided not to resign my contract here at I.S.T. for the following year, so I will be moving when school is out this June. On February 1st I will attend a job fair in Boston, MA and spend four nervous, exciting, grueling days interviewing and hopefully will make a decision then. I'm seriously contemplating large Asian cities (Shanghai, Hong Kong, Kuala Lumpur, Taipei, etc) but am also open to moving back to the states or wherever God leads me! Stay tuned for news in the next few weeks!

Photo Galleries
Istanbul
4 Day Weekend in Zanzibar

Hello Friends!

2011-10-03T16:45:00.002-04:00

Hello! I hope you haven’t forgotten about me; I’ve been quiet on the blog front but busy as a bee otherwise. I hope that this update finds you well. Things here in Dar are moving along at a steady clip. I can’t believe that it’s already October and that I’ve been teaching for two months!

After an amazing summer vacation in the states for nearly six weeks I came back and moved up a grade level to now teach 3^rd grade and enjoy it immensely. My colleagues are one of the greatest parts of my job. The new team of administrators, my fellow 3^rd grade teachers, and specialist teachers provide me with an amazing support system that is built around collaboration and mutual respect. They are a great asset to me, one which I do not take for granted.

It is these people and the students with whom I work every day that I will miss most about Tanzania. After much thought and deliberation, I have decided to leave IST at the end of this school year. Whenever I spent the summer in the states I seriously considered coming back to the U.S. but by the end of my vacation I felt like it just wasn’t quite time yet. I do love America and look forward to coming back home, but my itch to explore a bit more combined with the harsh reality of the U.S. job market and economy has swayed me from making that move at the moment.

So, “where to next?” you ask. Good question. That’s what I’d like to know too! I will be attending an international school job fair this January to hopefully get an answer to that question. I’d prefer to be in Southeast Asia but I am willing to explore other options. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I begin the arduous task of investigating many schools in the region and initializing contact.

This new school year also brought another important change. I am now a teacher and a student since I have begun working on my Master’s degree last month. The online program is offered through the University of Cincinnati and is a Master’s of Education degree in Curriculum and Instruction with a specialization in K-6 Mathematics. Those of you who have known me for many years are, like my parents, probably quite shocked that I would pursue any math courses other than those absolutely required. Math and I didn’t get along very well throughout much of my schooling. I do find it quite interesting that of all things, math is my absolute favorite thing to teach! The degree is completely online, which allows me to continue my ‘alternative lifestyle’ abroad while working on it. It is set up to be a two year program without any breaks, but I am not in a big hurry to get it done and will probably stretch it out to three years so that I can take a little time off while moving from one place and settling in the next. Working all day then coming home and doing my own schoolwork is a schedule I’m not loving, but studying something about which I truly enjoy and am so passionate about makes the busy schedule more than bearable.

I look forward to my last year eight months in Tanzania being some of the most memorable. I have many lessons still to learn about life in a developing country and the beautiful people who call it home. There are places on the Tanzanian map still left to explore, there are children to teach, and there are people to teach me. I hope that you will continue this journey with me, allowing me to share my experiences and ramble through many blog posts to come.

Opportunity of a Lifetime

2011-05-03T11:37:00.012-04:00

As an aside from the post below, here are some links to photo albums from my recent trips to Thailand, Zanzibar, and Malawi. Feel free to check them out if you're interested.

Malawi http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100363933700792.2771216.5132789&l=268ede3304

Zanzibar http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100217414900642.2747511.5132789&l=12d6ddfc4e

Thailand (2 albums) http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100169223311972.2724615.5132789&l=58f05b56cd

Thailand Part 2 http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100175082031052.2727800.5132789&l=305502cfc4

When I moved to Tanzania I planned only to stay for my initial two year contract. That time is nearly completed and the years have flown by as fast as the mosquitoes buzzing around my feet. As with all initial plans, mine got thwarted by life’s constant surprises. Africa’s adventures and lessons have changed me forever and I have not yet quenched my desire to experience what it has to offer. It is for that reason that I have resigned my contract and I will now be here until June of 2012.

Since I’ll be here for another year you have more time to come out and visit! I am looking forward with great anticipation to a trip I have scheduled for my vacation in October. I want to tell you about it because I’m inviting anyone who would be interested in joining me to come out to Tanzania and experience this marvelous adventure with me!

I’ll be doing a six day hike followed by a safari. *NOTE: This hike is NOT an intense climb! This is more closely associated with a six day stroll than six days of torture. You don’t even have to carry your own equipment! Interested so far? Read on!

Explaining the beauty of this place is difficult. After all, I’ve not yet been there. I’ve sat around countless dinner tables of friends, entranced, listening to their stories about hikes around the Ngorogoro Conservation Area. Now to describe it to you I’ll use a mixture of their descriptions, pictures, and text from my trusty Tanzania guidebooks, Lonely Planet and Rough Guide.

The spectacular 5,151 sq. mile Ngorogoro Conservation Area (NCA) occupies the volcanic highlands between the Great Rift Valley and the Serengeti Plains. It encompasses vast stretches of plains, grasslands, bush, and woodlands. The varied habitats guarantee breathtaking sighting of “the big five”- elephants, lion, leopard, rhino, and buffalo, and it teems with giraffe, zebra, wildebeest, gazelles, and other safari favorites. For animals, this place is a haven, while for tourists, it’s something close to heaven.

The rugged Crater Highlands consist of an elevated range of volcanoes and collapsed volcanoes rising up from the earth. The walk tours through Oldupai Gorge where the famous Leakey archeologists unearthed a plethora of notable fossils. You’ll also visit Olmoti Crater with its hosts of antelope species and nearby waterfalls. The stunningly beautiful Empakaai Crater is filled with a forest-fringed soda lake. The resident bushbuck, reedbuck, waterbuck, buffalos, monkeys, and flamingos call Empakaai home.

Empakaai Crater from the air

With its stunning ethereal blue-green vistas, the 12 mile wide Ngorogoro Crater is NCA’s incomparable highlight. A vast, unbroken caldera left behind when an enormous volcano collapsed, created a crater that teems with animals. The deep bluish-purplish color of the crater walls provides a spectacular backdrop to your game drive photographs. If you’ve seen Disney’s Lion King, they used Ngorogoro Crater as their inspiration for the setting.

Animals of all kinds share the Highlands with the local Maasai tribal people, who have grazing rights and are often seen herding their cattle throughout the area. The hike also crosses through their bomas, villages, and visits can be arranged.

The trip will end with a visit to Tarangire National Park for an unparalleled safari adventure. It is home to virtually every safari animal you could want to see and is also a major destination for bird-watchers.

If you’re interested in joining me on this once in a lifetime opportunity please e-mail me at cmlane1@gmail.com. I would love to have some of you visit and make lasting memories with me!

Sacrifices for Family

2011-05-01T12:56:00.000-04:00

Today I want to share an encounter I had a few weeks ago with a local man who I am blessed to call a friend. People here are much more community oriented than the average Americans. They ‘do life’ together on a whole different level, often sharing homes, food and resources out of necessity. This kind of communal mindset permeates all areas of life and sets the tone for personal and commercial climates.

One Friday evening I hired Francis, one of my two usual taxi drivers, to take me to the bank then to a friend’s house. There was a bit of traffic and I had confused the bank’s hours, so whenever we arrived it was already closed. I got back into the car and disappointingly shared the news. Without a moment’s hesitation, Francis opened his ashtray where all of his money is kept and took out a handful of bills while asking, “Sister, how much money do you need to be ok until you can come back?”

Instantaneously my frustrations slid off like a layer of dirt in a shower. I was touched that this man, who I know struggles to make ends meet on a daily basis, offered what little he had to make sure that my comparatively spoiled desires were met. Why? Because we’re family and that’s what family does for one another. I’m blessed to have these ‘family’ members here to look out for me.

Envy Understood

2011-04-20T13:59:00.003-04:00

Living in a third world country has thrust poverty and disparity into my immediate line of vision on a daily basis. Malnutrition is rampant and Tanzanians emaciated bodies are evidence of it. Meanwhile, in stark contrast we mzungus, white men, fly by them in our $30,000 Land Cruisers on our way to the yacht club for sailing lessons or to Osaka Japanese restaurant for sushi. We go to Shoppers Plaza grocery store and hand the cashier more money for our weekend goodies than she makes in a month. Our house help cook succulent meals of abundance for the family (with decadent desserts, of course) while thinking of their own children who are at home digging through the mud in hopes that the recent rains have brought the underground moths closer to the surface for easy harvesting; it is after all, a great source of protein.

Living in this kind of chronic desperation and necessity whilst coming into contact with the comparatively opulent wealth and waste of the mzungu undoubtedly leaves many Tanzanians resentful and bitter towards us. I don’t blame them either; I can’t image needing so many things and seeing it around me knowing that ‘I can look, but I can’t touch.’

Some keep their feelings hidden, smiling and doing a wonderful job for their bosses. They know they are getting paid better than many of their counterparts who are not so lucky as to score employment with an mzungu.

Others deal with feelings of anger and envy, bred of desperation, by actions of outright hostility towards the mzungu. This kind of encounter most often occurs within the context of some sort of money exchange like refusing to give a short taxi ride for a reasonable rate or charging astronomical prices for local vegetables.

My classroom assistant, Mariam, is a wonderful Tanzanian woman with whom I have become quite close since my arrival. She and I are comfortable enough to be able to talk honestly and openly about our cultures and the misunderstandings between them.

She and I were talking about this topic one day and she said that many locals who work for or with expats (foreigners) are stuck in a precarious position because they truly do admire and enjoy their mzungu friends but face these feelings of envy and anger towards them because of the inequalities.

The mzungu version of the sentiment that Mariam expressed is occasionally voiced during conversations with my friends. I admit with shame and embarrassment that it’s surprisingly easy to slip into a mode of annoyance by those Tanzanians who resort to behavior that is rude, intrusive, forceful, or hostile.

The argument for and against foreign aid is another topic for a later post, but it does affect this situation. Without getting into the details, Tanzania has been the recipient of an astronomical amount of foreign aid over the years. However well-intended this aid is, its givers have mismanaged its structure and have inadvertently helped create a society who have become accustomed to a hand out not a hand up.

I have to consistently remind myself of the fact that desperation and an immediate survival instinct for themselves and their family are causes for many actions that are deemed ‘unpleasant’ and ‘inappropriate’ in my Western mind. When I instead picture the hungry son, sick spouse, or uneducated sister at home my heart breaks and I thank God for his unending blessings to me. My continued hope and prayer is that my heart always breaks with the things that break His.

A Leisurely Jaunt Up a Little Hill

2011-02-24T20:07:00.014-05:00

As explained in my last post, my cousin Scotty came to East Africa to visit this past summer. The morning after arriving in Dar, the two of us drove up to the city of Moshi in the north of Tanzania. Scotty and I had planned a six day hike attempting to summit Mt. Kilimanjaro, which at 19,341 feet, is the highest point in Africa and the world’s tallest freestanding mountain (not within a range).

Guides are required on the mountain, so we met our guide Joseph that night and discussed all the logistics. We hired quite a staff to go up the mountain with us. Joseph was our main guide, and he brought with him one assistant guide (who would lead if one of us needed to come down), one cook, and three porters. This sounds extreme, I know, but is actually the norm for climbing a mountain of this height and difficulty.

Pole pole, meaning slowly slowly, was our mantra going up the mountain. Joseph did a superb job setting a snail’s pace as we ascended. This crawling speed allowed us to save energy and helped to offset the likelihood of altitude sickness, which is the number one reason people don’t make it to the summit.

There are four major routes up the mountain, and we took Marangu, which is the most traveled. The benefit of Marangu is that it is the shortest trail, able to be completed in six days. The route which we took does happen to have one nice advantage over the others: huts. Though I do enjoy camping, Kili has a very unreliable weather pattern and nothing sounds more miserable to me than being cold and wet, having my equipment wet, and having to continue the climb.

We hiked upwards with the excitement and anticipation that fills the stomach on the first day of any big adventure. This day was spent hiking through forest terrain. The path was one of dirt and clay under a canopy of trees and lush vegetation. After about five hours, we arrived at our first camp, which was at an elevation of 8,857 feet. Upon our arrival we entered the ‘clouds’. It was densely foggy, damp, and cold. I pulled out my base layer clothes and hat and pushed away fleeting thoughts about how much colder it would get.

Dinner consisted of similar things each night we were on the trail. We always had rice and fresh fruits accompanied by some cooked veggies, chapatti (which is like a tortilla but with much more oil), and a meaty dish with thick sauce, a bit heavier than stew.

The next morning we set off at daybreak. The first half of the day we hiked through the clouds. The terrain was beautiful, with flora that thrived in the wet, cold environment. Without warning, we finally broke through the top of the clouds and were met with a completely different scene. Gone was the moisture so thick it weighed you down; gone was the dark eeriness that conjured up images of scary movie scenes; gone was the feeling of emptiness and isolation. In its place the sun shone brightly and the blue sky spread open. Small desert-looking plants took the place of shrubs; orange and red colored rocks covered the ground in every direction.

FAR off in the distance the summit of the mountain was slightly visible. As we stopped for a lunch break I suddenly started to feel a bit ill. I had no appetite and the thought of eating made me nauseous. Seeing how far away the summit was and knowing that I was supposed to get there made the uneasiness all the more real.

We finally reached Horombo Huts which sit at 12,205 feet. I stumbled into our hut and collapsed onto the sleeping pad. My head was spinning, pulse was racing, stomach was nauseous, and all strength was gone. I hoped and prayed that this really wasn’t already altitude sickness setting in. I was only on day two of a six day excursion and still had over 7,000 feet to climb. I did NOT pay so much money just to be carried down the mountain this early. Plus, if my male cousin can do it then I can do it too!

I wanted desperately to nap but all of the information that I read about altitude sickness taught me that its effects are more potent during sleeping hours when breathing slows. Unsteadily I hoisted myself up and outside. As I walked around the camp it was impossible not to marvel at its splendor. The summit was now clearly visible, jutting majestically into the heavens. The camp sat just above the clouds, so looking out as far as I could see were the tops of puffy cotton ball clouds that reminded me of a bed just waiting to be jumped on. A short time later dinner was called. I sat at the table having a stare down with the food placed in front of me. After a long, drawn out, and unspoken battle I finally conceded and ate a bit of food, knowing that I needed to eat no matter how I felt. Of course, as soon as we walked outside I became vehemently sick, cursing the food I had just tried so hard to eat.

Day Three is meant to be a day of acclimating to the altitude in preparation for the next day’s summit. I woke up feeling horrible still but made up my mind that I’d continue. We hiked up 1,000 feet to a place called Zebra Rocks then hiked back down to our huts.

We got up on the morning of Day Four and set off. Since it was alpine desert we were hiking through, the scenery soon became dull and I struggled to refocus my thoughts. The surface was rocky and barren, windy and cold. The only thing that there was to look at was the massive mountain looming in front of me, intimidating and daring me to conquer her.

I was sick and not eating, but for the first half of the day the hike was relatively easy because the trail wasn’t at much of an incline. After lunch we started our assent up a rocky and dusty path. By this time I had expended most of my energy and I was not a happy camper. Grumpy and feeling horrible, I got in some sort of a zone where I blocked out everything around me and kept trudging up the mountain.

At 3:30 that afternoon we arrived at Kibo and were at an elevation of 15,430 feet. We were instructed to lie down and get some sleep from 4:00 p.m. until 9:30 p.m. when we would get up and begin to prepare for the summit climb. At this point Scotty started to have a headache, which is another sign of altitude sickness. We both laid down but neither of us could sleep. People were coming and going in and out of our room, talking, and making noise. I was also fearful to fall asleep because I didn’t want to become even sicker than I already was. Knowing that in just a few short hours I’d be attempting to push myself farther than I ever have before put a knot in my stomach and I do admit I was quite nervous.

After tossing and turning, growing more frustrated by the hour, 9:30 finally arrived. Scotty and I got up and they had dinner for us. This was the moment I was dreading. I knew that I had 16 straight hours of hiking ahead of me and that I would need all of the energy I could eat. I psyched myself up and ate as much as I could, hoping I wouldn’t get sick.

The plan was that we would leave our current location, Kibo, at 11:00 p.m. and make it to the summit around 6:30 a.m. We would then be back down at Kibo around 11:00 a.m. for lunch. We would eat and then descend all the way down to the huts we stayed at on the first night. This would end up being 7,135 feet up and 10,500 feet down before we got a proper night’s sleep. I can’t run a mile on flat land and think I’m going to die after just 30 minutes on the elliptical at the gym. I am a driven women when it comes to challenges of the mental realm, but when it involves physical exertion I tend to cave quite quickly. Why in the world did I think that this would be a good idea?

Joseph, our assistant guide, Scotty, and I set off at 11:00 p.m. in the blackest dark I have ever experienced. We were told that the next five hours were the most difficult of the entire trail and I did everything I could to mentally prepare myself for it. For the first little while (I had no watch and no sense of time) I did my best to focus on work. It was the one thing I could think about to distract myself from the task at hand. What went well in my classroom last year? How do I want to teach math better? How can my transition time be smoother? These were the thoughts as I lumbered up the highest point in Africa in the middle of the night.

The first five hours of the climb is up a gravely path whose steepness is so intense that instead of going straight up, it zigzags back and forth about every thirty feet. There was very little moon that night and the stars were covered by clouds. The only light given was from my headlamp. I vividly remember looking straight up and the only thing I could see were the bouncing dots of other’s headlamps so high above me that I had to look again and make sure they weren’t stars. “I have to go all the way up there?!” I thought, horrified, realizing that more of the little bit of gumption and determination left in me had just escaped. “Note to self: don’t look up!” I thought. I guess the darkness isn’t so bad; maybe I don’t want to see what’s left to come.

The next hour of the climb is but a forgotten nightmare. My mind and body were on autopilot as I lumbered up the mountain, one painstaking step at a time. Finally we got to a small cave where we were to take a four minute rest before continuing on. As soon as I stopped walking, a wave of nausea swept over me, whipping through my body like a sudden dust storm on the prairie. Yet again became violently sick. This time, however, mere vomiting was not the only way my body wanted to rebel…. I hope no one ever has to experience getting sick like that while on the side of a freezing cold mountain, with no light, and multiple layers of clothing to peel off as quickly as possible.

When I crawled back to the cave, ready to begin my four minutes of much anticipated rest, Joseph, who had somehow suddenly turned into a harsh dictator, declared that since I was back we needed to continue the trek. “What about my four minutes? The last four minutes of my life were anything but a break!” This was no longer a voluntary jaunt up a little hill; it had quickly become a death march up a mountain and I was a captive prisoner.

At 6:00 a.m. when we should have been reaching the summit we instead finally made it to Gilman’s Point, which is the marker for another hours’ hike to the summit. Having expelled all of the food from my body and depleting all of the energy I possessed, I collapsed against a rock and mumbled that I could make it no further. Our cruel, unyielding task master once again made a sudden transition this time becoming the tender, encouraging guide I had previously known him to be. Finding and opening the Cliff Bar that I had in my backpack, he handed it to me and helped me sit up. Unfortunately, I had not remembered to move the Cliff Bar into my jacket before the assent and it was frozen solid. I threw it down in disgust, wanting nothing more than to devour it.

As we took a few minutes to recuperate before moving on, I sat and watched the sun begin to rise. All of the sudden, as if the stage curtain had been lifted, I was able to see the beauty and majesty that surrounded me. We were finally on the ice cap of the mountain top, surrounded by rocks and boulders, with glaciers that caught the morning sunlight and sparkled like crystals. The horizon’s layers of reds, orange, yellow, and blue were like wisps from the artist’s brush. Clouds were far below, creating an ocean of white puffy cotton.

Seeing the beauty that enveloped us and knowing that the hardest part of the climb was over gave Scotty and I both the kick start we needed to continue our journey to the top. The hike from Gilman’s point to the summit was somewhat level and not too strenuous compared to what we had been doing. Finally I could look ahead and see Uhuru Point, the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, the point to which I had focused all of my energy for the last four days. Gone were the feelings pain, hunger, and frustration, and in their place were excitement, anticipation, and achievement. As I walked those last few hundred feet I turned on my cell phone and called my parents. Mom answered sleepily, for it was midnight in Florida. Through the ripping wind and my labored breathing I mumbled that I had made it to the summit. The connection was rather weak and we couldn’t talk for long, but hearing Mom’s excitement was enough to help me finish those last few steps to the top.

Scotty and I looked at each other and shook our heads. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe we made it” we said. The views were staggering in such a way that words cannot begin to capture. We were on top of the world, above the clouds, and looking straight into the heavens. It was 8:30 a.m. and the sun was starting to warm up the ice enough for everything to glisten in its light.

My thermometer registered the temperature at Uhuru Point -10°F plus a wind chill. I do want to put a plug in for Mountain Hardware and Patagonia, the makers of my cold weather clothes, and Keen, the manufacturer of my boots. Not once during my entire climb was my body cold except for my face and hands on occasion. Of course, the longer we stood still, the cold seeped in. The massive hike ahead of us with a descent of 10,500 feet, would take many more hours. We spent a mere 20 minutes at the top snapping some photos before turning around to make our way down the mountain.

Joseph said that the zigzag trail we came up was not the way we would go down. Instead, there was a face of the mountain that was purely sand and rocks and we would use our hiking poles to ‘sand ski’ down. Scotty had gone ahead with our assistant guide, leaving Joseph to try and convince me to dangerously slide down this dusty path. Following his instruction, I dug my heels into the sand, leaned back, and let gravity work. The problem was that I had too little energy to actually stay upright. I was deadweight and continued to fall. Occasionally there would be a large rock covered by dirt, and my boot would hit it, bringing me tumbling to the ground. I was a dusty, moody mess and could not understand why people were actually encouraged to descend the mountain this way. I finally relented and allowed Joseph to take my backpack while I leaned on him for complete support to nearly drag me down this suicide hill.

I finally arrived at Kibo, where I had rested before the assent 12 long hours before. I laid down and rested for 30 glorious minutes and tried to eat a little before continuing the journey down. Although it was a long trek, lasting another six hours, I noticed that I physically felt better with every step. By the time we arrived at camp I was dead tired but feeling good otherwise and had finally had an appetite. Once I got to lower elevations the symptoms of altitude sickness vanished more quickly than I could have imagined. After a hearty dinner Scotty and I collapsed into a comatose sleep. The next morning we only had to hike about three hours until we were off the mountain. We flew down, walking with a sense of purpose and excitement.

Day Four and Day Five had been one continuous nightmare. They were without a doubt the most physically miserable two days of my life. I felt more physical pain and emotional struggle than ever before. At the same time, a sense of accomplishment and pride filled me. As soon as we had reached the bottom I knew that all of the pain and discomfort had been worth it. I had found within the recesses of my soul, strength and stamina that I did not know I possessed. I had won the physical and mental battle put before me and had witnessed a kind of beauty only seen by few.

After my first shower in nearly a week and another good meal that night, Scotty and I slept like babies before taking a bus to Kenya early the next morning. There we met some of my friends and went on a three day safari to Masai Mara National Park, which is the Kenyan extension of the Serengeti National Park. We then went to Lake Nakuru for another day of safari before flying back to Dar.

Scotty flew home and a few short days later I started back to work, but I will never forget the moments of tears and the feeling of triumph that accompanied me on that leisurely jaunt up a little hill.

Check out the pictures!

Kili
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2609724&id=5132789&l=bd99852bec

Safari - 3 separate albums

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2615814&id=5132789&l=99aa7a89e9

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2615949&id=5132789&l=ed6792e4a9
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2614462&id=5132789&l=87ba1dd794

Getting Back To Dar

2011-01-14T11:54:00.002-05:00

I have slacked off severely in regards to updating my blog; I have actually missed writing about my experiences. So here I am again to document my stories for your reading pleasure (I hope!) and for my personal gratification. I will be backtracking quite a way and will most surely cut things short. This post is a continuation of the last, which covered the first half of my summer vacation in the Netherlands and the states. Now I’ll share my experiences from Florida back to Tanzania and everywhere in between. Having just said I’ll keep things short, I did write this section of the blog MONTHS ago, so it is a bit long. Trust me- the rest won’t be so cumbersome.

For those of you who have read my blog consistently in the past, you know that my flights to/from Tanzania have never been without a few big glitches, and this one is no exception.

Once on the tarmac in Tampa, the pilot said that there was a thunderstorm up north and since Newark and LaGuardia were closed JFK was very busy. We waited a while and by the time that we had arrived at JFK the storm had moved and the whole airport was shut down. We circled for a little under an hour before running low on fuel, so the pilot announced that we would go to Atlantic City to refuel before returning to JFK. We were drawing close to Atlantic City and beginning the initial descent when I smelled what seemed like matches that were just blown out or electrical wires that had short circuited. Simultaneously, a few people at the back of the plane said that they smelled smoke. Mild panic ensued and the flight attendants rushed up and down the aisles inspecting the overhead bins while we were instructed to check our purses and footing area for smoldering objects. The pilot just then announced that he smelled smoke in the cockpit as well and had turned off all power in the aircraft except that which was essential to land. He contacted the airport and instructed them to have fire and rescue crews ready!

This was the first time in my life that I have every truly felt like this could be the end of my Earthly existence. I began pleading panicky prayers to God and wondered if this was really happening to me. The pilot instructed us that he couldn’t get too close to the main airport terminals or other aircraft and would have to land with much less air strip. Thankfully, the smoky smell began to die down once the pilot turned off all of the power. While trying to make my mind focus on prayers and to the instructions of how to get into ‘rough landing position’, my fears subsided as our plane was drew nearer to the ground. I wanted desperately to call my family but knew that there was absolutely no way that I would put this kind of fear in them, especially if nothing ended up happening. It’s hard enough to say goodbye for a year to go back to Africa just to call a few hours later with a potential plane crash waiting to happen.

After inspecting the plane for any immediate danger, we had to be towed up to the terminal. Do you have any idea how long it takes to tow a plane all the way up a runway? Without the air conditioning? While I’m in jeans, a sweater, and snow boots I was trying to break in before a hike? Too long!

Atlantic City is not a home for my chosen airline carrier, so we had to wait until a mechanic from another airline could arrive to check the plane. Two hours later it was decided that the cause of the smoke was solely and electrical shortage and that it would not effect the continuation of our journey to JFK. It was decided that before we reboard they would turn on the engine and let things run ‘normally’ for a bit to ensure everything was set. When the attempt was made to start the engine it died and would not come to life again.

During my time waiting in the terminal of a small airport, I was frantically on the phone with my mom and every major airline carrier. I had already missed my KLM flight via Amsterdam back to Dar and the next one that they could get me out on didn’t leave JFK until three days later. Mom was checking other one-way flights online while I was calling the airlines. Nothing seemed to be available for anything less than the price of my both my arms and my legs except for one flight on Qatar Airways leaving the next night. The only problem was that the tickets weren’t available for purchase online and the ticketing office was closed until the next morning at 8:00 a.m.

The other ‘kink’ in these arrangements was that my cousin Scotty was scheduled to fly over to Dar to meet me. I was originally supposed to arrive a day before him but now the earliest flight I MAY be able to get would be the same flight he was booked on from JFK – DAR. I was hoping and praying that I could get a ticket!

Three hours later charter busses the airline had booked arrived to drive us the 3+ hours to JFK. We loaded everything up and hit the road. When we neared the city the driver got lost and we ended up literally in the middle of a neighborhood in Brooklyn at 1:00 a.m. A woman in the back of the bus said that this was her near her neighborhood and we let her off just a block away! ‘This absolutely cannot be happening!’ I thought. ‘Could this day get any crazier?!’ With the directional assistance of our departing passenger, we finally arrived at JFK a half hour later.

All airport hotels were booked when I arrived at 1:00 a.m. and I couldn’t justify going into the city just to be back at the airline office by its opening at 8:00 a.m. so I made a little home for myself between a vending machine and a wall and tried to sleep. At 8:00 a.m. I successfully purchased a ticket for 11:50 that night then promptly found the nearest hotel with a vacancy and took a long overdue nap.

Later that night Scotty met me at the airport and we boarded the plane for DAR via Doha, Qatar, which boarders Saudi Arabia. We had a 12 hour layover in the middle of the night. Both of us had been sleeping on the plane so we rented a car and drove all over Doha that night. There wasn’t much happening at the late hour but at least it got us out of an airport!

While I was away over the summer construction was being done on my house to install a new roof and replace my kitchen cabinets. When we arrived at my apartment we found that the ceiling was done but that the kitchen was still under construction, everything in my house was still packed in my bedroom (which was the only room not being remodeled), and that THOUSANDS of mosquitoes had inhabited my house because someone had taken the screens out of my open windows. What an awesome welcome home! After a major temper tantrum and some breathing exercises I did my best to sift through my things and find all the gear I’d need for the safari and climb I was leaving for the next morning. My cousin and I stayed in a vacant apartment that night that had no power or running water. Welcome to Africa, Scotty! =)

Victoria Falls

2010-07-31T06:45:00.006-04:00

Hello! I apologize for not updating this blog in a long time. It won’t be so long a wait until the next installment. Please e-mail me and complain if it is; get me writing! The following update is from a trip I took in April to Zambia. I have since finished the school year and then went to the Netherlands for 5 days. After that I went back to the states for 3 weeks then came back to Tanzania with my cousin and hiked Mount Kilimanjaro followed by safari in Kenya. Those stories and pictures will come soon! Enjoy this adventure; I sure did!

April Break

Wednesday, March 31^st8:00 a.m. – I get a head cold. Just great! Now I can’t go diving in Zanzibar on Friday like planned. Now what will I do for Easter break?!

At lunch the same day: I have always wanted to see Victoria Falls. Flights are expensive, but I could take the bus; it’s only a 30 hour ride. It would save me a lot of money too. Wait. 30 hours? I’ll need a few books….

5:00 p.m: ok, that bus line is no longer in service. Fantastic. What now? I’m still moody because all I want to do is dive. Flights are around $700.00 so that’s out. The train takes is less reliable than our government and that’s saying something…. oh heck, maybe I should just go to Lushoto which is a few hours north and do some hiking. But it is rainy season. That could be bad.

7:00 p.m: I found a one way flight from Lusaka, Zambia to Dar for less than $200.00. I wonder if I could take the train there and fly back. This train sounds pretty sketchy though….am I comfortable traveling somewhere alone? Oh yeah, I’ve never solo traveled before. Well, they speak English as a national language in Zambia so that’s good. And I do live in Africa, so it’s not going to be so new. hmmm…ok, now I just need to try and get a train ticket.

Thursday, April 1^st 10:00 a.m. – I’ve got to work all day so I asked my friend Tema if she knows of anyone who can go to the train station to get my ticket. She sends someone and a few hours later I’ve got the train ticket in hand. Wow—this is really happening! I leave tomorrow! Now I just need to get home and buy that plane ticket.

3:00 p.m. – WHY is our internet out now of all times?! I can’t buy the plane ticket over the phone either. Ok, I’ll keep trying this afternoon; I’m sure the internet will come back soon.

10:00 p.m. – bedtime. I’m not yet packed either because I don’t know what the weather will be like. Still no internet. I don’t leave until noon, so I hope it’s back on in the morning. I can’t leave without first securing a plane ticket back. It is, after all, it’s the only plane that leaves from there to Dar in four days, so if I don’t get it I’ll be stuck.

Friday, April 2^nd 7:00 a.m. – I opened the front door and found a cross created from a palm frond from a friend. What a perfect time to pause and reflect on the ultimate gift that is Palm Sunday.

8:00 a.m. – Still no internet. Ok, time for my emergency action plan. I called Mom and woke her up. She got on the internet and I walked her through buying the ticket for me….and checking the weather. Thanks Momma for coming to the rescue again! This is the first she has heard of the trip and knows I’m traveling alone too. Yeah, like she can go back to sleep peacefully now! A few hours later she called me back with other stuff she found when researching. Oh man, I should have maybe called Sis, at least then Momma would have gotten a full night’s sleep!

1:00 p.m.- The cab dropped me at the train station, which was a building of absolute chaos. Terror struck me when I saw the throngs of people trying to get into the station. Why did I come by myself? Someone is SO going to mug me right now. Deo (cabbie), don’t leave me! He came to my rescue for probably the 100^th time since I’ve lived in Dar; he got out of the car and pushed me through the masses to the front of the line and into the station. As I wandered slowly through the large, filled station in an attempt to find out where I was to go, I got that sense of being under a microscope, that feeling that accompanies me often here. I looked around and could tell that I had the unfortunate pleasure of being the object of all 500 people’s attention. I knew I was a bit lost and they did too, quite amusingly I believe. Finally, a few soles pointed me in the right direction, then a few more pointed me to doors for a room who’s sign read ‘First Class Waiting Area’. Ah yes, I’m so easily figured out here. As I sat in the waiting area, the Jesus film was being played on the television. I got to enjoy my own personal Palm Sunday service in a train station waiting area in Tanzania; He truly is the God of all people and places!

The train departed at 2:00 for it’s LONG journey to Kapiri Mposhi, Zambia. I’m supposed to arrive on Sunday night, but we’ll see; I have high doubt. I shared a cabin with 3 people; 2 Yugoslavians who were living in Nairobi and a South African woman traveling on holiday. They seem to be lovely travel companions and I say a quick word of thanks to God that they are clean, have no children, rancid odors, stinky food (so far), or animals with them. Ok, maybe this won’t be so bad!

The cabin is small but cleanish; my standards for cleanliness have certainly changed since living in Africa. I pretend not to notice all of the little cockroaches scurrying about. I am quite glad I brought my own pillow and sleep sack as those provided me are looking quite questionable. Picture this--- never washed hotel quilts on a train in 100 degree heat with people using them day in and day out as they travel. Yeah, thoroughly grossed out yet? Me too. After short introductions, my travel companions were ready to hit up the train car that had the bar. After reassuring them that no, I really didn’t want to go even though we could get someone to lock our cabin door, they left and a sense of calm and tranquility finally washed over me. I had been so stressed out the last few days and now I was finally here. It was happening and I was filled with anticipation about the mysteries that lied ahead.

Experience living and traveling in developing countries has taught me a few big lessons of travel. 1) wipes are essential 2) always bring plenty of toilet paper 3) bring enough food for a couple of days; sometimes you can’t find [edible] food (yes, this one I had to learn the hard way) 4) have plenty of reading material; things move slower in these places. Being fully equipped, I began what ended up being the most relaxing 56 hours of my entire life; I have NEVER been so sedentary! I literally got up to go to the bar for some water once, to the bathroom, and to the dining car for one meal (which by the way was the best fried chicken I’ve ever had—I don’t want to know how old the grease was!). Other than that, I stayed either sitting or lying on my bench in the cabin. It was amazing! I caught up on all of the sleep I’d been lacking and read 3 novels, not to mention enjoyed some breathtaking scenery!

The cabin had a large window that was held open by a large stick…to begin with. About half way through the journey I leaned out of the window to take a scenic look, subsequently knocking the stick out. The one ton pane of glass fell with the force of a charging elephant, landing precisely in the middle of my neck. Hearing the cracking sound and feeling the instantaneous pain made me wonder what detrimental, if not permanent damage I had done to my already problematic neck.

With my head and arms hanging out the window and the rest of my body inside and on top of the table on which I had been laying I was completely stuck. I flailed my arms and legs like a fish out of water, attempting to get out of this compromising position. My arms could not reach backwards to lift up the window and it was too heavy to lift with my neck, which was throbbing. After a brief moment of self-composure, I did what anyone in this position would do: I yelled for help! Hearing my desperate pleas, the passenger in the neighboring berth poked his head out of his window to investigate. Seeing the predicament I was in made his eyes protrude and face scrunch up in horror. He heroically came to my rescue and walked inside to open the window, thus freeing me from my makeshift guillotine. I think the man assumed I was a walking disaster; he escaped back to his berth nearly before I could mutter an embarrassing thank you. Taking no chances on prolonged future pain, I popped a couple muscle relaxants and a handful of pain relievers then took yet another nap. This did indeed help the side effects, but the massive bruise that covered the back of my neck was quite a battle scar.

My car was second to last of the entire train. This train had been built sometime in what seemed to be the 1950s and hadn’t been maintained since then. The amount of sheer bounce where cars were connected bordered on amusement park status; I didn’t know this ride came with my ticket purchase. Walking from one car to another was tricky business; one had to stand at the edge, waiting for just the right moment to take the running leap across the great divide that separated your safety from complete annihilation. As it were, the bathroom was situated right at this junction, so my second ‘adventure’ of this trip commenced during these trips.

Imagine a room not much larger than an airplane bathroom, but instead of having a proper toilet, it’s a 50 year old metal pot with a hole down to the tracks. Even more, there is no toilet paper (thank God for mine), but instead a 5 gallon bucket is half filled with water (the other half is all over the floor) and a plastic cup. In addition, the amount of bounce and shake is so strong that your leg muscles are in constant contraction. Any moment you know you’re going to slip and fall into the ‘toilet’ hole as many before you have obviously done. And something to hold on to? one wall—not even a place for both hands. Needless to say, I would have rather had a tree.

The train track was elevated slightly above the tree line, so most of the views were looking down onto the trees and out into the countryside. The recent rains brought plants to life; the sweeping panorama glistened in tones of green like emeralds in a jeweler’s display. The newness of life and the signs of spring encouraged internal contemplation of my rebirth through Christ; what a wonderful Easter weekend it was! The sporadic rain coupled with the mountain altitude left a chill in the air that was required me to pull out a jacket and scarf—what a treat!

The track traveled through a national park for a couple of hours. Here the scenery changed a bit; there were no large, faraway scenes. These were more intimate, an intrusive journey through the habitat of the local safari animals. The giraffes, zebra, gazelles, antelopes, and warthogs paid no attention as the train trudged through their back yard. It was an exciting reality check as to where I am when I get out of the city and see safari animals out the train window! The handiwork and creativity of THE creator leaves me in awe! Be sure to check out my pictures (Out the Train Window link below) to see just a glimpse of the beauty!

On afternoon as we were traveling through an especially scenic area I pulled myself away from my ‘cave’ and ventured to the drink/snack car; its full sized windows on both sides allowed for optimal viewing. The potentially blissful enjoyment was unfortunately ruined by the horrendous intrusion of American hip-hop music videos on the two televisions. What a horrid juxtaposition of natural beauty and man-made art form. As I sat back and observed the Tanzanian travelers watching these music videos, it made me wonder what kind of opinions Tanzanians and Africans in general have toward the American gangster, rapper lifestyle that they see on tv. Although they know nothing of him, Tanzanians are huge fans of Obama; they see him a representation of themselves, as an African making it in the white man’s world. I wonder if they have the same sense of respectful admiration for the likes of Usher, Beyonce, and P-Diddy. Hmmm….I need to think about who I can speak with to get an answer to this one…

On Saturday night, after about 30 hours of travel, the train arrived in Mbeya, which is the half way point and is the border city of Tanzania and Zambia. It was here that I bid farewell to my traveling companions and was left as the sole occupant of my berth. As a cleaner came in to collect their trash, etc. I began chatting with her. After mentioning that I was a teacher and live in Dar es Salaam, I asked if it would be possible not to have any other occupants in the berth for the remainder of the journey. She kindly agreed, and left me to enjoy the remaining 26 hours of travel in complete, blissful isolation.

During one of my quick jaunts down the corridors to stretch my legs I met a young Swiss man named Alexander. As we chatted, we learned that he and I had the exact itinerary for the next few days. He was also traveling alone, so we decided to strike up a traveling partnership for the next leg of our journey.

At 8:00 that evening we arrived in the small town of Kapiri Mposhi, which is 125 miles north of the Zambian capital of Lusaka. This out of the way area is where the train line virtually ends and a bus is taken for the remainder of the journey. The guidebook described this city as one not to stay overnight at unless no other option is available; its squalor conditions and pay by the hour hotels are not popular with tourists. After jumping off of the train, Alexander and I ventured to the neighboring bus stand to look for the next bus to Lusaka. When I say ‘bus’, I mean dala dala public transport minibus. Please read my last post to fully get the idea of a dala dala, a 4-wheeled death trap. Long story short, we got on and waited for 80 minutes while they packed and repacked this bus in order to fill it to maximum capacity. Alexander was scrunched up against a window and I was pushed against him. A large man was on my other side, holding a baby. There was no room for my large hiking backpack on the ground since everyone else also had luggage and there was no way I was going to oblige and let them tie it to the roof. The only other alternative was on my lap, where the huge thing rested for the duration of the drive. By 9:30 p.m. we were finally getting underway for what should have been a short 3 hour journey.

After sleeping and lounging around all day, I don’t know how I was tired, but thank God I was. With my ipod conspicuously hiding under my jacket, earbuds in, and eye mask on, I drifted to sleep. Africa has forced a change in my old fickle sleeping habits! A short time later I was jolted awake by the harsh bouncing that accompanies a dala dala with no shocks as it recoils against deep ruts in an unpaved road. The vehicle stopped and I heard a door open and close, and a few minutes later we were on our way again. I didn’t consider anything to be amiss, but assumed there was some sort of passenger exchange. Soon it happened again…and again…and again… What on earth was going on? Finally I awakened enough to figure out what was happening: our driver was sick. We would drive for ten-twenty minutes until he had to abruptly pull off the road, throw his door open, and run out to get sick in nearby bushes. This happened the entire way to Lusaka. Finally, nearly 6 hours later we arrived.

Neither Alexander nor I had made reservations at a place to stay, but we had looked at the guidebook earlier and picked a hostel that sounded promising. After catching a cab and arriving, I settled into the dorm room for another solid 4 hours of sleep.

I spent the following day exploring Lusaka. I did a bit of shopping, walking around the market area, and visiting the history museum. The city is quite large but it felt like a ghost town compared to Dar. The streets were not clogged with traffic and its sidewalks were not packs with throngs of people. One thing that Lusaka has that Dar does not is good-quality beef. I followed the recommendation of a friend who used to live there and visited a steakhouse for a wonderful grilled steak dinner. It is these little treats that make traveling especially exciting!

The next morning I boarded a 6:00 a.m. bus south to the town of Livingstone, home of Victoria Falls. I arrived around lunch time and checked into Jollyboys Backpacking Hostel. What a luxurious ‘backpackers’ paradise! With accommodations ranging from a bed in a 16 person dorm room up to a 2 person bungalow, they had something to fit all ranges of budget travelers. This quiet, exotic styled sanctuary portrayed a kind of peaceful, relaxing beauty that I have never before experienced at a budget accomodation. Check out the pictures in the album Victoria Falls to see it. Before this trip I had never actually spent much time at the places I stay. They are usually nothing comfortable or nice but instead are merely a cleanish place to lay my head. For the first time in my traveling experiences, I gladly spent quite a bit of time where I was staying; this was by far the most relaxing trip I have ever taken. I enjoyed afternoons swinging in a hammock by the pool, reading a good book on cushions in the garden, or socializing and dining with new friends. Three of these new acquaintances later came to Dar, and I was able to help get them acclimated to the city and even provided lodging to two of the girls.

April is the rainy season and the Zambezi River’s water depth reaches a yearly high. The fall is just over a mile wide and its height is a 354 foot drop (Niagara is190 foot cascade). The average volume of water pouring over is 2,641,721 gallons/second (Niagara is 1,801,174).

The statistics are indeed staggering but like anything else, it is possible to have too much of a good thing. When water falls at such a high level it creates so much mist that the view of the waterfall itself is quite restricted. Only a few areas offered views that allowed me to see a fraction of the beauty and overwhelming power of the falls. Being so wide, there was no viewpoint at which I could stand and get the full visual effect. A waterfall, however, can offer what many other things in nature cannot: nearly complete sensory stimulation. The sight of the water, mist, river, and surrounding nature is obvious. Its noise is ferocious. Upon his exploration of the area, Dr. David Livingston referred to the falls as “The smoke that thunders”. The smell of fresh river water permeates the air. The feel of the river was the most exhilarating and intense.

I designated my first visit to the falls as the ‘wet day’. There is a gorge that runs perpendicular to the waterfall with a footbridge that connects the two sides. The footbridge is close to the waterfall. The spray caused by the water crashing over 300 feet below envelopes the entire area, rising up and creating a moist cloud over the drop off. The bridge is directly in the midst of the ‘splash zone’, and crossing it means becoming completely drenched. What fun!

Having known that getting wet was an option, I came on this trip prepared with the essential flip flops, full poncho, plastic bags to protect my things, and a waterproof camera. After getting geared up I set off to ‘get a feel for’ the waterfall (see pictures of Victoria Falls). I am still amazed by the strength of the water; it felt like being in a hurricane with water drilling into me from nearly horizontal angles. I wish you could have experienced it with me; I ‘mist’ you! It was a ‘mistical’ place! Okay, enough with my mist jokes…. Being alone on the bridge with water pelting me, hearing the pounding of the crashes, and feeling the vibrations in the wood gave me a sense of utter smallness and insignificance. I was raptured by it, allowed to be let in on the secret, and enveloped by its power. I could stretch out my arms and yell while still being nothing in comparison, lost in the smoke and thunder.

I went on one hike to the gorge on the opposite side of the falls to explore the surrounding vegetation and geology. Another path took me down to the bottom of the gorge where water from the fall flowed into the river. The big bridge seen in my pictures is the crossing point into Zimbabwe. It is also the platform for bungee jumpers. A third hike ran alongside the river and allowed for great views of the river’s vegetation and extreme currents.

The abundance of baboons completed this idyllic picture of paradise. Their lack of inhibition around humans was both worrisome and captivating. The click of a camera did not seem to bother them in the least, and I loved observing them.

As I explained earlier, there is no where to stand that a complete view of the falls can be seen. There is, however, one place that does offer amazing views: from above. The best decision I made on this trip was to take a microflight ride above the falls and the surrounding area. As you can see in the picture, the flying contraption was quite small. I couldn’t take a camera because of the risks associated with the open propeller and potentially dropped objects. The plane had digital cameras attached to the wings and every time that the pilot pushed a button on his handle bars (like a bike’s) the cameras took pictures (See Microflight pictures, link below). At the beginning of this 15 minute ride the pilot and I took off and headed a short distance for the falls. On the way, we saw two giraffes walking in the middle of the paved road (the area on both the Zambia and Zimbabwe sides of the river are protected parks). There was a microphone headset inside of my helmet, which allowed the pilot to narrate the trip. We flew over the zigzagged gorges with the river roaring at the bottom as he explained the geological history of the rock formations and the movement of the river and subsequent waterfall. Flying above the waterfall was one of the most exhilarating feelings of my life. When we went through the middle of the mist it was cold and the river water’s smell made a lasting impression in my memory. The speed at which the mist was rising upwards from the river created a turbulent force and the pilot had to focus on keeping the plane flying straight and steady. How invigorating!

I spent my last afternoon in Livingstone town. There is an informative museum about Dr. Livingstone’s journey through Africa and some Zambian history. I went to a small local market where I purchased some beautiful fabrics and learned about the tobacco industry from a lady selling it. I found the locals to be extremely kind and welcoming. They weren’t hustlers, forcing the tourists to buy their goods, and most spoke great English since it is the nation’s official language.

Later that night I took the bus ride back to Lusaka and was dropped at the airport, where I waited a few hours until my flight. A few hours later I was back at my apartment in Dar, relaxed and rejuvenated, ready for the last 6 weeks of school.

I hope you’ve been entertained by my travel stories. I’d love to hear your comments! Here are instructions for leaving a comment:

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Enjoy the pictures and friend me on Facebook if we’re not yet!

Out the Train Window

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2561106&id=5132789&l=d633c57c6f

Victoria Falls

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2561114&id=5132789&l=914dee43c6

Microflight

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2564268&id=5132789&l=3aca1a7ab7

Happy Spring!

2010-04-11T14:27:00.005-04:00

I hear nice weather has finally arrived; this is my favorite time of year in Florida and I wish I could be there to enjoy it. The rainy season has finally arrived here though and brought nice cooler weather with it. It’s in the mid 80s without torturous humidity. With the cooler weather comes millions of mosquitoes but bring it on….my 100% deet will keep them away. It will also eat through my clothes and give me cancer but hey, at least I won’t get malaria this month!

In February myself and three friends ventured to the Usambara Mountains in the northern part of the country in order to escape the heat. The enjoyable six hour car ride allowed me to see Tanzanian countryside that I hadn’t yet experienced. The mountains were beautiful; the air was cool and lacked the crippling humidity that was present in Dar. There had recently been rain, so the vegetation was green and lush and the air was silent but for the birds chirping in the distance. We stayed the first night at a Swiss run farm on the outskirts of town. The man who ran it did so with exact Swiss efficiency that hadn’t waned in the last 30 years that he has lived in Tanzania. The chalet in which we stayed was beautifully decorated with wooden Alpine furniture and a fireplace and was impeccably clean (a treat here in Tz). The food was amazing and the views rejuvenated the soul.

Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication about price and after some quick money pooling and calculations, we realized that we did not collectively bring enough money to stay for two more nights. With happy stomachs and sad hearts we set out down the mountain to the town in the valley and found accommodations at a Lutheran hostel. This was ¼ of the price of the last place and most certainly was not Swiss. The cleanliness was questionable, the toilet ran the entire time we were there, water from the shower was considered a luxury and therefore could not be counted on, and when it was working it smelled like a stagnant pond with decaying animals. I began to wonder if I would get a bacterial infection through my pores. Thank God for Wet Ones- the Wal-Mart wipes that are good for cleaning everything from your apple to your body!

We spent a day and a half led by our amazing guide, Kelvin, hiking through the Usambaras learning about its history, local plant uses, and insight into the life of the villagers who call the mountains their home. A huge majority of the local Tanzanian produce is grown in these mountains. As we walked through corn fields, carrot farms, and pear orchards is was sobering to see people who were obviously lacking nutritional stability and needed these crops but were forced to sell them to hotels and restaurants in the big cities in order to make a living.

Some points in the hike were steep uphill climbs. I wheezed and grumbled under my breath during these arduous moments as I clambered up the mountain cursing the Snickers bar I ate the day before (and the day before that too). As fate would have it, these instances were exacerbated by the sudden appearance of four or six small children, all under the age of twelve, who, while balancing baskets laden with fruit or cloth, would scamper past me, oblivious to the sheer physical exhaustion I was suffering. Every one of them did the same thing: they would pass me and then turn around to wave and smile as if to say “So long, sucker” before continuing on their journeys undaunted. The little brats—hadn’t their parents taught them not to brag?!

The momentary bodily exhaustion was given some relief, however, during other parts of the hike. The scenery was breathtaking; with hills and valleys that seemed to sing their own beauty and praise their creator. Every hour we would walk through a small mountain village of no more than fifty people. The children were always the first to detect our arrival and would run to the center of the dwellings to announce our entry. They lined up giving out high fives as if to say “Glad you FINALLY made it up that little ole' hill we saw you on three hours ago!”

I absolutely adored our base town of Lushoto and look forward to venturing to the mountains again. Next time Kelvin, our guide, said he would accompany me on a multi-day hike through the mountains and we could stay in the villages where I can learn all about the daily lives of the people who live there. I’m looking forward to my next visit!

I want to make a quick shift and share one of my favorite things about Tanzanian people: their true compassion and anguish when someone is ill. When a Tanzanian learns that I am not feeling well, he or she will immediately cease all other activity, look me in the eye with a grieving face and say “ pole sana” which roughly translates to “I’m very sorry.” It’s startling different than it is in the states because I know that they truly are incredibly sorry, almost painfully so, even if they don’t know you. I appreciate the care and concern that even strangers have for each others in regards to ones health and well-being. And now for the complaint…

Growing up in Florida where sandals are worn nearly year around has made me accustom to people not picking up their feet when they walk. Nevertheless, it always has been and will continue to be one of my biggest pet peeves. It drives me crazy when I hear the constant shuffle as one walks around. I want to use my ‘teacher voice’ and sternly yell ‘PICK UP YOUR FEET!’ as my eyes widen faces grimaces. I never would have believed it could get any worse but I am now here to tell you: it can and it has. People here are masters of the Tanzanian Shuffle. Everywhere you go the sound of shuffling feet blasts at you from all directions. The other day I was walking down a road and a half dozen people were 200 feet away but walking towards me. Their collective feet dragging made it sound as if a gigantic street cleaner was sweeping the roads. I wish it were--then it could sweep them away!

I had originally planned on buying a car but once I arrived and witnessed first hand the ungodly amount of traffic on the small, underdeveloped streets I decided it would usually be faster just to walk. This has proven to be true. I also have neighbors with cars and can get a ride with them at times. When I do need to get somewhere myself I can call a Tanzanian man named Deo any hour of the day or night and he will come and give me a lift- he’s a sort of unofficial taxi driver. He has also filled in as my body guard, translator, errand runner, and shopping expert at times.

If I do want to go somewhere by myself and I’m in no hurry to get there and don’t care if I arrive smelly and disheveled (if I'm so lucky as to arrive at all), I will take one of the Tanzanian ‘delights’ known as the dala dala. These minibuses have seats for about 16-18 people, however the seat counts mean nothing here. I think that there is a secret competition amongst its travelers to see how many people (and sometimes animals) we can get into the bus. The highest counts I have so far experienced has been 25 plus 2 goats, produce headed for the market, and the 3 cardboard boxes filled with everything from cd cases to fire extinguishers. Some ride that was! The toll collectors for each bus stand at the door and are called ‘mpigadebe’ which literally translates to ‘a person who hits a debe’ (a 4 gallon container used for transporting gasoline). This title was given because of their habit of keeping the door open and hanging themselves out while hitting the roof and side of the van to attract customers and also to signal to the driver that passengers are at least nearly aboard and the journey can commence.

The cargo is stuffed between legs, under chairs, on top of laps, rested atop heads, or any other place it can manage. People are sitting, standing, and sometimes even lying across others (I’ve seen it done- no lie!). I once was at a stop and when the dala dala approached it seemed to be bursting at its seams. Rule number one for the mpigadebe though is NEVER to turn away a passenger. After 30 seconds of all passengers inhaling and throwing arms and any other movable object out the window, a spot big enough for me to stand in was created—I just had to remember not to exhale too strongly! Actually, I shouldn’t inhale more than I have to either. Living in a place with heat like Florida in July amongst residence who do not bathe regularly, have only 1 outfit that is not often washed, and do not use hygiene products makes for a clash of smells that reminds me of a porto potty, meat packing plant, men’s locker room, fish market, rotten eggs, and a garbage can all clashed together.

The way that these busses roar through the streets is another unbelievable feat all together. The drivers have more road rage than any testosterone-driven man on a Hollywood car chase scene. I think they truly become the devil reincarnate, out to get as many casualties as they can. As they rumble down the roads at speeds not conducive to balancing the dozens of passengers they weave unyieldingly in and out of every unweavable spot; running off the road as many vehicles and pedestrians as possible. It does not help the situation when, across the front or back window, they display names such as ‘Titanic’, ‘One More Try’, and ‘Allah Help Us’. If you come and visit me I will surely take you on one of these memorable adventures; it’s something you’ve got to do once in your life. I still don’t know why I even dare riding on these things. Near, far, wherever you are, know this: if I continue riding on the ‘Titanic’, I believe that my heart will not go on….

Sometimes people try to jump on or off while the dala dala is moving through traffic. Here the police man sits and watches.

Well, that’s enough writing for me tonight. I started this blog a few weeks ago and then got caught up with work and forgot about it until yesterday. Since I started writing this post I have actually spent a week in Zambia for my Spring Break. My next blog update will tell you all about it and will finally include some pictures of my house and classroom! In the meantime, use the link below to explore pictures I posted on Facebook from my trip to the mountains that I talked about earlier. I’ve also posted 5 pictures of Mount Kilimanjaro as seen from my airplane window. I can’t wait for my attempt to summit it in July! As always, I hope that you have enjoyed reading and would LOVE to get feedback from you either through a post comment or e-mail!

Mountains:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2540529&id=5132789&l=c5e3583225

Kilimanjaro:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2546829&id=5132789&l=34f3f386f5

Happy New Year!

2010-01-30T15:41:00.003-05:00

Happy New Year! I hope that you had a wonderful holiday season with those closest to you. I had the good fortune to go home over Christmas break. Well, I say ‘good’ fortune; it was good once I finally arrived in Florida. I arrived in NYC amidst all of the snowstorms and weather chaos. My flight to Florida was cancelled and I couldn’t find another flight out on any airline for days. At this time I was also reminded of the miracle we call cell phones. I didn’t have one and it made things a nightmare. Do you realize how difficult it is to find working pay phones anymore?! After waiting in hours of lines and calling airports all around New York and New Jersey, I opted to take the ‘adventurous’ route and drive to my aunt’s house in Virginia, where I would take a plane to Tampa the next day. I rented the only car that was still available and hit the road, oddly content as at least I was in the country and didn’t have a language barrier to hurdle amidst it all! Jet lagged and exhausted, I set out. As I navigated my way out of the city I began reviewing the precautionary steps when driving in ice and snow. If you hit ice and spin do you turn with the car or against it? Do you brake or not? I admit I’ve never actually driven in cold weather before, so these questions were a bit daunting. I decided to compare the ice to still water on the road during a Florida storm. Seems logical, right?!

Banks of freshly fallen snow covering cars up to their roofs and icicles hanging from bare tree branches provided beautiful scenery as I drove. As the sun set, the hues of orange and yellow that danced across the sky were reflected in the white snow, making it shine like jewels. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of peace and tranquility. The silence brought by winter allowed me to see that in the midst of my travel exhaustion and frustrations God makes himself known. He provided a way for me to get home and made it a stunning ride as well.

After 19 hours of flying, 6 hours of airport lines, and 10 hours of driving I finally arrived at my Aunt Sharon’s. I think I actually cheered a little as I drove into her driveway. The drive brought another blessing in disguise, which was being able to visit some family I wouldn’t otherwise have seen over Christmas. Martin family, thank you for welcoming in my smelly, exhausted, and pathetic looking self that night!

I flew out of Newport News the next afternoon and finally arrived in Tampa. The unusually cold Florida weather caught me by surprise, though it was a welcome change from the heat that I had escaped. The next two weeks were spent in the wonderful company of family and friends. I apologize for not seeing many of you; the downside to such a short trip is that there is never enough time to see everyone.

While I was in Venice I was plagued with the same feeling that accompanied me when I used to go home from college and visit: although I love being with my family and around everything that is comforting and known, I didn’t feel as though I completely belong in Venice. It is a safe place, rejuvenating to the mind and heart, but not one in which I can function for an indefinite amount of time. I visited Orlando, where I lived the last four years, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like home either and neither does Dar now. For the first time in my life, I’m struggling with this definition of ‘home’. If ‘home’ is where you do life then that’s Dar, but if home is where the heart is, then I’m not sure where that is. A piece of my heart is in Venice with my family and old friends and a piece of it is in Orlando with my friends and college memories. Dar is where I do life. It’s a great career move. It teaches me valuable life lessons and provides me with experiences unequivocal to those I could get in the states, but it is not where my heart is. I do not regret moving here (okay- I do curse moving here when I have no power and water!), but I have not yet made those connections with people that would make this ‘home’. And that’s what home is to me I suppose: doing life in a place where you have strong relationships with those around you. I know that relationships with people you have only recently met take time; I am getting to know some wonderful people here. Who knows, I may call this ‘home’ by the time I eventually leave, but right now I’m stuck in a rut of not quite being content with where I am but also not knowing where else I’d want to go. Am I dealing with ‘homesickness’ or searching for ‘home’? I’m not sure, but I’m struggling with it more now that I’m back from the states than I was when I first arrived. While Dar isn’t terrible, it is not on my list of favorite places in terms of ease and enjoyable living. These frustrations associated with living in a developing country don’t help my feeling of being unsettled. Okay, enough of my moaning. I am blessed with so much and I know that where there is emptiness in my soul my Lord will fill it. In this promise I will press on, focusing on the good around me.

One of those ‘good’ moments came in the form of a trip to the United Arab Emirates (UAE). My Dar to USA flight was through Emirates airline and all trips go through Dubai. When booking my ticket, it didn’t cost any extra money to make the connection into an extended layover. Robin, my teacher friend who also accompanied me to Egypt, flew to the states with me. We met back in NYC at the end of our trip and flew to UAE to spend 4 nights and 3 full days. Dubai has been in the news lately because it’s the state of the art modern city that would have gone bankrupt without the bailout from their neighboring emirate (state) Abu Dhabi. Dubai has also recently been the subject of media attention because the week we were there it opened what is now the world’s tallest building, the Burj Dubai (Dubai Tower).

The Burj Dubai reaches an astounding 2,717 feet and has 160 floors which are comprised of office spaces, residential apartment for $4,000/sq ft., a mosque, and the world’s highest hotel, the Armani hotel. After purchasing a $30.00 ticket to the world’s tallest observation deck on the 124th floor, Robin and I eventually got to the front of the line and stepped into the fastest elevator in the world, which reached 40 m.p.h. The management team of this building definitely ensured that everything about this building was over the top. The elevator ride was better than many amusement rides. Aside from not being able to actually feel the movement of the elevator at all or any corresponding ear popping, the inside of the elevator was dark. Its walls were black and had small blue lights behind glass designs shaped like the building layout flush to the walls. There was also a flat screen tv built into each wall. As you rose, the tvs rolled with scenes of sky and clouds taken from the perspective of being in them. The lights on the walls illuminated rising up again and again in a staggered pattern so that, in conjunction with the tv and the airy music from the speakers above, made you feel as though you really were rising up. The view at the top was stunning, making the stomach a bit queasy when looking straight down. In keeping with Dubai’s constant effort to be the biggest and the best in everything possible, its commitment to cleanliness certainly is incredible. Nowhere did I ever see liter or any signs of neglect. Even around the mall they had people walking around erasing scuff marks from people’s shoes!

Dubai can be described as Disney World meets Las Vegas in its presentation. It is its own fantasy world, catering to any desire, pushing the boundaries of prosperity, amazing its observer with futuristic concepts and innovations, offering an over abundance of choices, and costing a small fortune! The blending of an Islamic country and Western culture creates an interesting feel to the city. Scenes such as a burqa-clad woman next to another in tight jeans and a halter top left me with the sense that the city really has no identity as its own but rather adopts cultures and customs of all of its visitors. The idea that women in Dubai have so many more freedoms than do women in other Middle Eastern cultures, especially that of its neighbor Saudi Arabia, left me all the more baffled and confused by the line between Islamic expectations and Middle Eastern culture.

This fascination with the Middle East that I had acquired since moving to Tanzania and then even more since visiting Egypt fueled by desire to buy multiple topic oriented books from a bookstore in the Dubai Mall, the world’s largest mall-of course! The book I’m currently reading, The Middle East: A Brief History of the Last 2,000 Years (by Bernard Lewis), “…charts the history of the Middle East…from the birth of Christianity through the modern era, focusing on the successive transformations that have shaped it.” I’m not yet a quarter of the way through it but so far it’s an amazing read.

Robin and I spent two whole days in Dubai visiting malls (with aquariums, ice skating rinks, and ski slopes inside!), walking through the gold market in the historic neighborhood, visiting mosques, and trying our best to figure out this over the top concept of Dubai. On our last full day we rented a car early in the morning and took a twelve hour road trip around other emirates (states) in the country. We drove through the Hatta Mountains and the desert sand dunes, along the UAE-Oman border and the Gulf of Oman. The scenery was beautiful and the drive enjoyable.

Looking back on my brief visit to UAE, I deduce that I am glad that I went, especially since the airline didn’t charge me extra. I was able to experience some amazing concepts and designs as well as adding more fuel to the fire of my fascination with the Middle East. Having said that comparing it to all of the other places I have been, I would not recommend a visit for the sole purpose of vacationing in Dubai. It was, however, successful in equipping me with the last few 1st world conveniences I needed to buy before heading back to Tanzania!

I arrived back in Dar three days before school started, which left me with some time to catch up a bit and prepare for the coming term. My arrival also signaled the beginning of my additional role as the new Team Leader for Grade Two. This leadership position is exciting, and the extra work load is forcing me to become a stronger teacher.

My arrival also brought with it some negative ‘welcome home’ presents. First, I was met with an infestation of flying termites in my bedroom. They are absolutely everywhere! One of my bedroom walls is occupied entirely by a built in wardrobe. The termites are feasting on the entire wardrobe as well as my wooden ceiling. The ceiling is an even greater problem because their bodies and wings are falling all over my room. I nightly pick off the dozen or so that have fallen through my mosquito net and onto my bed since my housekeeper left, then I do yet another sweep of the floor and dusting of the furniture to collect their little bodies-yuck! I will have to move everything out of my bedroom later this week when the construction men come to redo my entire bedroom ceiling and replace my built in wardrobe. The rest of my house also needs a new ceiling, but since the little pests aren’t showing themselves yet we will wait until I am away during summer break.

In the midst of this, my hot water heater died as well as my fridge, spoiling all of my meat and dairy. With tons of pent up frustration, I called my ever-amazing parents and had a minor breakdown. I’m since doing much better with a new refrigerator and water heater and a ceiling on the way. It’s times such as these that I can only smile and think of what great stories these will be in years to come.

I have taken pictures of my school and classroom but will wait to take pictures of my house until the bedroom work is completed. As soon as it is finished, I will make a video of my house and post it all at once so that you can finally see where I live. The following link will allow you to view my UAE pictures; I hope that you enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2533148&id=5132789&l=6fa953e7bf

It's Getting Warmer!

2009-11-14T17:17:00.000-05:00

It’s now officially summer here and it’s surely heating up. The humidity and temperature are rising as are the foul body odors from the locals! I’ve been here for about 4 months and last week I finally experienced my first meltdown. All of the cultural changes that I experience, some good and some not so good, finally got the best of me. I had a good cry and venting session with Mom & Dad on the phone and then slept it off. Although my circumstances haven’t changed, I feel as though I’ve dealt with my frustrations and can now better cope. I’ve finally begun to get my patience back. While beautiful and rewarding in MANY ways, life in a third world country also comes with difficulties. The lack of proper governmental systems and corruption therein cause problems at many levels. For instance, there is not an efficient trash management system, so it piles up everywhere. Locals burn it on the sides of the street, and I unfortunately deal with the strong smell of burning plastic wafting into my house all too often. I’m also about 1 block from the water. Sounds nice, right? In theory it would be, but the location next to my house is the exact dumping area for all of the untreated sewage. So, this means that any time we get a nice breeze coming in from the ocean, the smell of crap makes its way into my house. I can feel the brain cells being burned off my plastic fume inhalation and can taste literally taste shit (excuse my French)---oh the joys! Another frustration is that in the last two weeks I’ve gotten stuck in the shower when the water has gone out six times! This is just the tip of the iceberg, but I cannot allow myself to sit here and tell you too much all at once for two reasons: 1) I’ll get all anxious about it once again and 2) I don’t want to paint too grizzly a picture or you won’t even consider coming to visit me!!

It took about 12 weeks, but now I feel as though I’m settled in to teaching and am finally starting to enjoy it! A few weeks ago the school celebrated International Day. This is a day where each student represents the country of his mother and/or father and the place that is considered ‘home’. The entire school, dressed up in their national attire, separated into groups based on the represented countries and did a parade around campus, ending in the gym. Here a couple groups did presentations for the assembly. India put on a fashion show; Japan did a martial arts routine, etc. We had a UN representative who works in Tanzania come and speak to the kids about the global community too. Throughout the rest of the day the parents grouped themselves by continent and then had tables within that continent to spotlight their individual countries. Each table had food, an activity, pictures, etc. Classes were given time to go around and visit each continent and learning about the countries. There was a Chinese calligrapher doing the kids’ names on rice paper. The Netherlands had wooden shoes to try on, South Africa had a sand pit set up to go digging for diamonds. India did henna on students’ hands, Mexico had chips, salsa, and maracas, and the list goes on and on. What a great day this was—definitely my favorite so far! These parents went above and beyond in creating wonderful food and activities to represent their countries. I was amazed at how much work they put into it! The kids and I all had a fantastic time learning about the places their peers are from. I’ve certainly got a lot more ideas about where I’d like to vacation next! Because I celebrated the U.S.A. I borrowed an Obama dress from another teacher who had it made during the election. I’ve never had so many comments on an outfit before either! In the first link at the bottom I’ve included a few pictures from International Day. On a side note, I’ve also added some pictures from Halloween. Since a few friends and I just came back from Egypt, we decided to be Egyptian queens. The costumes were bought while we were in Cairo.

I’m sorry for not posting this blog and my Egypt pictures sooner; I’ve been trying to catch up since my return. A few weeks ago I spent a week traveling along the Nile. I loved Egypt more than I had even anticipated! The above map shows you what parts of the country we visited. A lot of ground was covered in 7 short days, and I learned so much history! I knew that I would love Egypt the moment that the plane began its decent into Cairo. Staring out the airplane window as I always do, I became mesmerized the topography of the land. The formation of the Sahara Desert caused by the wind made for breathtaking views. As my vision was transfixed on the seemingly endless amount of sand, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live my life as part of a nomadic tribe, many of whom still roam the desert today. Then I shifted my thought process to what it must have been like for the Israelites thousands of years ago, wandering around aimlessly and hopelessly lost in that same desert for 40 years. While fascinating from above, the thought of living in it terrified me! This moment of fearful imagination abruptly ended as I witness a complete and sudden change of terrain. There it was before me-the infamous River Nile. From its banks, stretching east and west about a mile in each direction was some of the most dense, lush vegetation that I have ever seen. Now I know what she meant when my middle school history teacher referred to this region as the ‘fertile Nile valley’ (Thanks Mrs. Norris; I know you’re reading this!). This green, flourishing land continued to amaze me during the entire week that we lived along its banks.

We commenced our first day of explorations by touring the Giza pyramids and Sphinx. It’s difficult to judge size in a photograph, but the pyramids were considerably larger than I had imagined! Our tour guide, a woman who possessed a four year degree in Egyptian history relating to tourism, was an abundant wealth of information, really making the past stories come alive. We also took a short 15-20 minute camel ride between the pyramids.

As you can see from my pictures, the air looks quite foggy. What you are seeing is actually pollution. Being known as one of the most polluted cities in the world, it was virtually impossible to get a good view of the cityscape from the pyramids, which are a bit higher than the rest of the metropolis. This even affected me physically; it burned my eyes and throat and clogged up my lungs! Otherwise though, I loved Cairo!

We spent the afternoon visiting the Egyptian Museum. A new museum, due to open in 2011, is currently under construction, and can’t be built soon enough, in my opinion! The existing museum houses over 150,000 artifacts but only has room for roughly half of that, so you can imagine how things are packed in! Hardly any of the relics were hidden behind plexiglass or another form of protection, let alone named or explained for the casual observer to understand there significance. We thankfully had the same guide we hired for the pyramids, because we wouldn’t have been able to survive without her. With her extensive expertise, I had one of the most enjoyable museums experiences of my life. It was incredible to be looking at pieces that are over 5,000 years old and understand the big picture rise and eventual fall of the Egyptian empire.

We spent the evening of this event-packed day at the Khan el Khalili, a lively and exotic souk that was established in the early 1300s in the heart of Islamic Cairo. This city-within-a-city has endless alleys to explore with an equally infinite array of products for sale: hookah, silver, jewels, spices, needlepoint, and pottery, fabrics, and most anything else under the sun. It is a place full of character, one where everyone wants your time, your attention, and your money. It’s a place where you can practice your haggling skills over a cup of the shopkeeper’s mint tea and leave with lifelong memories. The colorful artwork provides endless stimulation of sight, while your nose tingles with the scents of dozens of exotic spices, incense, and leather. The events of the day quickly caught up with me, however, and I was exhausted and trudged ‘home’ after just a few hours.

The next day we caught an early morning flight down to the city of Aswan. Here we visited the high dam, which, never being one to find water or hydroelectric power very fascinating, actually caught my interest. I won’t bore you with the details of it, but the huge benefits and drawbacks create quite an interesting story. The other piece of this dam’s historical significance is the part which the U.S. and Russia played in its coming to fruition. Again, I don’t want to loose half of my readers here, so I won’t go into the details, but if you’re interested I highly encourage you to Google the Aswan High Dam and read up on it!

In Aswan we took a boat to an island that is in the middle of the Nile to see the Temple of Philae. Constuction began in roughly 300 BC and additions were made to it for the next three centuries. For this reason, it’s quite an architectural wonder, with some aspects being of original Egyptian design as well as Greco-Roman influences, as seen through the columns. This temple was amazing, its hieroglyphics looking like they had been done a mere 100 years ago. Although it was made for Egyptian gods, the temple served as a safe haven and place of worship for Coptic Christians during the time of persecution and the Roman Empire. During their inhabitance, the Christians defaced a number of the characters in the hieroglyphics, drew crosses over some of it, and actually even created an alter for sacrifices. It intrigued me to experience such a culmination of cultures represented in one single temple.

The rest of the day was spent exploring Aswan’s other minor attractions. I escaped for some ‘me time’ in the evening and walked along the banks of the Nile at sunset, watching the feluccas (sailboats) drift lazily down the majestic river while the sun cast shimmering hues of gold and brown against the mountains of sand in the backdrop.

The next morning we rose with the sun and set out on a bus journey that would eventually deliver us to Luxor. On the way north, we stopped in the cities of Kom Ombo and Edfu to view the temples made for the Egyptian gods Sobek, Haroeris, and Horus. The astonishingly well-preserved hieroglyphics coupled with the symbolism and stories they told were enough to keep me as entranced as I am when in the middle of a suspense novel.

I enjoyed the journey from Aswan to Luxor as much, if not more, than I did the temples. Driving through all of the small towns along the way gave me a peek into daily like and culture that I would not have otherwise experienced. Many small villages were built into the sides of sandy hills. Donkeys replaced cars as a means of transporting both goods and people. While stopped at an intersection, I watched a father holding his young son on the back of a donkey, teaching him how to ride. I felt like an imposter, barging in on a sacred family memory in the making. The sandy backdrop made the doorways, painted vivid colors of blues and green, seem as if they were precious jewels. As we drove parallel to the river, I was rewarded with breathtaking views of the vegetation, thick and full of life. Crops of sugar cane and corn were in abundance as were palm trees and papyrus.

We stayed at a wonderful little hotel on Luxor’s West Bank. Its picturesque, Arabian architecture and décor soothed our weary traveling souls. They had a beautiful rooftop terrace restaurant which overlooked a garden in the foreground and, on the other side of the Nile, a sweeping view of Luxor Temple. Robin (a traveling companion) and I enjoyed a calm and relaxing Egyptian dinner as the sun set. Wow-what a life God has blessed me with that I can experience such things that many only dream of! I said a prayer of extra thanks that night. After dinner, Robin and I ventured to the East Bank and visited Luxor Temple after dark. The temple’s lighting against the starless night sky created a magical visit.

Early the next morning, a tour guide and driver picked Robin and I up from our hotel. Our first stop was the Valley of the Kings. Luxor, earlier as known Thebes, was the capital of ancient Egypt. The Valley of the Kings serves as the burial grounds for the kings and royal nobles during the Egyptian New Kingdom, including the recently discovered tomb of King Tutankhamun. This was an unbelievably wonderful ‘open air museum’ of sorts. There are 64 known tombs in the Valley of the Kings, each ranging from one – 120 room chambers! Only a select few of them are open at any one time though. Many are often closed for restoration or further excavation. While we were there I got to see archeologists at work, still uncovering artifacts! It was so interesting to see the tombs, each of them ornately decorated and painted with intricate detail and vibrant colors. The Valley of the Kings is in an ideal location, surrounded by mountains of sand on three sides, which helped to keep out many invaders. It is said that when discovered, many of the tombs were found nearly empty, already having been cleaned out by tomb raiders. Unfortunately, no cameras were aloud inside the area, so the only pictures I have were from the outside in the parking lot.

Our next stop was at the Temple of Hatchepsut. This place had a great history lesson attached to it, but I’ll spare those of you who aren’t really history buffs. Just check out the pictures. One interesting fact, however, is that a few hundred years ago the temple was nearly destroyed by an earthquake. The Polish have since come in and taken the rubble and what was left of the freestanding structure and rebuilt it. The old fragments of the temple have been pieced together with newer materials to give it a somewhat of a mosaic look to it up close. As you’ll see in the pictures, it does look relatively new.

The tour guide, Mohammad, suggested that we alter our plans slightly and stop at the Tombs of the Workers. At this place, he said, you can see the tombs of the artists and workers who made the tombs in the Valley of the Kings. Trusting our tour guide more than our tour book, we decided to ditch our initial plan and go with his suggestion. WOW-I am SO glad that we did! The artistry, painted hieroglyphics, were more stunning than I saw even in the Valley of the Kings (maybe they did a better job because it was their own tomb?!). The colors were so brilliant and bright that I would have thought they had been painted a few years ago. The preservation of them was top notch. These tombs were built in the mountain right next to the structural ruins that were once their homes. Our guide did an exemplary job explaining the cultural history of the life of a laborer. Mohammad also talked to a guard who, in exchange for a couple of dollars, allowed us to climb to the top of the worker’s temple that was currently being restored. Here we saw a wonderful landscape of the Nile Valley.

Our day ended with a tour of the extensive Karnak Temple, the largest ancient religious sight in the world. I was a exhausted from the desert heat and my head was spinning with all of the history lessons from earlier in the day, so I would love to come back and visit Karnak again, this time with a bit more excitement. Nonetheless, it was an amazing, vast structure with enough beauty and wonder to excite even those who aren’t a lover of history.

After another wonderful dinner at the rooftop restaurant of our hotel, we packed our suitcases and headed to the train station, where we took a first class sleeper car the 12 hour overnight journey back up north to Cairo. I have always loved taking overnight trains. Little soothes me like the constant movement of a train along its tracks. Exhausted from a busy day, I quickly fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

I spent the last two days exploring Cairo on foot. Half of the time was spent perusing the Khan el Khalili souk and the surrounding districts more, really getting to experience the life and culture of Egypt outside of the boundaries of tourist traps. The rest of the time was spent at the City Stars Mall, a seven-story shopper’s paradise. This was heaven on Earth for me. Bigger than the Mall of America, this was the largest mall in the world until recently when a larger one opened in Dubai. Having been in Africa for the last four months, it was wonderful to be a part of Western civilization again! Many of you will have a hard time believing this, but I really didn’t buy very much, just a few basic cotton shirts. I did, however, LOVE eating at chicken fajitas at Chilis and the salad bar at Ruby Tuesdays! Having filled my desire for modernism, I can now wait patiently another few months until I get to do it again in the states.

I know that this blog has been quite lengthy, and by now you’re probably wondering, “Is this trip ever going to end?”. Well, scroll down just a little more and you can see that I’m almost done-I promise! I wouldn’t, however, do a trip summary justice if I left out what I consider to be one of my most valuable learning experiences. The history was fascinating and the land was beautiful, but what arguably impacted me even more were the gender roles within an Islamic Middle Eastern country as viewed by me, a Western female traveler.

The separation of men and women is intensely obvious throughout the country, but it is more prominent outside of Cairo. In Aswan and Luxor the men and women were never seen together. They sat with their own gender at restaurants, rode with them in transport, and walked with them down the road. On one ferry ride a young man and woman sat very close to one another, and the woman affectionately had her hand on the mans shoulder. It was interesting to watch how many evil stares, whispers, head shaking, and finger pointing they received from the other Egyptians on the boat. The women seemed to vanish from view each night by the time the sun was setting. Tourists were left meandering down the roads while sheesha bars were full of men socializing and smoking hooka. Outside of Cairo it was predominantly men who were the shopkeepers, store clerks, and other jobs that interacted with people. In Cairo, however, we saw more interaction between men and women, especially at the mall where we even saw couples walking together.

I dressed conservatively by American standards, always wearing pants or long skirts, shirts with high neck lines and sleeves covering my shoulders, and often had a scarf around my neck. Still, my arms were bare and my head was not covered, causing me to feel more noticed than I do here in Dar. The Egyptian men could be annoyingly bothersome but gave no notion of harm. Like all children when seeing foreigners, it was cute to catch the kids’ stares, giggles, and whispers. Many women had a sense of curiosity that I had never before experienced. Through their stares, their eyes were filled with wonder and questions; I could see their thoughts going a thousand miles per hour-if only I could have known what those thoughts were! Women in Egypt seem to be more infatuated with the color of my hair than Tanzanians do. Quite a few times I had women come up to me and tell me how much they wish they had light colored hair. It’s always funny to me when this ‘grass is greener’ idea comes up with hair color because I am infatuated with their dark hair and eyes!

Ok, I think I need to just stop typing. I could keep going on about Egypt, but I don’t want to loose my audience! Thank you all for being so patient; I hope you enjoyed hearing about it. I HIGHLY encourage you to go to Egypt if you ever get the chance! Until next time…

HERE ARE PICTURES!

This first link is to see pictures from International Day and Halloween added to my Dar album.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2462010&id=5132789&l=529aedeff9

The next link features Egypt pictures.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2501069&id=5132789&l=c073aab1a1

Zanzibar Holiday

2009-10-11T16:19:00.007-04:00

*Hey all! Sorry about the last false e-mail posting alert. I don't know what happened! Please also forgive me for the following blog. I haven't proofed it at all; I'm running late for a flight and just want to get this posted before I leave. I've been wanting to share some day to day details with you but haven't the time now; I'll do it soon--promise! Anyway, here is a brief recap of my last trip.

Three weeks ago my friend and I spent a long weekend in Zanzibar, a Tanzanian island off the Northeastern coast of Dar. We hopped on a ferry Saturday morning and arrived in Zanzibar 2 hours later. Even though it was our first visit to the island, Robin & I decided not to go to the tourist areas of the island, but instead to head to a small fishing village we'd heard about. There is no concrete or even dirt or grass in the entire village. Everything is built on pure white beach sand. We stayed at 'Mustapha's Place', a laid back rastafarian place where Bob Marley cds were on repeat all weekend long. As with the rest of the city, all floors, including our bungalows was sand. It had some lush foilage but overall was kind of like camping: everyone shared a toilet and shower and you had to exert energy to stay there. This was not a come and be taken care of kind of place! Because it was nearing the end of Ramadan, the Islamic holy month of fasting, the owners were out of town visiting family and they had a friend running the place. Robin, myself, and 4 Europeans who arrived on the truck with us that morning were its only guests. The young guy running it had all of his friends hanging out the whole time and made it party central.

During Ramadan all schedules are thrown out the window and nothing can ever be assumed. Thus was the case of our stay at Mustapha's Place. The best word I have for our weekend is RANDOM. Thank God we thought to a bag of snacks, otherwis I think we would have starved. The only restaurant in the small village was the one where we were staying. And as our luck would have it, the chef was out of town. Everything that Omar, the man in charge, knew how to cook he could count on one hand, so we ate plenty of rice and fish. *Those of you who know me well know I don't eat anything that comes from the water, so I ate plenty of rice! =)

One morning a man drove us to a nearby forest to see the red colobus monkeys, a member of the critically endangered species list that is found primarily in this forest in Zanzibar. With the help of a park guide, we came upon an entire troop of them. Thankfully, it was morning and they were actively eating and playing. We were able to get within feet of them. I sat and watched them jump amongst the trees, wrestling on the ground and eating, for nearly an hour! After leaving the forest, we stopped by a conservation area that creates a protective environment for tortoises that would otherwise be hunted.

After we arrived back at our 'barracks' as I jovially refered to them, I asked Omar if he knew of anyone who could take us out snorkeling. Because it was Eid, a national holiday celebrating the breaking of the fast and official end of Ramadan, tour companies were all closed. Omar said, however, that he had a fisherman friend who would be willing to take us out in his dhow boat (traditional wooden sail boat). When we walked down to the beach the tide was out. Now, you must understand, Zanzibar low tide is unlike anything I've ever seen before. The water goes WAY out! In order to get to the fisherman who was in his boat, we had to walk out about 500 meters in water calf deep. Once we got to two dhow boats we realized that the men had just gotten done fishing; the bottom of the boat was filled with octopus! In order to make room for us to crawl in, the fisherman had to move the octopus from our dhow to the other one. Instead of walking them through the water he began lobbing them through the air, he began lobbing them through the air to the fisherman in the other dhow. I was laughing so hard that I unfortunately could not pull my camera out in time. While the snorkeling itself was fun, I will always first remember the flying ocotpus.

Later that evening we had a great dinner with Omar and his friends. We had a wonderful feast of grilled fish, rice, and tomato/cucumber salad. All of this was served family style and eaten Zanzibar style, with our hands! It was a nice time of conversation, learning about the culture of these island Tanzanians. During one conversation, Omar was discussing how while most people in Zanzibar are Muslim, not all are devout and follow it rigidly. I loved the way he explained where he is on this spectrum. He said, "Me, I am like half (making a verticle line down the middle of his body). I am half Muslim and I am half Catholic." "Catholic?" I asked, wondering how this could work. Were his parents 2 different religions? "Yes" he replied. "I am Muslim because I believe in Allah and the Koran and its teachings. I am Catholic because I do not do the daily call to prayer and do not go to the mosque every day. I also drink, smoke, and do things like that." At this, I couldn' help but laugh a bit, if only inside. I love his reasoning for being half Catholic. I guess that the polar opposite of being a devout Muslim is being a partying Catholic-lol!

The next morning we hopped into a dala dala (the back of a pickup truck that serves as the public transporation) for our one hour journey back to Stone Town, the historical neighborhood in the capital of the island. After just five minutes into our journey we stopped at another small village and 2 older foreigners got on. The lady sat directly across from me with our knees bumping against each other in the overly crowded truck. As soon as she sat down and I looked at her I recognized her. The funny thing was, I didn't know how I knew her. She looked to be in her 70s and spoke a European language to her traveling companion and a bit of Swahilli to another woman there. All of this told me that this was not a woman I know, yet her eyes captured me. I'd seen her before. Maybe she reminded me strongly of someone else I knew? But who? It drove me crazy trying to figure it out the entire ride back. I thought of talking to her but knew that I really didn't know her. How then did she seem so familiar? This question continued to bug me for the rest of the day and into the next day. All of the sudden, the next evening I figured it out! I did a quick google image search to confirm and I was right: it was Jane Goodall, the chimp lady! I knew I recognized her! She has aged significantly since I studied her as a child and read all about her in various National Geographics and such, but her eyes hadn't changed a bit. Neither had her smile. Then it made sense why she was looking at me the way she had been in the dala dala. I was very obviously staring at her the entire ride and kept smiling back at me with this mysterious smile. She knew I was trying to place her and must have been amused, wondering if I'd figure it out! All of the work she has done with the chimps is at a park here in the western part of Tanzania. I later learned that she actually has a house in Dar and also years ago used to visit my school a few times a year to talk to the kids. It was exciting, but I'm still kicking myself for not opening up my mouth in the dala dala!

Anyways, we spent the last day exploring Stone Town, whose history is quite exciting. For hundreds of years, before the colonization of the Eastern African mainland, it was the main port from which they sent resources to Asia and the Middle East. This was the home of the slave trade, where slaves were brought from the mainland and sold at market. A church in Stone Town now stands on the exact spot of the market. The old cells are still able to be visited. This city was also the homebase for African explorers, including David Livingston. The Germany ended up colonizing Stone Town, as is evident in a very Germanic architectural influence. After WWII the Germany had to give Zanzibar to the British, who then occupied it until the 1960s when it wa merged with Tanzania and gained its status as an independent country.

Because we were visiting Stone Town on Eid, which is the national holiday signaling the end of the month of Ramadan (Zanzibar is 99% Muslim), the town was packed full of islanders who came to the city to celebrate. For this reason, we didn't do as much exploring as we had wanted. Oh well, there's always next time! That afternoon we headed to the airport and jumped in small plane to the the 15 minute ride back home to Dar. It was definitely a random yet memorable trip.

Oh well, I've got to run. I'm off to Egypt for a week to vacation and my cab will be here in 15 minutes. I've got to get ready! I'll talk to you again and will have many more stories!

Here is a link to check out some pictures I took while in Zanzibar. Enjoy! http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2487129&id=5132789&l=e3e66aa6f4

Settling In

2009-09-14T14:42:00.008-04:00

Habari! It has been a while since I've posted an update; so many things occur in the first few months of living in a new place! I'll attempt to get you caught up on the shortened version of what's going on in my life in Dar.

I'm actually in the middle of experiencing the worst part of living abroad. Earlier this week my Uncle Frankie passed away after a tough battle with cancer. I knew when I left that it would probably be the last time I would see him, but that prior knowledge and preparation doesn't make it any easier to be away. I miss my family more now than I have since I have arrived; it's tough to be so far away when I want to be comforting those I love. Please pray for my entire family as we grieve our loss.

Having said that, one thing that helps me take my mind off home is the pile of work I have to do at school. I can't believe that I'm already in week 6 of teaching. The year has started out with a few bumps along the road in the way of lack of time to prepare before school started and the limited availability of resources for classroom use. My job has been incredibly time-consuming and often a bit frustrating as I get situated in the international school environment, but I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel and know that it will get a bit easier soon. I do, however, have a wonderful class. There are 23 students representing over 13 countries around the world. I am 1 of only 2 people in my entire class who is not fluent in at least 2 languages; many of these students know 3-5! The diversity in my classroom is a tremendous asset to all of the students, and I'm enjoying learning from each of them as well.

Life outside of school is great. A few weekends ago I walked for about an hour through downtown to get to Kariakoo, the biggest market in Dar. It is the epitome of an African market, the heartbeat and pulse of Tanzanian city living, selling anything and everything imaginable. Within a few city blocks I saw more people in one place than I've ever seen before. It is said that on a busy Saturday afternoon (I went Saturday at 1:00!) there are upwards of 500,000 people shuffling about the asphalt roads, pushing and shoving for a spot to view goods sold in the stalls. This gathering represents the most diverse group of tribal populations in one place throughout all of Tanzania. I, however, was the only white person (mzunga) around, and for this I received quite a bit of attention.

As I was pushed through the streets by a sea of people, I inhaled the tangy smell of freshly cut pineapple before the foul scent of decaying trash and formidable body odor hit me like a heat wave when leaving a cool building and walking outside during a Florida summer. I quickly elbowed my way through the stench until I was able to take a deep breath and instead of gaging, only got a high off the diesel and greasy oil fumes that surrounded me. As cars and heavy carts attempted to plow their way through the masses, I realized that I was nothing but in the way. It was time to step aside and take it all in: the rich redness of fresh tomatoes, bright colors and patterns of African fabrics, natives haggling over item prices, and street vendors attempting to out-scream each other, vying for the attention of passers-by. Oh, the organized chaos, the adrenaline that is Kariakoo!

After my legs were literally knocked out from under me by a car that was slowly working its way through the crowds and having to crawl to safety (no joke!), I realized that I'd seen enough of the market for one day. Alas, because of the heavy amount of petty crime in the area, I didn't dare bring my camera. The market pictures you will see in the album with the link below were pulled straight from a google image search. They are, however, what I deem to be the most like what I saw during my visit.

A visit to area beaches must quickly follow thrilling yet exhausting adventures like Kariakoo. Some beach photos are included in the photo album. I've been going to the beach for at least a few hours most weekends. The idyllic, serene local beaches are all that I have experienced thus far, and I hear that the beach quality only gets better as I get out of the city. It is a wonderful way for me to escape with just one or two other people and re-energize my mind, body, and spirit.

I will have a wonderful opportunity this weekend to take a 3-4 day vacation to the island of Zanzibar, which is just off the eastern coast of Tanzania. Monday and Tuesday are public holidays celebrating Eid ul-Fitr, which marks the end of Ramadan, the Islamic holy month of fasting. A fellow teacher and myself will be going to the island and spending a few days at the beach and possibly a day visiting a nearby rainforest; those pictures will hopefully be posted soon!

Last month I attended the annual Dar es Salaam Goat Races. This event is a huge gathering of the ex-patriots who come together to raise money for local charities. It's such a spectacle that I don't even know where to begin! Think Kentucky Derby. Now, think goats instead of horses. Entire tacky costumes instead of simply big, fancy hats. Beer instead of champagne. Dirt and dust instead of box seats, bleachers, concrete, and grass. Now hopefully you're starting to get a better picture of the goat races. Teams of people go in together to "own" (sponsor) a goat for the race. The team gets to name the goat and write a blurb about it for the program. The audience places bets on the goats for each of the 5 races. When it's race time, everyone gathers around the track to watch the stubborn, uninterested goats get pushed and prodded into running by men following from behind. Meanwhile, the rest of the grounds are filled with fair types of activities such as kiddie game areas, food tents, and craft tables. It was an interesting experience that I'm glad I was able to participate in and a great way to raise thousands of dollars for local charities. Pictures are included in the album.

On another note, I've been searching for a local church to attend but haven't found anything yet. I just heard of a few that other teachers attend and enjoy, so I'll be trying them over the next few weeks. I have, however, been enjoying listening to podcasts from my churches in Venice and Orlando and have enjoyed connecting with some fellow Christian teachers here at IST.

I have finally gotten unpacked and settled into my apartment quite nicely. A few weeks ago I had the walls painted, which makes it look a bit more comfy. Although it's not very big and is not as nice as an apartment in the states would be, it suits me fine and I am continuing to try my best to make it home. Over the next few weeks I'll be shopping to buy a few paintings and things to decorate the walls. I'll take some photos or video to post after I've got at least a few pictures up.

One big living adjustment is not having an entirely air-conditioned apartment. This is a huge change for a Florida girl who is addicted to AC! I do have a wall unit in my bedroom, but it cannot cool the whole house as some of my window openings elsewhere in the house have only screen and no glass. Thank goodness the weather is still nice enough to be comfortable with the windows open; it'll be much more difficult when it becomes summer. Also, most of the roads here are dust/sand. This makes cleanliness in the house a constant battle. I've never seen so much dust, dirt, and grime in all of my life. I have tile floors and they are swept every day and mopped three times a week! A benefit to living in a country where labor is so inexpensive is that I have the luxury of having a housekeeper who works for me every day so that I don't have to do spend time doing these daily household tasks. This is such a treat, too; I think I'm becoming quite spoiled. It will be difficult to go back to the states and have to do my own dishes, laundry, etc! =)

Life here is constantly changing and often challenging as I continue to grow accustomed to the cultural differences. Some moments I love it and others leave me wishing to be out of here and in the comfort of the states. This place stretches me, forcing me to become more resourceful, making me question my viewpoints on a range of issues, and compelling me to rely on God more than I ever have in my life. I truly am glad that I am here and know that the lessons I am learning and experiences in which I partaking will benefit me for the rest of my life. Thank you all so much for your continued thoughts, prayers, and comments. I love to hear from everyone back home as it keeps me feeling a bit more attached to all of you who are so far away.

Click the link to check out my photo album; some of them have captions at the bottom. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2462010&id=5132789&l=529aedeff9

Safari Photos

2009-08-13T13:56:00.001-04:00

Here is a link to check out some pictures from the safari I went on when I first arrived in Tanzania. They were taken at Mikumi National Park, which is about 4 hours west of my home in Dar. Enjoy! http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2457317&id=5132789&l=9c8ef25e00

And So It Begins

2009-08-05T13:52:00.000-04:00

Habari zenu! I can’t believe that I’ve only been here a little over a week. There is so much change thrown at me that it’s quite hard to process it all. I encountered a bit of travel delays getting here, but I finally arrived last Monday. God answered my prayers in a huge way in that a day before I left, the airline gave me permission to being all boxes of my household goods with me on the plane. They arrived safely with my flight and since I didn’t ship them via sea, they didn’t have to go through the port and customs clearance. I want to publicly thank my mom and grandpa for driving all of my boxes up to Washington D.C., which saved me an additional $3,000.00. There willingness to help me in such a huge way makes me ever so thankful to God for the people He has put in my life.

Once I arrived, I spent the first week going through new teacher orientation, which included getting me oriented with the city of Dar, shopping and settling in, and introducing me to the school campus, policies and procedures, etc. This week I’m doing my teacher planning as school starts on Monday. I’ve got quite a bit to do and not very much time in which to do it, but I know that it will come together.

I live in one of the six apartment complexes that the school owns. It is literally a two minute walk from my doorstep to my classroom, so the commute is amazing! Mixed in with the entire school campus and apartments is an amazing amount of landscaping. I’ve got beautiful trees outside my 3rd story windows, which provide wonderful shade all throughout the day.

The weather is beautiful as it is winter now. The highs are in the mid-upper 80s and I would compare it to Venice in April where it is warm but the humidity is not torturous.

I haven’t seen too much of the city since I’ve arrived as I’ve been busy getting settled and school planning. Dar es Salaam is a big city of 3.3 million people and is the 3rd fastest growing city in Africa. Despite its growth, it only has the offerings of a small town as it cannot keep up with the sudden population explosion. For this reason, there is much overcrowding and shanty conditions in most areas of the city. The area in which I reside though is a bit nicer as it is in the ex-patriot community. There are grocery stores somewhat similar to those at home (although not as wide an array of goods) and other stores aimed at the upper class ex-pats. There is most definitely a high cost in exchange for these Western conveniences; I recently paid $46.00 for an ironing board and $7.50 for 10 hangers! I’ve splurged and bought these crazy expensive items to help me settle in, but from here on out I plan to seek out street vendors to purchase goods and haggle my way to a fair price though they still end up getting a much high price from the blond white girl!

The one exceptionally positive thing here is that the staff members are incredible. Everyone is so welcoming and helpful, going above and beyond to help me be comfortable. I have met a few people with whom I plan to start church hunting this weekend. I've heard that there are quite a few protestant churches to choose from.

Last weekend my principal took all of the new teachers, roughly 40 of us four hours away, to Mikumi National Park for a safari. It was a beautiful trip and we saw plenty of great animals. My internet goes nearly at dial-up speed when it works at all, so I am currently unable to post my pictures to the web. I will upload them when I can get to another wi-fi area and plan to include them in the next post.

Well, I’m off to continue my lesson plans. I’ll post another update after school has begun. Thank you all for your continued prayers and interest in this new chapter of my life.

Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me That Moving Is Such A Pain?!

2009-07-14T00:42:00.000-04:00

Well, I am mentally ready to get on a plane and leave for Dar any time. Logistically however, things are a bit of an unnerving mess. Here is the simplified version of where I am in the process. In order to live and work in Tanzania, I must have residency paperwork and a permanent work visa. The government takes quite a long time (usually around 2-3 months) to get these papers issued. In order to start the process, I had to submit my UCF diploma and State of Florida Teaching Certificate, among other things. Long story short, I graduated the second week in May and I worked with UCF to have my transcripts and diplomas made available to me three weeks later. I then had to get my teaching certificate, which I had rushed as much as possible, and it just finally arrived at my home on Friday. I've sent it to Tanzania via DHL and will only now start the 2-3 month process to get my official papers.

Now, this may not seem like such a huge mess; I can just get a temporary visa and I'll be fine. Well, yes and no. Yes, they'll let me in the country and I can work until the papers come through. The problem lies in getting all of my things into the country. The only way to send my things is via cargo ship. My things can't be sent until the beginning of next week (I leave next Friday), and they take approximately 35-40 days to arrive. So, I'll already be there over a month without my boxes. It gets worse when you add in the fact that it's virtually impossible for the government to let all of my items clear customs before I have my finalized official papers; unfortunately the temporary ones will not suffice. So, if it takes 2-3 months go get my papers I don't think I'll be getting my stuff any time soon.

As some of you know, Tanzania is quite third world to say the least and things are not available there like they are here in the states. I'm having to bring over not only all of my household goods, but also a year's supply of everything that I need--toiletries, etc. The knowledge that I'll have for the first few months I'm living in another country is whatever I can fit into my airplane suitcase is stressing me out quite a bit to say the least!

I ask that as you read this and think of me over the next few weeks, you pray that my paperwork goes through with abnormal speed and I can get my belongings quickly and without any hassle. It will make adjusting to a new place so much easier!

Preparing for the Big Move

2009-06-17T01:47:00.000-04:00

Okay, the time is quickly approaching; I'll be moving to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania on July 24th to teach 2nd grade at the International School of Tanganyika. As I create this blog and think about all of the adventures and misadventures that lie ahead, I'm filled with a nervous excitement and fear of the unknown that puts a small knot in my stomach. I look forward to using this blog as a way to stay connected with each of you, to share my experiences and be reminded of the amazing friends and family I have at home. I plan to blog as much as possible and hope that you will keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I embark on the most scary undertaking of my life thus far!